“It is,” I nodded. “He deserves it. Both he and Jesse have been through enough. They both lost their mom’s at a young age.” My gaze dropped to the ground. “Something we have in common.”
Connor’s expression shifted, something gentle crossing his features. I hadn’t meant to bring up my mom, but it slipped out naturally. His hand moved toward mine but stopped just short of touching.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low and private. “About your mom.”
“It was a long time ago,” I shrugged, trying to sound casual even as my chest tightened. “I was only a few days old when she died. Don’t even remember her.”
“Doesn’t make it any easier,” Connor replied, and I could tell from the shadow in his eyes that he understood loss in a way most people didn’t.
Before I could respond, the band started playing, a slow melody filling the air. Couples moved toward the makeshift dance floor, arms wrapping around each other with easy intimacy.
“Want something to drink?” Connor asked, nodding toward the bar.
“God, yes,” I said, grateful for the change of subject.
We made our way to the bar, Connor’s presence beside me both comforting and nerve-wracking. I ordered a whiskey neat, while Connor asked for just water.
“Not drinking?” I raised an eyebrow.
“Not today,” he said simply.
I understood immediately. He was keeping his wits about him, making sure nothing went wrong. For my sake. The realization made something warm unfurl in my chest.
“Cheers anyway,” I said, raising my glass to his.
Connor clinked his water against my whiskey. “To keeping promises,” he said quietly.
The whiskey burned pleasantly down my throat, but it was nothing compared to the heat that spread through me at his words. We stood side by side, watching the dancers, neither of us speaking. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, though. For the first time since I’d met him, I felt like we were just two people enjoying each other’s company without games or power struggles.
“Come with me,” Connor said suddenly, placing his glass down and heading out of the tent.
I drained my own glass and followed quickly behind, surprised by his sudden shift. He led me away from the reception area, through a gap between two white tents, and out toward a small grove of aspen trees. The leaves shimmered in the late afternoon sun, casting dappled shadows across the grass. My heart pounded as I followed him, wondering what he was doing, where he was taking me.
When we reached the trees, far enough from the wedding that the music was just a distant pulse, Connor stopped and turned to face me.
“One month,” he said, his voice deep and steady. “You kept your word.”
I swallowed hard, suddenly nervous. “I did.”
“No games, no teasing, no pushing the boundaries. Even when your father...” His jaw tightened, eyes flicking briefly to the spot where my bruise was hidden under makeup.
“I told you I could do it,” I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt. “I’m not just some spoiled rich kid who doesn’t know how to follow rules.”
Connor stepped closer, his eyes never leaving mine. “No, you’re not,” he agreed. “You surprised me, Ryder.”
The way he said my name sent a shiver down my spine. “Good surprised or bad surprised?”
“Good,” he said simply. Then he reached out, his calloused fingers gently tracing the line of my jaw where the bruise was hidden. “You’ve been a very good boy.”
I couldn’t breathe. His touch was so gentle, so careful, as if I might break under his fingers. No one had ever touched me like that before… like I was something precious rather than something to be used. And those words… oh my god…
“Connor,” I whispered, leaning into his touch. “Please.”
I wasn’t even sure what I was asking for, but he seemed to understand. His hand slid to the back of my neck, fingers threading through my hair as he pulled me closer. He paused for just a moment, his breath playing over my lips as he hungrily drank me in. My eyes fluttered closed as his lips finally—finally—met mine.
The kiss was soft at first, almost tentative, as if he was giving me a chance to pull away. But when I pressed closer, my hands finding his waist, he deepened the kiss. His mouth was warm and sure against mine, his body solid and real. It was nothing like the rough, hurried kisses I was used to from other men. This was deliberate, controlled, and so much more intense for it.
When we finally broke apart, I was breathing hard, my fingers clutching at his shirt like I might float away if I let go. My cock was so hard it hurt.
