A half-smirk lifts one corner of her mouth. “He has a name, you know,” she says.
“Not to me, he doesn’t.” I grab her leg and hitch it up high around my waist. My hips circle back again. The pressure pushes deeper and she hums in pleasure.
“That’s a different tune than what you were singing earlier, old man.”
“Yeah.” I kiss her. “But now I’ve got the girl.”
She chuckles, eyes on me—sheseesme. “You’ve always had the girl.” The words land easy and warm like she hasn’t only forgiven me, but that she’s forgotten my transgressions entirely.
Her smile parts the clouds, sun crashing in until there’s not a shadow in sight. Even if it’s hard for me to believe those words, I know one thing for sure: I’m never letting her go.
Chapter Thirty-Three
A GENTLEMAN WOULD ASK FIRST
Gretchen
He’s always had me.
Despite the hurt, I could never let him go. Not entirely, at least. I missed him too damn much. Certain people I’ve long since tossed into my rearview would say that makes me weak. Yet, I don’t regret that thread of hope I’ve carried with me all this time, that hope that he would come back to me.
He hurt me and that pain was real, but I know he didn’t do it intentionally. The choices he made then were rooted in his loyalty to my brother and loyalty to a friend is noble, even if it clouds your capacity to think clearly sometimes.
A world without forgiveness is a world full of bitter people with resentment in their hearts and I don’t want any part in that.
I choose him because I trust him. Heart, soul, mind and body—I trust him with all of my pieces.
Only him.
Like a master musician, he plays my body like an instrument.His hands, mouth, and the rock of his hips pluck and tune every taught string of pleasure coursing through me.
He links our hands above my head, an anchor that saysI’ve got you. When he shifts his weight, his hips lift, the pressure between my thighs now gone. I crave for it to return.
“Connor, please don’t stop,” I pant.
“I need to do this right. I don’t want to rush this. I wanna take you on a proper date. I want you to be my girlfriend. I should do those things first, but right now I just wanna make you come.”
“A gentleman would ask first,” I tease, lips against his ear. He pulls back, a challenge in his eyes. “Politely,” I add.
He gives me a wry smile. “Gretchen Fisher,” his mouth hovers above mine, “will you, pretty please,”kiss, “with a cherry on top,”kiss,“go on a date with me?”kiss.
I think I say yes, but his lips crash down on mine too hard and too fast to be sure. A blissful, erotic haze clouds my senses as his finger runs delicate circles around my nipples through my swim top.
“Gretch,” he whispers, “will you,”lazy circle,“be my,”flick, “girlfriend?”pinch.
I arch into his touch, my voice aching when I cry, “Yes.” The curve of his smile ghosts along my neck.
His hand glides down until it rests just above where my body lay burning with desire, swollen, aching for him. I’m on fire, my nerves buzzing, electrified by the feel of his hands and lips on my skin.
“Fish.” His voice rumbles, the vibrations sending shivers across my skin. His hand lowers to cup me between my legs, but he doesn’t apply any pressure. My toes curl. My feet scrape against the comforter, hips falling open in anticipation. “Do you want me to make you come?” Sudden and firm, the heel of his hand presses into me, exactly where I want it to.
I moan. “Please!”
He shifts, bringing his hand to the waistband of my swim bottoms. “Gretch, look at me.” I blink my eyes open to find his right above mine, soft but ravenous. “Ask me what I’m thinking?”
Breathless, I oblige. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking of all the ways I’ve imagined being with you, noneof them compare to the real thing. I want it all. The sweet and slow and,God, I wanna break some damn headboards with you too.” I swallow deeply. “All of it.”
