Stepping out of the shower, I’m wrapping a towel around my wet body when I hear a muffled sound come from my bedroom. It’s late, well after midnight, so I can only assume it’s Lana. But she’s still tired from her trip and has been going to bed earlier than usual.
I walk over to the door, open it up and step into my dimly-lit bedroom. A man sits in the chair in the shadows and I gasp, on the verge of running back into the bathroom and locking the door, when I hear his low voice say, “Hello, Trisha.”
It’s Connor and my rapidly-beating heart slows down slightly. “How did you get in here?” I ask. “You scared me half to death,”
He doesn’t answer, just lazily motions toward the open window. “I’m guessing the same way you always get out.”
There’s a funny tone to his voice, one I’ve never heard before, and it suddenly occurs to me that he called me Trisha. Not Trish. Oh, no. And since he’s in my bedroom, he clearly knows who I am.
And that means he knows who my family is and I swallow hard.
“Anything you want to tell me?” he asks, leaning forward and clasping his hands between his spread thighs.
God, yes, so much, I want to say. Instead, I clutch my towel tighter and lift my chin. “I think you’ve figured it out since you’re sitting here in my family’s home.”
He arches a dark, thick brow and his blue eyes flash in the lamplight. “When did you know?”” he asks, voice full of accusation.
I don’t say anything.
“How long have you known who I am?” he snaps and stands up, quickly closing the distance between us. All of his cool nonchalance is gone and now he resembles an angry panther, ready to pounce on its prey.
I take a step back, eyes widening, and suddenly don’t recognize the man in front of me. My hand drops to protectively cover my stomach and he doesn’t seem to notice. Or, if he does, he pays no attention to the move. Instead, he trails a finger along the edge of the towel, right above my breasts.
“I asked you a question, a ghra, and I expect an honest answer. No more lies.”
The way he says the Irish term of endearment is nasty and sarcastic. It makes my heart hurt.
Where is the man I was falling for? Who is this angry stranger?
“I never lied to you,” I whisper.
“Bullshit!”
Tears prick the backs of my eyes. Yes, it’s true, my name is Trisha Volkanov, but everyone calls me Trish. I never set out to deceive you. When we met that night in the pub, I had no idea who you were. I just knew that I felt a spark, a connection, and I wanted to get to know you better.”
His face looks like it’s carved from stone, and I don’t understand why he’s so angry with me.
“You suddenly hate me because of my last name?” I ask, frowning, a tear slipping down my cheek. “I thought you were a better person than that, Connor.”
Connor reaches out and grabs my chin, tilting my face up. His fingers dig into my skin as he says, “Save your fake tears. Now tell me when you discovered who I was – that my real name is Connor Mennetti.”
Forced to look up into his stormy cobalt eyes, I say, “The day after our night together, my brother told me about your dad getting shot. Gio said you blamed our family and had declared war on us. I looked your father up online and pictures of your family came up… and pictures of you. I was shocked.”
He doesn’t comment, but he releases my chin and clenches his hands into fists.
“Gio told me you’d caught Antonio and tortured him. Someone cut off his finger. Just like yours.”
A rage I’ve never seen before darkens his face. “Did that upset you? Finding out someone mangled the man you love?”
“What?” A muscle flexes in his jaw. “I don’t love Antonio.”
“Don’t lie to me!” he yells.
“Shh!” I hiss. “Lower your voice or someone is going to come.”
“He’s your fucking fiance. I saw the goddamn wedding announcement, so don’t insult me.”
Oh, God. My shoulders sag and I shake my head as things begin snapping into place. “Connor, no. You don’t understand. My father is forcing me to marry Antonio. But I’ve never cared for him. He’s cold and cruel, but…” I let out a resigned sigh. “There’s nothing I can do.”
When he doesn’t say anything, I lay a hand on his chest.
“I’m trapped. Forced to marry a man I don’t love while I’m pining for another.” His blue eyes narrow. “I’m falling for you, Connor. If you believe nothing else, believe this – you’re the man I want to be with, the one who has my heart.”
His nostrils flare and I can’t tell if he believes me or not, but then he reaches up and lays his hand over mine. “You don’t love Antonio Dombruso?” he asks, still not fully comprehending what I’m saying. “You didn’t betray me?”
“No,” I insist. “Antonio is a monster who enjoys hurting people.”
“So don’t marry him,” he says simply, dropping his hand.
My hand falls away from his chest. “If only it were that easy.”
“It is that easy. You say no.”
“My father would disown me. Toss me out on the street,” I tell him with a harsh laugh.
“What if you had somewhere to go? Someone to take care of you?”
My mouth opens in surprise.
“Our families would never allow us to be together. They hate each other.”
“That’s their problem.”
“Ours is a doomed love affair Like Romeo and Juliette,” I add sadly.
“Fuck that. If you marry a man you don’t love, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life. Even if you don’t choose me, choose yourself, Trish. Don’t let your father steamroll you.” Clarity dawns and seems to brighten his dark blue eyes. “Is that why you chose me that night?”
My eyes slide shut and I nod. “Because Antonio didn’t deserve my virginity. I wanted to give it to someone of my own choosing. Not my father’s.”
“The night at the museum, you knew exactly who I was. That’s why you ran,” he muses, the pieces coming together for him now, too.
“I’m sorry. I was scared my father would see us together and I couldn’t let that happen.”
“So, you do everything your father tells you to do? You let him run your life?”
“Don’t you?” I snap. “Haven’t you stepped into your fathers’ shoes since he’s been in a coma and unable to run your family’s business?”
“It’s my job as the oldest son,” he informs me stiffly.
“Then don’t you dare be a hypocrite when it’s my duty as the oldest daughter to marry according to his choosing.” He’s frustrating the hell out of me, and I cross my arms, getting
defensive. How can he not see that we’re in a similar boat, struggling to stay afloat?
“It’s not the same,” he tells me.
“Yes, it is,” I insist.
“No, it’s fucking not,” he growls and grabs me, lightly shaking me.
“Let me go,” I hiss.
Instead of letting me go, he slams his mouth against mine, claiming me and marking me as his. His tongue forces its way between my lips and delves deep. I twist against his iron grip for a
moment then stop struggling and simply melt against him. As frustrated as I am with our situation, I’m feeling things for Connor that I’ve never felt for another man.
Feelings that I just can’t turn off no matter how much easier it would make my life.
We devour each other for a long moment then rip apart, both panting and slightly desperate.
His heated blue gaze dips. Then he reaches a handout and yanks the towel off my damp body.
“Get on the bed, he growls, tossing the towel to the floor. I swallow hard, caught off-guard by the sudden movement and the ferocity in his eyes, but I’ve never been so turned on in my life.
Instead of arguing or covering myself, I do as he says. Climbing onto the bed and then scooting back, I lay against the pile of pillows and watch as he removes a gun from the back of his pants, sets it on the nightstand and quickly undresses. I’m not surprised to see the weapon and I watch him remove his clothes.
Hot anticipation sears through my body and has me squeezing my thighs together.
I’m so ready for him and there’s a feral look in his bright blue eyes that wasn’t there before. A look that’s making me excited, but also a little nervous. Once he’s standing at the end of my bed, completely naked, my gaze slides down his lean, muscled body and pauses on his thick, jutting cock.
“Turn over,” he orders, voice low and barely controlled.
“Connor – ”
“Onto your stomach. Now.”
Biting my lower lip, I slowly roll over onto my stomach and then turn to look over my shoulder. Connor pounces, covering my body with his, and his skin feels like it’s on fire. I turn my face, laying my cheek against the pillow, and feel his muscled thigh move between my legs, forcing them further apart. He starts kissing up my spine and a shiver runs through my body.
The last time we did this, he took his time and moved slowly.
Extremely gently. But that’s all gone, and I can feel the rough urgency in his touches and kisses.
He’s not going to be slow or gentle this time around and that thought arouses me. Makes me lift my ass higher and push it up, welcoming it, wanting it deeper, and he thrusts another finger inside.
“Do you let Antonio do this to you?” he rasps.
My movements freeze and I swallow hard. “No,” I whisper raggedly. “He’s never touched me.”
“Do you swear?” He twists his fingers, plunging them deeper, scissoring them and stretching me.
“Ohh, God,” I moan.
“Do you swear, Trish?” He abruptly pulls his fingers out when I don’t respond because I can’t find my voice. I slump forward, my cheek unceremoniously hitting the mattress.
“Yes, I swear.”
A rough sound rumbles out of his throat, and he hikes my ass back up, fingers digging into my hips, gripping them hard, not being gentle. I feel the head of his weeping cock part my slit and my wet heat covers it. As he pushes inside, stretching me like I’ve
never been stretched before, I bury my face in the bedspread to muffle the sounds I’m making.
For the briefest moment, he pauses ever so slightly. Then he slams all the way into me, and I cry out, curling my fingers into the covers.
Yes, the slow, gentle Connor is gone and in his place is a big lion ready to mate with his partner.
Breathing hard, I take a moment to adjust to this new position, and then I slam back against his hips, letting him know I’m ready.
Ready for whatever he is going to give me.