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)
It wasn’t just scary.
It was alarming. It was distressing. It was absolutely terrifying. And Connor reacted badly. But he was trying to make up for it.
The question was, did I think involving myself with him was worth the risk?
I wasn’t sure how long passed when I uttered, “Connor?”
His voice was small. “Yeah, baby?”
“Are you hungry?”
He blinked, momentarily confused. His eyes searched and searched until finally, he spoke. “I’m always hungry for you.”
My smile was slight. “C’mon.”
Connor stood so quickly I knew he wasn’t about to give me a chance to change my mind. In a heartbeat, he was around the table and his arm was around my waist. We walked out of the conference room and he asked, “Does this mean…?”
Before he could get the question out, I stated a firm, “No.”
“Okay. All right. Relax, baby.” The Connor I had grown to love appeared by my side and, praised be, that treasured signature grin emerged. “Hey, Emmy.” He pressed his lips to the shell of my ear and whispered, “Wanna make out?”
I should’ve known it was coming.
It must have shocked the shit out of him when I responded, “Only if you’re good.”
Because for the first time since I met him, Connor Clash was rendered completely speechless.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Open Arms.
Emmy
Lunch lasted as long as we could drag it out. The conversation rarely waned and even when it did, neither of us made the move to stand and end it. It seemed we didn’t want to leave each other.
What a pair we were.
We continuously brushed fingertips and spoke in low tones, forcing the other person to lean in when the other talked. Connor sat far too close to me and when his knee touched mine, my heart stuttered.
That meant something. Didn’t it?
If this man could make me feel the way he did with a simple glance of his knee, it meant something. It had to. I hadn’t been surer of anything in my life.
When Connor checked his watch, my gut sank.
“Time to go?” I tried not to sound as miserable as I felt.
His eyes met mine and he sighed. “Yeah.” But then he said, “You caught a cab?” At my slow nod, he brightened. “Let me take you home instead.”
Don’t do it. Not a good idea. “Okay.”
My brain rolled its eyes then slapped a hand to its forehead.
My heart fist-pumped.
We exited the restaurant and Connor slid his arm around my shoulders. As we walked, I felt his eyes on me. I twisted to face him and found him smiling down at me.
My boobs tingled. What was that about? “Connor, watch where you’re walking.”
He pulled me deeper into his side and bit the tip of his tongue, moving to speak directly into my ear. “Now why would I want to do that when I’m standing next to a work of art?”
“Oh my God.” I laughed, turning my head away, and I hated myself for blushing.
When I peered up at him a second time, a look of complete tenderness had overtaken him, and he gazed down at my lips. “Kiss me, baby.”
I shook my head but burrowed deeper into him, placing a gentle hand to his chest. We walked another short while before he uttered, “I get it. We’re not there yet.” He waited a bit. “But we will be.”
Connor’s loving kiss to my brow would be my ruin.
Finally, we arrived at his gigantic truck. I remember he’d once told me about it. It was his pride and joy. The black Mercedes-Benz G-Class was one of the first things Connor had bought with his first big paycheck.
When I approached the passenger side, Connor materialized behind me and I watched curiously as he opened the door for me. I looked down at the step. It was pretty high up. Well, for me it was, and when I frowned down at it, Connor let out an amused, “Do you need a boost?”
Serves me right for wanting to look cute for him. The skintight pencil skirt I wore had no give and unless I wanted to split the seam, I needed help. My lips thinned and I spoke quietly. “Actually, yes.”
With a sly grin, Connor scooped me up and I snaked an arm around his shoulders, placing my foot onto the step. He lifted me as if I weighed nothing at all and it made me feel small, looked after and loved, especially when he leaned over me and buckled me in.
We drove in silence and when we stopped at a set of traffic lights, he reached over and set his hand on my thigh. He seemed to do it reflexively so I didn’t protest but I was hyperaware of his fingers being a material length away from my suddenly clenched core.
When we drove past my turn off, I looked over and blinked. “You missed it.”
“Missed what?” he uttered clinically.