Connor’s features sagged with a look that made her stomach burn.
“Don’t cry, baby, I never wanted to make you cry,” he croaked.
“Well you have. Why would you do this?”
He grimaced, pressing his lips together as if speaking would split his tongue. “It was that night—with the earthquake—when you panicked. I didn’t want to see you get to that point again.”
He reached for her, wrapped his fingers around the tops of her arms and this time she couldn’t pull away.
“Do you know what it did to me to see you like that, so scared?” His breath rushed in and out, as if he’d been running. “You’re managing a mutinous ship, the situation with your dad, getting attacked—it’s too much to carry alone. I wanted to take some of the load.”
She closed her eyes and shook her head. More tears streamed. She couldn’t stop them. He was right, it was too much but he didn’t get why his actions made her so angry. She needed someone to share the burden, not take it away.
“I worry about you. Not just about your safety. I worry when you’re stressed. I worry when you’re unhappy.”
His words leveled her world.
Her eyes snapped open and she saw him—saw him in a way that would stay with her forever.
“I fucking worry about you not eating breakfast. I worry about every damn little thing about you. I worry about you like I’ve never worried about anything in my life. Because I care. I fucking care, Charlize. I care so much it makes me scared. I don’t think you’re incapable of looking after yourself—I just can’t help needing to make everything okay.”
He rubbed her arms, her skin burned beneath his touch. Silence radiated between them. He held his chest high and tight, as if he was holding his breath. Hers heaved.
We’re both fucked.
She reached for him, curled her fingers into his tank, not knowing what to do, what to say. Wondered how everything could feel so damn right yet magnificently wrong. She could think of only one thing to do, one thing that could say what words could not. She slammed her chest against his, pulled his neck toward her and kissed him.
She sank her tongue into his mouth, held the back of his head and kissed him with every bit of need, every inch of sorrow—every ounce of desperate, defeated yearning she possessed. And it still wasn’t enough.
Until he kissed her back.
His control broke like a dam bursting through concrete. He wrapped his arms around her and crushed her into him hard enough to hurt, hard enough for her ribs to feel the pinch. Their teeth clashed, once, twice but they couldn’t stop. Couldn’t gentle their passion. But that passion didn’t cure anything. Kissing, clutching, squeezing didn’t ease the pain inside her chest.
Connor lifted her against him and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He pressed her back against the wall. Their lips grew hungrier, mouths opened wider, their tongues plunged deeper, became more frantic.
She reached between them and pushed her hand into his shorts, grasped him urgently, tugged his cock closer to where her legs surrounded him. Connor supported her with one arm, grasped the stockings between her thighs and tore them open then pushed her panties aside. She guided his cock toward her but he beat her to her goal, pushed the thick head of his cock between her folds.
He devoured her cry with his mouth and entered her in a swift thrust that rocketed through her—then he fucked her against the wall. The friction stung for an instant but there was no slowing down. Her body adjusted, took him in as he bucked, thrust, pounded her with his cock. She held on, clawed at him with her fingers, kissed him as if he were the only source of oxygen in space.
Desperate, dirty, raw.
Somewhere deep under the crushing ecstasy of his thrusts she knew this wasn’t a healthy way to fuck—like trying to screw your way through someone’s skin. Trying to hold on to something so mindlessly that you lose yourself. That you sink and drown. But they were both lost, neither one themselves. Both holding on so tightly, with hands, mouths and bodies.
Every touch on her skin, every stroke inside her became amplified by her rushing pulse, by the naked emotion swamping her. She shattered with a pulsing orgasm, dug her nails into his shoulders and cried into his mouth. He squeezed her ass in his hands and delivered his most punishing thrusts, deep enough to hit her limits. His tongue moved in her mouth and his body jerked. Her back batted against the wall. He spurted hot and deep inside her, filled her with warmth, with peace.
He twitched, circled his hips against her. One hand moved to her face, smoothed hair back from her cheeks. His kisses slowed but didn’t stop. She stroked his shoulders, not wanting this to end, not wanting real life to intrude.