by L. D. Davis
As his fingers expertly began to move down my back, my breathing became shallow. So did his. I could hear him, struggling to take deep, even breaths.
We were silent, except for our increasingly ragged breathing. Connor was even quiet as he moved closer to me. I never heard him take any steps, but I could sense his closeness, feel the static of him, the energy of him, making the fine hairs on the back of my neck stand straight up.
My hands curled around nothing. They shakily closed and flexed open again repeatedly, wishing for something to hold on to, for something to help stabilize me. But there was nothing. Nothing but me and Connor. And Connor’s hands as they eased down toward the round curves below my back, to the place that might take our little massage party too far.
The sound of my phone ringing and vibrating was ear-splitting in our silence. I jumped at the sound and Connor’s hands ceased moving and seemed to freeze just below the waistband of my jeans. I stared at the phone as my sister’s face smiled up at me from the screen.
I didn’t have to explain to Connor why I wasn’t going to ignore her call. Always paranoid that she would go into preterm labor as Daisy had done with my baby sister Caroline, I tried my hardest to never miss McKenzie’s calls. Just in case.
“Hello?” I answered breathlessly.
“Hey,” she said around a big yawn. “I just want to thank you again for the cake. I really liked all the other stuff, too, but the cake, Dar…it was perfect. It was so beautiful, and I know you must have worked really hard on it. It was the best gift I ever got, I swear.”
Her pregnancy hormones had kicked in again because she began to cry. Again. I almost cried next when Connor’s hands slipped under my shirt. His big, warm hands slowly began to move up my back, pushing the shirt up with them.
“Umm…” I grasped for words to say to my sister. “I…you’re welcome, Kenz. I loved making it for you.”
His fingers once again pressed on that spot on my neck and my head bowed. I bit off my moan before it could escape my lips.
McKenzie rambled on, but I had no clue what the hell she said. I know I responded with some form of acknowledgment every now and then, but my eyes had sealed shut the instant Connor’s lips replaced his fingers on my neck. My skin sizzled from his light kisses. My breath shuddered. The only reason I hadn’t dropped to the floor in a total swoon was because his hands were holding me up as they followed their previous path back down my body. When he reached my jeans again, he didn’t stop.
“Deep breath,” he whispered in my ear, making me jump a little. I started to look back at him in confusion, but he repeated, “Deep breath.”
I was perplexed, but I did as he said and took a deep breath. Then his thumbs pressed into my flesh.
The sound that tumbled out of my mouth was downright pornographic. It was a salacious cry of pain and ecstasy. Every sexual fiber in my body had awoken with a jolt. Blood raced into some areas of my body, making them swell and harden and ache with need.
The pain was…so good.
I wanted him to stop, and I wanted him to go on. I wanted him to grow a second pair of hands so that he could touch all the places on my body that had suddenly erupted in flame.
“Ermmm…” McKenzie’s voice cut into my aroused haze.
I froze, and Connor’s thumbs eased off the pressure points, and he stopped kissing my neck, but his body pinned mine against the counter. I felt the length of him against my ass and could feel his heart pounding against my back. His hands had moved to my bare stomach, and they trembled there as they moved in small, slow circles.
“Am I interrupting something?” Kenzie asked. Her tone was cautious, but I could almost see the big ass smile on her face.
I swallowed hard and tried to sound normal. “No.”
“Yes,” Connor said at the same time.
I stared at my phone in horror as silence blanketed the room for several ticks of the clock.
“McKenzie,” he said her name politely, but firmly.
“Connor,” she responded.
“Good night.”
She giggled. “Good night, y’all.”
The call ended, and before I could take my next breath, I was turning in Connor’s arms. He put both hands on my face and kissed me.
His beard was startlingly soft against my face. His thumb stroked my jaw and sent tiny tendrils of static through my body. His other hand dropped to my waist, and he pulled me closer.
I felt electricity zinging through my veins as he kissed me. The butterflies in my stomach were being scorched alive, as their fiery wings beat frantically inside me. I had never been kissed like that before, as if he meant to steal every breath and never return them…or as if I had already stolen all of his. There was nothing soft about it. He kissed me hard and without mercy, but it held a hint of desperation I had never felt before.
I wanted to seek the heart of that desperation, to kiss him until I was climbing into his mouth and into his body where I could root around and discover him in his secret places. Those secret places of ourselves that no one else had access to, not even us sometimes.
My fingers laced together around his neck, and I stood as tall as I could to kiss him deeper. He obliged by placing a hand on the back of my head and kissing me harder. I could barely breathe, but I didn’t care. Oxygen was overrated. Breathing was overrated. The only thing that mattered was Connor’s mouth, my mouth, his body and my body molded together, melting together in the heat of our kiss.
When his mouth finally separated from mine, we were both gasping. I was light-headed and giddy, high off our contact.
Connor’s forehead touched mine, and I could feel his breaths on my lips.
“I’ve wanted to do that since you spoke that beautiful word to me in Louie’s,” he whispered.
My forehead wrinkled. “Nachos?”
He groaned. “Yeah, that’s the one.”
I laughed softly as I dropped my hands down to his waist.
“You laugh, but it’s true,” he said. “Just the idea of such a beautiful woman chowing down on some sloppy nachos was a major turn on. I imagined your hands and mouth all cheesy and messy.”
I snorted with laughter. “You’re cheesy.”
“Damn. And you snort when you laugh, too? How could I not want to kiss you?”
“So, kiss me again,” I whispered, tilting my face up toward his.
He made a sexy sound in his throat and moved in for another kiss, but the timer on the oven went off just as his lips touched mine.
“Oh!” I pushed him away and hurried to the oven.
I had forgotten about the cinnamon buns, even though the smell of cinnamon and dough perfumed the kitchen.
Connor came up behind me and put his hands on my waist as I moved each cinnamon bun to a cooling rack. I smiled with a girlish excitement as the butterflies went wild.
When I finished, he guided me back to the island and lifted me onto one of the tall chairs. There was mischief in his eyes as he reached behind me. A few seconds later I understood why. He held up his index finger for me to see. The tip of the finger was coated with the buttercream frosting I’d made for the cinnamon buns.
He carefully spread the frosting across my bottom lip. I could feel it there, sticky and cool. I resisted the urge to lick it away. I was glad I did because he bent toward me then. His lips slowly sucked my bottom lip into his warm mouth. My breath caught, and I forgot to breathe altogether for a few seconds when his tongue swept across my lip.
“Mmm,” he hummed.
He pulled back and smiled impishly as he reached for the frosting again. I licked my lips in anticipation.
His fingertip touched my lip again, but only briefly as it passed through and into my mouth. I closed my mouth around his finger and sucked away the frosting. He growled softly as he watched his finger move slowly in and out of my mouth.
He kissed me again, and he tasted almost as sweet as the icing. We played like that for a little while, spreading the icing on each other�
��s lips and tongues, and sucking and kissing it away. We were getting very sticky, but I didn’t mind. I didn’t even mind it when he spread some of the icing on my neck, especially since he licked and kissed it away.
As he gazed into my eyes, he began to unbutton my shirt. I held my breath as each button popped open. I was dizzy from the lack of oxygen when he slowly pushed the shirt off me and brought his lips to one bare shoulder. It slid down my arms as he kissed a trail across my collarbone to my other shoulder. When he bit down gently, I released the breath I had been holding and moaned softly.
“What’s this?” he asked and stood up straight. He touched my upper arm, but before I could look down, he touched my other arm, too. “And this.”
The bruises. I had somehow managed to forget them, which was a good thing and a bad thing. It was good because it meant that I had been able to go through my day without thinking about Cade too much. It was bad because in doing so, I had forgotten what he’d done to me, and I should never forget it. Any of it.
“It’s nothing,” I mumbled to Connor, my humor gone.
I couldn’t quite meet his eyes, but when I did dare look up for an instant, I found his eyes settled on the bruise in the center of my chest.
He was absolutely still for several seconds. I felt awkward, sitting before him with him standing between my legs as he looked at my own very personal shame.
I wanted him to stop looking at me like that, to stop looking in me. It was like he had already climbed inside of me, as I wanted to do with him, and he was rooting around, searching my every dark and gray corner.
“Hey,” he said. He put a finger under my chin and tilted my head up.
I forced myself to meet his penetrating gaze as I steeled myself for a discussion I didn’t want to have. With anyone. Ever.
But…he didn’t say anything more. He smiled at me and tugged on my braid. He meant the smile, but I could see the unasked questions and unvoiced concerns in his eyes.
I sighed with relief and too many feelings when he kissed me softly. He stroked my cheeks with his thumbs as his mouth tenderly moved against mine. I was surprised by how much comfort I took from his kiss and touch; comfort I didn’t even know I needed.
He pulled away but continued to hold my face in his hands. There was something very open and vulnerable in his brandy eyes. I saw a sensitivity there that I’d never seen in any man’s eyes. I didn’t mistake it for weakness, though. There was nothing weak in his gaze, in his body, or in him.
Without a word, Connor bent over me again. He kissed one bruised shoulder and then the other before kissing my chest. Then he took my hands into his, pulled me off the stool, and led me to his bedroom.
Chapter Seventeen
I had moved to Philadelphia a virgin at the age of eighteen. I had dated a couple guys in that first year, but I didn’t want any of them to be my first. None of them were worthy of filling that position.
It nearly happened on that first night with Cade in his kitchen. He’d had me sprawled across one of the stainless steel tables, my shirt was gone, and my bra unhooked. He had been shirtless, and his pants were open. My own pants had been inching down my thighs when I’d awaken from my sexual daze and shot up so fast, our heads had crashed together.
“Ow!” we’d shouted together as we’d reached for our aching heads.
“What the fuck, Darla?” Cade had growled.
I’d squeezed my eyes shut as I rubbed my head. So I hadn’t seen his face when I’d blurted out, “I’m a virgin!”
There had been a shocked silence for several seconds.
“What?” he’d finally said, his voice low.
I’d dared to open one eye and to peek at him. “Virgin,” I’d said less forcefully than before. “I’m a virgin, and I don’t want to lose my virginity on a prep table, even at M.J.’s. Maybe some culinary folks would find that sexy and naughty, but to me, it just seems unsanitary. I’d never be able to eat anything from here again without wondering if it was prepared on the same table where my cherry was popped. Again, some folks might find that appetizing, but not me. I did read a book about a female bounty hunter who’d lost her virginity on the floor of a bakery, but even that doesn’t sound appealing.”
Cade had put his hands on either side of me and leaned toward me, one eyebrow cocked and a smirk on his mouth.
“Do you always ramble so fucking much when you’re nervous?”
“Only sometimes,” I’d admitted.
He’d kissed me, and I had gotten lost in it, in him. I’d nearly forgotten our circumstances until he’d pulled away and put his hands on my bare hips.
“When I told you I wouldn’t be able to stop earlier, did you not know what I meant? Didn’t you know that I’d want to be inside you, Darla?”
I’d shrugged. “I thought you meant you wouldn’t be able to stop kissing me. I was okay with that.”
He’d chuckled and had kissed my forehead where it had made contact with his. I’d noticed that his own head was red.
“You sweet, sweet, innocent country girl,” Cade had said affectionately. “I’m going to ruin you, and I’m going to enjoy doing it.”
He’d taken a step back from me and to my surprise, he’d begun to fix my bra.
“We’re going to get dressed, clean up, and go back to my place,” he’d explained as he’d pulled my shirt on over my head. “I’m going to lay you in my bed and do some dirty things to you, but…” He’d ducked his head to meet my eyes. “I won’t take your virginity. Not tonight anyway.”
He’d kept his word. He had done other things to me that would still make my heart race when I thought about it years later, but he hadn’t taken my virginity that night. He’d taken it two weeks later, in his bed.
There had never been anyone else, not even during any of our breakups. There had only been Caden…until Connor.
I was nervous when he led me to his bedroom and began to undress me. That anxiety evaporated, however, when he kissed me hard as he held my hips against his body so I could feel his erection. My sore mouth throbbed, but I ignored it as I reached under Connor’s shirt and put my hands on his hard stomach.
He pulled away from me with a startled laugh and folded his hands over mine.
“Why are your hands so freakin’ cold?”
“My hands aren’t cold,” I argued. “Your body is hot.”
He dropped one of my hands to flex a bicep. “Yeah. I work out.”
I giggled as I loosened my hands from his. I slid them back under his shirt and tilted my face up to his. “Shut up and kiss me.”
He grinned, pulled on my braid with a small growl and complied, at least momentarily.
“I want your hair down like it was earlier,” he said and began to undo it.
“Your hands are too cold,” I mocked in a mopey voice. “Your hair is too braidy.”
He planted a kiss on my lips. “Braidy isn’t a real word. Turn around, brat.”
He turned me around to finish taking my braid out.
“Are you going to paint my nails, too?” I teased.
He gave me a light smack on the ass. “Only if you ask nicely.”
A few seconds later, my hair was hanging down my back, and Connor’s fingers were moving through it.
“I’ve wanted to do this since I sat down next to you at Louie’s the other night.” He swept my hair aside and kissed my neck. “Darla, sweet Darla, let down your hair.”
He kissed a blazing trail down my spine until he reached the enclosure for my bra. I held my hair over my shoulder and out of his way so that he could unhook me, but there seemed to be some kind of struggle.
I glanced over my shoulder at him. His face was intent on his task. “Are you okay back there?”
“You have the most complicated bra in the history of the world, but everything is cool.”
I turned my head back to hide my amusement. A moment later, my bra slid off my arms and dropped to the floor. I crossed my arms over my chest before I slowly turned around
to face him. I wasn’t ashamed of my body, but I had never been so exposed in front of another man before.
Connor’s gaze moved from my arms up to my eyes. He couldn’t have known exactly why, but he did seem to understand that I was a bit skittish. One hand tangled in my hair as he leaned in to kiss me.
His mouth was so warm, so soft, and he kissed me so thoroughly, that my arms slowly dropped away from my chest. He didn’t reach for me and grope for me as I expected, but he pulled me closer and continued to kiss me as if he appreciated me as a person more than he appreciated my body.
My hands found their way under his shirt again. I felt his intake of breath as I made contact. I was gratified to know that my touch affected him just as much as his affected me. When we finally broke apart, breathing heavily, I began to pull his shirt up over his torso. He raised his arms for me, but either I was terrible at disrobing my partner, or the shirt hole was too small, or maybe his head was too big. The T-shirt got stuck on his head, and his arms were standing out at an angle.
“The idea is to remove my clothes,” Connor said conversationally, his voice muffled by the shirt.
I laughed as I tugged it off. “It’s not my fault you have an enormous head.”
He growled at me and stopped my laughter by putting his mouth on mine as he began to unbutton my jeans. I loved that he seemed unable to stop kissing me. I felt as if I were unable to stop kissing him, too.
It took me a moment to realize that he was tugging hard on my zipper, but it wasn’t budging. He growled again, and I laughed. Connor cussed as he kneeled in front of me and continued to struggle with the zipper.
“Stop laughing,” he grumbled, though I could tell he was trying not to laugh himself.
I put a hand over my mouth to stifle my giggles.
Fed up with my resistant zipper, he grasped either side of the opening and yanked. I made a protesting squeak as I felt the zipper give and break.
“I’ll buy you new jeans,” he said unapologetically as he stood up.
“But I—”
He shut me up with another kiss. I melted into him, willing to forget about my jeans for the time being. My own fingers worked at the button of his jeans. I got them open without any problems, but as he tried to get out of his pants, he tripped over his own two feet. He stumbled into me and reflexively reached for my waist, but then we both went down on the bed, a tangle of arms, legs, and jeans.
