Connor
“How wet are you right now?” I ask huskily, fingers working their magic.
“Oh, God.” Her hips push against my hand and she grabs onto my shoulders to stay upright.
“If you won’t come home with me then I’m going to need that phone number of yours.” I lower my face and begin kissing the side of her neck as my massaging fingers apply just the right amount of pressure to her sensitive clit. Stroking relentlessly until she’s panting and barely able to stand up.
“Connor,” she gasps and a shudder runs through her body as she comes. “Ohhh…” She collapses against me, breathing hard, panting against my chest, and I wrap my arms around her.
After a moment, she pulls back and a soft sigh shudders out between those tempting, slightly smeared red lips. I lift a finger to mine and wipe away any traces of her lipstick. Then I reach into an inner pocket and pull out my phone. After punching in my password, I hand it over.
“Number, please,” I say. “Now.”
She’s not getting away this time, so she may as well just do as she’s told.
It seems like she’s going to hesitate, but the moment we both hear voices, she hurriedly taps on my phone with frantic fingers then shoves the phone against my chest.
“I have to go,” she exclaims and spins around. But I grab her arm and haul her back against my aching body.
“Not so fast,” I growl, lift my phone and call the number she just programmed into my phone. Her small bag instantly begins vibrating and I nod. “Good girl,” I whisper and my hold on her arn releases, becoming a soft caress as I glide my fingers up her bare arm.
“I have to go,” she repeats, but there’s a reluctance in her voice.
“I’ll call you later,” I promise, watching her soft skin prickle with goosebumps under my touch.
“Okay,” she murmurs, then steps away, smoothing her gown down. Before she can disappear, I lay my hand on her back, trail my fingers down her spine and dip them into her dress. I squeeze her bare ass, lean down and rasp, “And you’d better answer.”
She’s breathing hard again and her eyes briefly flutter closed. “I will,” she says.
“Promise me.” I know I’m acting like a crazy person, more possessive than I’ve ever been in my life, but I can’t lose her again.
Absolutely refuse. Two months without Trish’s sweetness was unbearable and she’s not getting away again.
Not now, not ever.
My index finger dips, touching her most intimate place, and she lets out a soft cry. Yeah, she’s wet. Fucking soaked, I think with a touch a arrogance.
“I-I promise.”
I have no choice but to trust her. so I pull my hand out of her dress, lean down and press a kiss to her bare shoulder. “Until later tonight then.”
Without another word, Trish hurries forward, heels clicking along the marble floor. The further she moves away from me, the more I hate it. Every atom inside my body yearns to chase after her, grab hold of her, toss her over my shoulder and walk out the front door.
It takes all of my self-control to restrain myself from doing that, though, and causing a major scene.
Whether she knows it or not, that woman has me wrapped around her little finger like no one has ever managed to do before. It’s why I call her mia cara, an Italian romantic endearment which means love.
Of course, it’s crazy to think I’m actually in love with her.
Especially after only one night.
Utterly preposterous. Yet, my heart is having a totally different opinion about the situation than my brain.
Same with my dick. It is so fucking in love with her.
With a shake of my head, I adjust the heaviness in my pants and turn toward the exit. I’m curious why she ran off so fast and I start walking after her. But by the time I reach the main room where the event is in full swing, I don’t see her anywhere.
Moving around a group of chatting guests, I’m scanning the sea of people, searching for my woman in red, when my gaze lands on Matthias Volkanov.
Fuck.
Squeezing my hands into fists, I force my feet to stay rooted right where they are.
Now is not the time to cause a scene. Even though everything in me wants to march over and beat his sorry ass into the ground for giving the order to kill my father.
But there are too many witnesses, and I don’t need to spend the night in jail for assault. Or worse, manslaughter.
Because the temptation to kill the man has me seeing red.
Ever since I stepped up and started running the family organization, the dark side I’ve always kept contained has erupted. Doing bad things, hurting people… trying to ignore the guilt that’s eating away at me.
I can’t pretend it’s as hard as it was in the beginning. Because it’s not. It’s easier and I’m slowly feeling less and less guilt as I make more and more decisions.
Decisions that I know are hurting people.
I can feel myself becoming a monster, losing myself to the darkness. Exactly like my father.
Yet when I’m around Trish, she guides me back to the light. I don’t feel those dark urges and the heaviness that weighs down on my soul lessens. She’s a light and I’m drawn to her goodness. It’s like she’s the only one who can help me exorcize these demons that are slowly taking over.
Fighting the temptation to stalk over and face Volkanov takes an inordinate amount of strength and I force myself to turn around. Instead of taking my frustration out on my enemy, I head straight for the exit, knowing I need to put as much distance between myself and that man as soon as possible.
Before I do something that I’ll regret. So instead of a fight, I give the valet my ticket, shove my hands into my pockets and wait for him to bring my Mercedes around.
Once he’s back, I tip him, slide into the driver’s seat and head toward St. Alphonsus Hospital.
My dad slipped into a coma last week and I’d rather spend time with him than beating up Matthias Volkanov. For all I know, Giovanni, his oldest son, might be at the museum, too. And then I might end up getting my ass kicked and I’m really not in the mood for that right now. I’d much rather spend time with my old man and then call Trish afterward.
Maybe he’s right and I am too soft to take over the family business.
With a frustrated sigh, I run my hand through my hair. If I’m being honest with myself, I want no part in any of it. The drama between our families, the constant fighting and always being in direct competition with one another is exhausting. I’d much rather whisk Trish away to some tropical island and spend the next two weeks alone together, getting to know her better, laying on the beach and making love to her all night long.
At least I found her again. We might not be able to run off to a beach quite yet, but I do plan to get to know her better.
Starting later tonight.