“You’re moving out too? Tilly, at least live with me, I’ll stay out of your way, I promise! You can have Ivy’s room again.”
“That wouldn’t work and you know it. It’s probably best if we cut ties completely…”
“What the fuck, Tilly? We can’t even be friends?”
“I can’t be friends with you,” I sob. “You have no idea how agonising it is to say that because I love you so fucking much. The thought of not seeing you every day kills me! When something happens, good or bad, you’re the first person I want to talk to about it. I want to share everything with you. I want a life with you. But if I don’t do this properly, I won’t get better, and I won’t end up having a life with you anyway. I won’t have a life at all.”
Horror consumes Connor’s face when my words sink in and he realises the meaning behind them, and I know I’ve won. Not that this feels like much of a victory.
“I love you,” Connor whispers, reaching over to caress my cheek. “I hate this, Tilly. I fucking hate it. But I want you to be safe. I’d prefer if you were close so I could help to keep you safe, but I understand why you’re doing this. It might just break my heart, but I…” Connor swallows, a tear escaping his eye. “I support you.”
Clashing emotions battle for control in my chest. Relief. Anxiety. Sadness. Love. Mainly love. Not wanting to drag out the pain for either of us, I decide to make a hasty exit.
“I’ll just grab a couple of things from upstairs, then I’ll be out of your hair.”
“No.” Despite the obvious devastation on his face, Connor’svoice is firm.
“What? You just said you’d support me.”
“And I will. Tomorrow. I’ll even help you pack. But there’s no way I’m letting you go tonight.” His tone turns pleading as he threads both hands into my hair, forcing me to look at him. “Please give me one more night before I have to say goodbye to the only woman I’ll ever love.”
Well, shit. How can I say no to that?
Chapter 43
You make me feel safe
“Okay.” My voice is shaky, but it doesn’t matter.
Connor doesn’t give me chance to speak before his lips crash down to mine. In the time we’ve been together, Connor and I have shared many types of kisses. Sweet kisses, loving kisses, hot kisses and everything in between. But we’ve never shared a kiss so desperate and wanton before.
Connor’s tongue invades my mouth while his hands hold me firmly, one in my hair at the back of my neck and one on my lower back, pulling me closer to him as if he’s scared I’ll run if he lets go. But I want this as much as he does. We need closure. So, for once, I take control and show him how much he means to me.
Fisting my hands in his T-shirt, I lead him backwards until his back meets the counter. Connor’s lips leave mine as he trails kisses across my jaw and down my neck. While he’s distracted, doing what feels suspiciously like giving me a hickey, I reach for his belt.
“Are you marking me?” I ask breathlessly, fumbling with hisbuckle.
“Yes.” His answer is unashamed. “I accept that I can’t have you after tonight, but I want everyone to know that they can’t have you either.”
My breath hitches at his possessive words, and I work faster to unzip his jeans.
“It’s just a shame it’s not more permanent,” he says. “How would you feel about getting a tattoo?”
“Seems a little extreme,” I joke, assuming he’s joking too. “What would you want me to get? ‘Property of Connor Wilson’ across my stomach with an arrow pointing down?”
Beneath my palm, I feel him twitch at my words, and a sound very much like a growl comes from his chest.
“Fuck, now that you mention it—”
I finally manage to open his jeans, and slide my hand into his boxers. We both moan when I grip his shaft and slowly pump him up and down.
“Shit,” he hisses when I run my thumb along the head. His eyes widen slightly when I pull away from his mouth and start lowering myself to my knees. “Tilly, wait,” he protests, but it’s half-hearted. “This was supposed to be about you, not me.”
“Why can’t it be about both of us?” I lower his jeans and boxers so they pool around his ankles.
“I don’t know. I’m too turned on to think. What was your question?”
I don’t answer. Instead, I take him in my hand and lick him from base to tip. Connor throws his head back and grips the edge of the counter so tightly his knuckles turn white. He’s trying to keep control. But I don’t want him to be controlled. If this is the last night I have with him, I want him to be raw. Feral.
