“Then tell me.” I was surprised by how steady my voice sounded when my heart was hammering against my ribs.
Connor studied me for a long moment, his eyes searching mine. Whatever he was looking for, I hoped he found it. I’d never felt so exposed, so vulnerable. My usual tricks and games felt meaningless under his scrutiny.
“No games,” he finally said. “That’s what I want.”
“I’m not playing any?—”
“Yes, you are.” He cut me off, his voice hardening. “You’re playing the same game you always play. Teasing, flirting, acting like you’re offering something when really, you’re just getting off on the chase.”
His words hit like a slap. I opened my mouth to argue but found I had nothing to say. He wasn’t wrong.
“I’m not interested in being your forbidden thrill, Ryder.” He took a step closer, and I felt the heat radiating from his body. “I’m not going to chase you. I’m not going to beg. And I’m sure as hell not going to risk going back to prison just so you can get your rocks off.”
I licked my lips, my mouth suddenly dry. “What if I begged you?”
Something shifted in his expression—surprise, maybe, or interest. I’d never begged for anything in my life. The very thought should have been humiliating, but standing there in the moonlight with Connor looking at me like that, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.
“What if I stopped playing games?” I continued, my voice dropping lower. “What if I told you exactly what I wanted, no teasing, no bullshit?”
“And what is it you want?” he asked, his voice a rough whisper.
I stepped closer, close enough that I had to tilt my head back to look into his eyes. “You. I don’t know why either. I… I can’t explain it.”
For a heartbeat, I thought he might kiss me. His gaze dropped to my lips, and I felt myself swaying toward him, drawn by some invisible force I couldn’t resist. But then he stepped back, putting distance between us.
“You don’t even know me,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re attracted to the idea of me—to the idea of something forbidden. But the only thing you’re doing is acting up, rebelling against your old man when he can’t see it.” He gave me a once over. “It’s pathetic.”
“Pathetic?” I scoffed, anger rising in my throat. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
He stared at me, his expression unchanging.
“Do you have any idea what it’s like to grow up with a father that calls people like me a fag every day? Or that fact that he can’t look me in the eye because I look too much like my dead mom?” I felt the tears coming to my eyes, hot and furious. Why was I telling him all of this? Where was it coming from? “Or the fact that I know he blames me for her death? I killed her just by being born…”
There was a long pause, nothing but crickets filling the night air as I stared at the ground. My chest was heaving, my heart was racing, and the tears wouldn’t stop. I was so pissed at Connor, pissed atmyselffor letting all that slip out of me.
But then I felt a strong hand grab my chin softly, lifting my gaze back up where Connor stood bathed in moonlight.
“Finally. Some truth,” he said, a softness in his voice I hadn’t heard before. “And for the record, no. I wouldn’t know what it’s like to live your life. But I’m not sure filling the hole in your heart with randomdickis going to help you.” He paused, turning my head side to side and really taking me in for the first time. “You like these games because they make you feel like you’re in control.”
I scoffed. “It’s theonlytime I get to be in control.”
“Another truth,” Connor nodded. “Good boy.”
Those words cut through my emotions and filled my body with a pleasant tingle. How the fuck did he do that? I swallowed hard, my throat tight with something between desire and shame. The way he said “good boy” made my knees weak, and I hated myself for it. I hated how much power those two simple words had over me when spoken in his deep voice.
“I’m not trying to be good,” I muttered, but the protest sounded weak even to my own ears.
Connor’s hand stayed on my chin, keeping me looking at him. His eyes were dark pools in the moonlight, impossible to read but impossible to look away from.
“That’s the problem,” he said quietly. “You’re so busy trying to be bad that you can’t see what you really want.”
“And what’s that?” I challenged, though my voice trembled slightly.
His thumb brushed across my lower lip, so gently it might have been an accident. “To submit.”
The word hit me like a physical blow. I’d never thought of it that way before, never put a name to the hunger that drove me to seek out the roughest men, to push them until they pushed back harder. But hearing Connor say it out loud made something click into place inside me.
“I don’t—” I started to argue, but he pressed his thumb against my lips, silencing me.
