Connor chooses that moment to come into the kitchen, carrying his dirty dishes as well.
“Connor, help me out here,” Grey says, ignoring my desire to end this conversation.
My asshole clenches, and I try to stop this conversation before it can derail any further.
“My focus is boarding, end of story.” Connor stands next to me, holding his plate. “You can just set it in here. I’ll get it,” I tell him, pointing to the sink.
“I don’t want to create more work for you,” he replies gently, with too much concern in his voice.
“Suit yourself.” I hand him the scrubber brush and pick up a towel to dry the plates I’ve just washed. His features betrayhis shock at my clipped tone, but he schools them quickly. I just hope it was quick enough. It could be all the conspiracy theories about Grey that Connor’s been shoving down my throat, but it’s hard not to feel like Grey’s earlier questions were asked with purpose.
“Oh, Vox,” Rachel says, coming into the kitchen a moment later, “Aiden wanted me to tell you they’re going to see a movie tonight, and you’re invited.”
Connor stiffens beside me.
“Thanks for the heads up,” I tell Rachel.
“Well?” Grey asks, rejoining the conversation.
“Well, what?” I ask.
“Are you going?”
“Why the sudden interest in my love life, Grey?” I ask, trying like hell to keep my tone light and a smile on my face.
“You’ve been working hard. Just want to make sure you’re achieving balance.”
This makes me laugh. “Those of us at the top aren’t afforded the luxury of balance,” I remind him, paraphrasing words he once said to me.
By the time I escape the Patterson residence forty minutes later, I’m a ball of tension, desperate to hear my name on Connor’s lips and get on with our night. He tries to follow me out the door, but Grey asks him to hang back.
I manage to give Connor a handshake without hauling him to my chest and kissing him, but just barely. With his back to Grey, he says, “Have a good night,” but he mouths, ‘I’ll be there soon.’
It feels like an eternity until there’s a knock on my door.
The tension from dinner that was fed by our lust and the need we share for each other bursts into shreds the second Connor’s over the threshold.
He cups my face in his freezing hands before he evenremoves his jacket. It’s snowing outside, and every move he makes sends more snowflakes to the floor.
“Jesus, Vox, I’m so fucking sorry.” He peppers my mouth with quick, closed-lip kisses and begins talking again. “I’m sorry I didn’t remember meeting you.”Kiss.“I’m sorry I disappeared.”Kiss.“And I’m really fucking sorry I broke my promise.”
Okay, so it’s clear Grey spilled the beans after I left his office. Not surprising, but a little embarrassing. Or at least, it would be if Connor weren’t assaulting me with apologies and kisses.
Connor quickly shrugs out of his coat and guides me to the couch in my living room. He sits down and pulls me on top of him, forcing me to straddle his thighs or risk kneeing him right in the dick as he continues talking, not pausing to take a breath or let me get a word in edgewise.
“I felt like I needed to be the one to stop this. My feelings for you arenotcomplicated, but my role in your lifeis, and I feel like it’s my job to protect you. Except I can’t stop thinking about you. Thinking about that night we shared. Thinking about how much I want to be around you all the fucking time.” His hands are everywhere, rubbing up and down my thighs, my sides, slipping under the cotton T-shirt I changed into as soon as I got home. “Please say you forgive me. Please say we can do this until it all blows up in our faces. Please…just tell me you’remine.”
Finally exhausted of words, Connor goes silent, his fingers digging into my hips like he’s afraid I’ll vanish into thin air.
Sitting on him like this, with my knees spread wide, makes me grind against him involuntarily. Something about the position sends a signal to my brain that it’s time to play.
Connor groans with the friction, his head hitting the back of the couch. “Do it again,” he demands.
Gripping his shoulders for leverage, I honor his request.
“Vox, tell me you forgive me,” he pleads.
I should probably make him work for it. Butshoulda, coulda, woulda…
