Connor
The moment I see the long, dark hair and slim, yet curvy figure, I recognize Trish. It’s like my body remembers hers, as though she imprinted herself onto me, and I take a moment to stare, trying to make sure she’s not just a figment of my imagination. She’s eating a petit four and looks gloriously happy about it which makes my lips twitch.
Then her tongue flicks out to lick the frosting off those full, plump lips of hers and my dick twitches.
I haven’t been able to forget about her since our night together. Despite stepping into my father’s shoes and working so much more, Trish has always remained at the edge of my thoughts during the long days and the center of my dreams every single night. Even though I’m across the room, I can already smell her honey vanilla scent.
She calls to me in every single way, like some kind of siren. Then her dark brown gaze lifts and the moment she sees me, her mouth forms a little “O” of surprise. I don’t know what I’m expecting to happen, but definitely not for her to spin around and run away.
I am not losing her again. The thought flashes through my head and I race after her, determinedly weaving through the crowd, trying to keep eyes on the back of her dark head and
that red, backless dress which is already putting all kinds of dirty thoughts in my head.
When I find myself in a dimly-lit gallery, away from the party, I stumble to a stop and listen closely. I don’t see her, but she couldn’t have gotten far.
“Trish?” My voice echoes through the empty room and I move to the next area where several exhibits in glass cases are on display. That’s when I spot her, spinning around the corner.
“Trish, wait!” I yell and chase after her. It’s not hard to catch up because her heels are higher than a damn skyscraper. She knows she’s been caught because she suddenly stops and slowly turns around to face me.
I draw in a sharp breath, and it hits me that she’s even more beautiful than I remember. I have no idea how the hell that’s even possible, but my pulse thunders madly as I approach her, and my throat goes dry. I’m absolutely taken by her loveliness.
She literally steals my breath away.
“Stop running from me, dammit,” I manage to say and stalk up to her. Those chestnut brown eyes reluctantly meet mine and, for the briefest moment, I think I see fear, but then it quickly vanishes.
Overcome with the urge to drag her into my arms, I hold myself back because something is wrong, and I intend to find out. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“Away from you,” she says.
“Why?” I demand and step closer.
“Was our night together so horrible that I scared you away?” Although I’m half-teasing, I’m also serious. What would possess her to run away from me like that?
“No,” she whispers. “I… I just figured a one-night stand meant exactly that. One night and that’s it.”
“Who said that’s all I wanted? Is that all you wanted?” I take a step closer, and she tenses up. “Trish, why are you acting scared of me?”
“I’m not,” she says defensively. “I just didn’t want to put either of us in an awkward position so I, um, was going to leave.”
“Well, that would’ve been a shame since I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”
“What?” she asks, voice breathless.
“You heard me.” I cage her in, laying my palms on either side of her shoulders, flat against the cool wall. “Do you have any idea how annoyed I was when I woke up and discovered you’d snuck out?”
“I figured it would be better that way.”
“It wasn’t.” I reach over with my right hand and lay it along her face, tracing my fingers lightly along her jawline. “I even went back to the pub that night to look for you.”
“You tried to find me?”
“Why are you so surprised, mia cara?” I ask, searching her gaze, trying to understand. “That night was incredible, and I’ll never forget it. I wasn’t ready for it to end and I’m still not – ”
I lower my head and the moment she tilts her face up, my mouth slams against hers. The kiss is all-consuming, passionate and full of scorching heat. Just like that night, I can’t seem to get enough of her no matter how much I deepen the kiss.
My tongue strokes hers, and my body presses into her soft curves. Mmm. She tastes like strawberries and chocolate.
Trish’s hands slide up my jacket lapels and wrap around my neck, trying to drag me closer. Needing the same, desperate for her body to be as close as it possibly can be, my hands glide over her hips and round over the curve of her ass, drawing her against me and holding her tightly, letting her feel the need raging through me.
How could she ever have doubted my interest? An interest that has escalated into a desperate need.
Almost an obsession.
We continue to devour each, lost in the moment in the dark corner of the gallery. When she starts making little, husky whimpering sounds in the back of her throat, I reluctantly pull away with a groan. This isn’t the place to continue this because I’ll lose control and end up fucking her against this damn wall. I want to get out of here and go somewhere private. Back to my place.
“Leave with me,” I rasp, shoving my hands through her long, dark hair. Christ, it’s so soft and she smells like a honey-dipped confection.
“I can’t,” she murmurs, drawing back. “I’m not letting you walk away again, Trish. No fucking way.”
A frown furrows her brow, and she looks so torn.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” I ask, lightly touching the frown between her dark eyes.
“I just don’t think this is a good idea. Us, I mean,” she murmurs.
But there’s no truth or force behind her words. She’s struggling to even say them, and I shake my head. “I don’t know why you’re pulling away, but if you tell me, I’ll help you. If something’s wrong… if you’re in trouble or need something, anything – ”
“I’m just dealing with, ah, family issues right now.” She swallows hard and I hate how she’s making excuses.
Stop bullshitting me, mia cara.
“So am I,” I state, not letting her off the hook that easily. “Maybe I can help you.”
A sudden laugh bursts from her throat. “I don’t think so.”
It’s clear she isn’t going to confide in me. Time to play dirty, I think, reaching for her silky skirts, lifting them slowly.
“Connor!” she gasps, hand slapping over mine, stopping its ascent.
I never told her my name was Connor.
My gaze locks with hers, eyes narrowing slightly. She only knows me as Gideon. I move my hand right between her legs and boldly lay it over her mound, cupping her.
Mine.
The possessive thought infiltrates and consumes me. A soft moan slips from between her lips as I begin to caress her through the dress.
Making her remember just how good it was between us. And how amazing it can be again.