I look around the living room. There are two brown suede couches, a cream and brown Aubusson rug, and a brown leather wingback chair by the fireplace. There’s a small table beside it and there’s a book set upside down on it. Family photos line the mantel above the fireplace and over the piano.
“Do you play?” I ask, nodding at the piano.
Connor is watching me carefully as I examine his house.
“No, it was my mother’s.”
“What about your brothers? Do they play?”
He shakes his head.
Connor hasn’t turned on any of the big lights. The only light in the room is from the fireplace and the floor lamps he turned on.
I take another sip of my drink and set the glass on the mantel. Outside the window, snow continues to fall. I can’t see anything beyond the few feet illuminated by the house lights. It’s almost like there’s no one else in the world except Connor and me.
In the reflection of the window, I see him step up behind me and brush my hair over my shoulder. Bending forward, he places a searing kiss on my neck. I tilt my head to the side to give him easier access.
“Connor,” I whisper.
I turn to face him, slipping my arms around his waist. His lips meet mine in a lush, wet kiss that I feel all the way to my toes.
“I’ve been dying to taste you,” Connor murmurs. “Five hundred and thirty-six days, baby girl. Every day has felt like a new hell.”
I stare up at him. “You’ve counted the days we’ve been apart?”
Connor caresses my cheek, tucking a piece of my hair behind my ear. “Like I said, every day away from you has felt like hell. One that I brought on myself, I know. But that hasn’t made it easy. The only thing which made it easy was knowing you weren’t going through it with me.”
What? He thinks I’ve been happy without him? Five hundred and thirty-six days have been easy? I want to argue, but he’s kissing my neck again and I’m distracted by my need for him. I close my eyes, letting my body grow lax.
Reaching between us, Connor tugs at his shirt I’m still wearing and pulls it over my head.
“Do you want me to stop?” His eyes bounce between both of mine.
I step away from him, back towards the warmth of the fire. Slowly, I unbutton my jeans and shimmy them off with my back still to Connor, letting him see my high-cut lace thong. He makes a sound that sounds suspiciously like a whimper. Turning, I kick my jeans over to him.
I cock a hip, slowly reaching up to pull my hair up into a bun, letting Connor’s heated gaze trail across my body.
“Do you want me, Connor?” I ask, my voice breathy. I’m not putting it on like I was at the bar. This is just the Connor effect.
“More than my next breath,” he says, voice roughened with desire.
“Then you’ll have to get on your knees and beg for a taste.”
Without a second thought, Connor drops to his knees and crawls to me. Oh, fuck. The image of him crawling towards me will be forever burned in my mind. There’s something so heady about having a man get on his knees for you. It’s the ultimate power trip.
“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he says, when he’s kneeling in front of me.
He’s looking up at me like I’m the thing he worships. Like I’ll be the reason for his salvation. Bending forward, I thrust my hand into his hair, pulling his head back to give him one, hard kiss. I straighten before he can deepen the kiss and turn around.
“Can you unhook me, please?”
I’m drawing out the inevitable and the tension between us is thickening with each passing second. My pussy is throbbing with need, aching to be filled. I can’t stop the sound which leaves my mouth when Connor’s hands meet my heated body. They’re rough and calloused as he molds them over my ass and presses a kiss against the curve of one. I shudder.
With deft fingers, he unhooks my corset, placing soft kisses along each inch of exposed skin. I let the corset fall forward and slip it off, throwing it away. I turn slowly. This time, I’m sure Connor whimpers, biting his fist. The cold air of the room causes my nipples to pebble, but the heat of the fire is nice. As is the heat in Connor’s eyes.
“You’re a goddess of sex and beauty sent to torture me, baby girl,” he says. He’s still fully dressed and I don’t think he even realizes it. There could be a fire here and he wouldn’t realize.
“I haven’t even started with the torture yet,” I tease.
