Because if falling feels like this—like her—then maybe I never want to stop.
27
MANUELA
The house issilent when we slip inside, our steps hushed even though we don’t need to be. Everyone’s still up there on the mountain, and it feels like we might be the only two people remaining in Switzerland by the sounds of it.
Here, in this moment, it’s just us.
I can still feel the gondola swaying under my feet, the kiss pressed hard against my lips. My heart hasn’t slowed since.
Connor glances around the empty living room like he doesn’t trust the quiet. Then his grin cracks wide, all dimples and trouble. “We’ve got the whole place to ourselves.”
I roll my eyes, but it comes out shaky. “Are you saying I should be worried?”
“Exactly.” He steps closer, heat radiating off him. “You should be very worried.”
Long gone is that man that looked terrified up in the mountain, and in his place is a cocky, confident one who drags his eyes from top to bottom, then stops at my lips before bringing his gaze to my eyes. I laugh, but it’s cut off when his mouth finds mine.
It’s nothing like the quick stolen kiss in the ice tunnel or the frantic one in the gondola. This is open and pressed-up-against-the-wall hungry, his hands sliding over my hips like he can’t get enough.
My cardigan slides off one shoulder, half falling to the floor before I shove it the rest of the way. He breaks away long enough to glance down at the heap of fabric, smirking. “Finally.”
I swat at his chest, breathless. “Shut up.”
But he’s already tugging me toward the stairs, kisses stuttering against my jaw, my throat, both of us laughing as we stumble dangerously up the steps. We bump into a door, then another, until he shoulders one open?—
And I freeze. I mean, this house is ridiculous, but I was not ready for this level.
The bathroom is huge, probably double the size of the one in my room, warm tile glowing in the late afternoon light, and right in the center is a standalone tub big enough to fit four people. Beyond it, a picture window looks straight out over the lake glittering silver blue in the sun.
Connor glances back at me, smug. “Not bad, huh?”
“You knew this was here?” I demand, still staring. My brain is not computing how over-the-top this whole trip has been.
He smirks. “Of course I knew. It’s my bathroom.”
I shake my head, laughing as he pulls me inside. “You’re annoying.”
“Correct.” He flashes me a grin, then tugs me forward. Clothes fall in a messy trail across the tile, laughter spilling between kisses. I shove at his jeans when they stick at this angle; he groans dramatically about my “patience issues.”
Connor reaches back blindly and fumbles with the chrome tap until water gushes out, hot and loud against porcelain. Steam curls instantly into the air, fogging the glass as the lake outside blurs into smears of light.
“Multitasking,” I tease, tugging at his underwear until it’s gone.
“Try not to break my neck on the tile while you strip me,” he shoots back, voice muffled against my mouth.
I laugh into the kiss, the sound swallowed when he presses harder, hungrier, until we’re both half-undressed and the tub is nearly full. He twists the tap off without looking, then scoops me up like it’s nothing.
“Connor…” I squeak, clinging to his shoulders as he lowers us into the water with a huge grin on his face. “You’re going to flood the bathroom!”
“I don’t give a shit,” he mutters. The water is hot enough to sting before it soothes, a rush that makes me gasp. It rushes over my skin as he settles between my legs, the length of him pressing against me under the surface. His jaw drips, hair plastered to his forehead, eyes locked on mine like he’s starving.
“This feels illegal,” I whisper, staring past his shoulder at the massive window and the lake and mountains glittering beyond. His hand slides down, fingers teasing me under the surface, the heat of the water nothing compared to the way my body burns from the inside.
“Connor.” My voice breaks.
“I’ve got you,” he whispers, lips brushing the corner of my mouth. His free hand braces at my hip, steadying me as I arch into him. “Always.”
