Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 138287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
Whelp, it was too late to remove it now.
My guess was thousands of people had already taken screenshots and sent it to their friends.
Unfortunately, the Internet was forever.
Trudging back to him, I put my knee to the bed, straddled Connor and lifted my phone, taking a snap. If Connor was claiming me publicly, I was doing the same. The photo turned out great, even more so when I realized my thighs had made a surprise appearance and Connor rested his hands on them possessively. His sly smile would be the star of every girl’s wet dream tonight.
I typed quickly and muttered, “Well, now you’ve done it.”
His phone vibrated on the nightstand but he ignored it. And that small act… I loved him for it.
It showed where his values lied. With me, in the here and now.
Before I put my phone down, I looked at the photo one last time and read my caption.
Fight for the one you love.
#GotHim #ThisGuy #ConnorClash
Yeah. That would just about do it.
I turned my phone off and threw it onto the covers. Connor took his phone from the nightstand and did the same. As I lay beside him, he ran his fingertips up and down my back and said, “I know I’m in no position to ask things of you but,” His tone was guarded, and when I looked up at him, I found his warm eyes already on me. “If you wanted to start wearing your ring again—” His smile was small but optimistic. “—that would be pretty great.”
I threw the brakes on this speeding train lightning fast. “No.” His face fell but he nodded. I softened the blow by uttering, “Not yet.”
He nodded again, running his fingertips down my arm. “We’re not there yet.”
“We’re not there yet,” I confirmed. Surprisingly, it was me who added, “But we will be.”
Connor’s brows arched. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I breathed.
His face dipped and he caught my lips in a deep, bruising kiss that made me positively heady. When he pulled back, he played with a strand of my hair. “No rush, baby. Besides, for you?” The words were soft. He picked up my hand and brought it to his mouth, speaking against it. “I’d wait forever.”
It took me a moment to register what he said and when I did, I jumped him.
Connor’s laughter filled the room.
And for the first time in months, I was happy again.
Ecstatic, really.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Crazy Little Thing Called Love.
Emmy
Connor and I spent the next few weeks dating, and it was the best of all of my new experiences. He picked me up every second night and took me out. We did it all, went out to lunches and dinners, spent our nights at bars drinking awful warm beer and listening to live music. We did dessert nights and midnight car rides, and to Connor’s absolute joy, we even went to bingo. On the nights we didn’t see each other, we spent hours on the phone like a couple of teenagers until the early hours of the morning.
We were now at the point where leaving each other became harder and harder, and every time I said goodbye to him, the familiar ache I felt all those months ago returned to me. It didn’t help that we weren’t being intimate. In fact, the lack of sexual intimacy started to feel like a tight band choking the life out of me.
I wanted to close the gap but I didn’t know how.
Tonight, my hand felt small in his as he walked me to my door and when we got there, he smiled down at me, taking my face in his hands. My heart jolted then warmed when he brushed his lips against mine.
I didn’t want to be left alone. I wanted Connor with me, in my bed, in a place where I could show him just how much I loved him and needed him. “Don’t go.”
“I have to.” He pecked my lips lovingly over and over again, and it slayed me.
“No, you don’t.”
“I do.”
“Come inside with me,” I all but begged.
His eyes narrowed playfully. “Baby, are you trying to seduce me?”
“Maybe.”
He settled his hand at my nape, massaging it, and I smiled into his mouth, running my tongue over the seam of his lips. He shuddered, moaning lightly and he pulled away then very obviously adjusting his erection. “Jesus. I hate this.”
My whine matched his. “I do too.” Taking a small step forward, I placed my hand in his, linking our fingers. “So, come inside.”
But he swallowed hard, shaking his head, his jaw tight. I was mildly shocked to see that his hands began to shake. He snapped his eyes shut and his breathing got heavy.
“Honey?” I was instantly concerned at the visible perspiration that appeared at his forehead and temples.
He breathed through the beginning of a possible panic attack and looked up at me with misery in his eyes. “I—” His first attempt to speak was cut off. Clearing his throat, he steadied his breathing and said, “I’m petrified.” The moment he said it, he shut his eyes and dug his free palm into his eye socket.