Of warmth. Desire. Security. And Connor.
Always Connor.
Chapter Eighteen
Just because you don’t know what you’re doing doesn’t mean you shouldn’t do it. Right?
Tips and tricks for every situation from divorce lawyer Connor Stone
Are you actually asking me? - Rachel
The weight of Rachel’s head on his chest kept him safely and soundly on the mattress, even though he felt like he should be floating a few inches above it. The stress, pressure, torment, and burden of the last few days had vanished, replaced by a sweet calm. He was surprised his heart was even beating anymore; it should be medically dead.
He felt like he’d hit rock bottom: He no longer had the strength to fight his attraction to Rachel. And rock bottom shouldn’t feel so damn good. Connor didn’t get the impressionthat he’d lost his mind — more like he’d found it. It all seemed so…clear.
“What are you thinking?” Rachel whispered, throwing one leg over his before resting her head on his bicep so she could look at him.
“You,” he answered honestly.
She smiled broadly. The moonlight filtered through the skylight of the bedroom, reflecting in her pupils. “Anything specific?”
He looked at her thoughtfully. “I thought it would be bad if I gave in to this. But so far, I can’t find anything wrong.”
“Give us a few days,” she whispered.
He ran his thumb gently over her cheek. No, that wouldn’t be enough. Not with her body pressed against his as if she were a damn glove. “We’ll see,” he murmured. He didn’t want to commit. He didn't want any more rules and plans. Didn’t want to…limit this.
The thought unsettled him, making his back tense and the pillow crunch beneath him. The fabric he was lying on was rather strange.
Frowning, he reached behind him and pulled the pillow from beneath his neck. The moonlight barely illuminated the dark room, but he still recognized that the pillow wasn’t normal. Connor wouldn’t call himself a snob, but he held the eccentric opinion that a pillow should be square or rectangular, and in rare exceptions, round. Not L-shaped. Also, a pillow should look like a pillow and not half a man’s torso. And since when did pillows have fabric arms?
“What the hell is this?” he asked, confused.
Rachel, her eyes closed again, yawned, opened one…and groaned softly. “Oh no.”
“It looks like you cut someone in half,” he persisted. He’d found things in other women’s beds, but no handcuffs,hamsters, or wedding magazines had ever caught him off guard like this.
“It was a joke gift from Lucy,” Rachel said, frowning. “After I broke up with my last boyfriend. She sent it to me with a note:Anyway, the most important thing about a man is…his shoulder.”
Connor chuckled softly. “So, you agree with your sister?”
She grinned. “Men’s shoulders are practical. I was actually going to throw it away, but it’s quite comfortable. It fits nicely around the neck. You can give it to me and…”
“No,” he said sharply. “I don’t want to compete with my brother and certainly not with a pillow.” Without further ado, he threw it through the open bedroom door into the living room. “So don’t get any stupid ideas. You won’t need it tonight.”
“So, you’re…staying?” Rachel asked hesitantly.
“Shouldn’t I?” He raised his eyebrows in surprise. He hadn’t even thought about it. But if Rachel didn’t want him to…
“Yes. Yes, yes,” she said hastily as he began to pull his leg out from under hers. “Stay. I just…didn’t think you were the kind of man who’d stay the night.”
No, neither did he. “I’m not done with you yet,” he murmured, twisting one of the strands of hair tickling his chest around his finger. “And if I have to choose between a bed with you and an apartment with my brother…”
“Then I’m the better choice?” she asked, amused.
“Yes, you smell better.” He buried his nose in the crook of her neck and inhaled deeply.
Rachel laughed. “That’s a lie. Alec smells like frosting.”
