"No, you're right. I still don't sleep. What's up?"
She exhaled. It'd been so long since things had been this way that she couldn't remember whose fault it was that they hardly spoke.
"I was just wondering." She touched a little donut. "Do you remember when we used to go to high tea?"
"Charlie … " Her mom's voice went rough. "Of course I remember."
"Do you want to maybe go again sometime?" She straightened. "Maybe on the weekend?"
"Oh … "
And there it was. Now she remembered why things were this way.
"Well, this weekend is Harry's party."
Her mother hadn't just left-she'd had a whole new family, three boys-replaced her completely. And this was how it'd been. In the begging when she'd gone to an effort, there'd always been something.
Something else, more important than her.
"That's right, I have a present here." But this time it was her half-brother's ninth birthday. She didn't realize it was his party this weekend, because she hadn't been invited. "I was going to have it sent over on Monday."
"Why don't you bring it yourself, the party is at lunchtime on Sunday."
Her throat went thick. Even she knew that what was missing here wasn't completely one-sided. Her mom had presented these little olive branches before. They weren't necessarily the branches she'd asked for but they were well-intentioned. She'd refused to take them.
Eventually they'd stopped being extended.
It was too hard in the beginning, to sit across the table from Shane, her stepfather. To try and pretend that his relationship with her Mom hadn't begun with an affair. That he hadn't broken her family and taken her Mom away.
She stared at the box of tiny sweets. Except some things you don't see until you're an adult. Like how miserable Mom had been in her marriage with Dad.
Like how Charlie had ultimately been the one who chose which parent she wanted to live with.
"Okay, can I bring something?"
Her mom's breath released as though she'd been holding on to it for too long. "Just anything you like."
Charlie's gaze flicked to the drawer beside the oven where there were a dozen baking trays she'd bought with secret longings to use, but never had the time. "Alright, see you then."
"Bye, Charlie."
She hung up, and collected the lid of the pastry box. A paper fluttered onto the bench-no a flyer.
Her heart flipped over.
She stared at the writing. How did Connor even find out about this? There was a temptation on this flyer-one only he could've known she'd find irresistible.
***
What the hell was she up to?
He watched her sneak out of her front door close to midnight. She slipped into a waiting taxi.
What was she doing? She'd already been out …
His pulse picked up.
She'd have found his gift. Perhaps she hated it. There was a chance he'd pushed too hard with the flyer. That she'd see it as another confirmation of ulterior motives.
But when he'd found it, it'd been like a sucker-punch from fate.
What were the odds that the business she'd dreamed about would be for sale right now?
He indicated and tailed the taxi.
Tailed it all the way to the familiar building that sent his blood thickening his veins. He parked and followed her inside.
She sat at the bar, taking on a glass of wine like she wanted revenge on it. Someone stepped in beside her. Some schmuck. A hand brushed her shoulder.
Fuck no.
He went to his feet. If she thought for one goddamned instant he'd let her punish him like that, then screw covert, she'd get motherfucking overt-
She turned, brushed off the touch, and shook her head.
He thunked back down in his seat.
His chest hammered. What the hell had this woman done to him?
Sent him out of his mind with possessive need.
He refocused on the bar, then snapped straight. What the fuck? He'd taken his gaze off her for a second and she'd disappeared …
"Hi."
Shit.
She stood beside his table. Her hair swayed around her shoulders. Her vanilla scent reached him. His fists curled. His body braced.
She reached into her top, and drew out a bill. "I'll give you ten dollars if you kiss me right now."
Oh, god help him. He almost threw her down on the dirty bar table for daring to play this game.
For making him remember what it'd first been like to take that sweet mouth of hers.
"Do I look like a gigolo to you, woman?"
"No, I imagine the scowl would be terrible for business." She laughed, the husky sound sinking into him. "But I saw you looking at me, and I really need you to kiss me-right fucking now."
His whole body shuddered. He rose from his chair.
She swallowed, oh yes she did. He grabbed her by the back of the neck. Her warm eyes sparkled-excited and hopefully a little nervous. Good thing she be prepared, because this time the night would not end with only a kiss.
FIFTEEN
The drive home would've been torture, if teasing Connor wasn't such a treat. He'd kissed the sense out of her at the bar, and to be perfectly frank-she'd have finished what they started in the backseat of his car. Except he'd shoved her into the passenger side with a growled warning of what was to come.
The thrumming tension rolling off him was enough to tell her it'd be worth the wait.
She opened her front door, and unlike that first night he drove her home, this time he barged right in. She locked the door, but before she could turn, he had her face-first against the wall. His face buried in her neck. Hands jerking down the straps of her dress. His erection pressing into her ass.
Stripping her bare.
Cracking her desire up and up.
He leaned back, then grabbed her, carrying her swiftly to her room, and set her on the floor.
Then he was against her again. Laying his hard length along her rear. Buttons and fabric gently grazed the skin of her back. He somehow made her almost nakedness infinitely more … naked. He guided her hands up.
An ache tightened in her womb. Thickened her blood. He brought both her hands to her chest. Pressed them right over her heart-her heart, which hammered away under their touch. His cheek rubbed against her temple then his mouth moved down, over her check to her jaw, then to her neck.
She sagged against him, held up by the body behind her and the arms crossed over her chest. He moved his mouth against her skin. Every nerve ending she possessed came awake. Pleasure radiated from his touch.
Her nipples beaded, stood erect and waiting for the touch of the hands clutched above them. Then all she could focus on was the flutter of his lips, the wicked stroke of his tongue, the hard bite of his teeth, the grate of his whiskers-kissing, licking, biting, scraping, tormenting their way from the base of her neck to her ear.
Her eyes were open but she saw nothing. Only white.
Sensory overload.
Drunk on passion and he he'd hardly started touching her.
His fingers left hers and covered her breasts-squeezed and palmed them. Air hissed between her lips and she pushed her hips back, found his hardness waiting for her, ground her backside against it.
Moisture flooded her-moisture and a raw ache.
She needed that hardness in her. And right now she'd take it anyway he gave it to her. His touch traveled down. He pushed his hands between her thighs, rubbed them over her. She moaned, the pressure over her swollen clit shooting sensations deep into her cunt.
"You want me here, Charlie?" He rubbed through her panties with his fingertips.
She grasped the fabric of his pants, pleasure streaking through her. "Yes, I want you inside me now." She lifted herself onto her tiptoes and the stone-hard length of his erection rocked against the crease of her ass.
He groaned and wrapped his arms around her, moving them forward toward the bed-roughly.
Oh yes.
Her pulse pumped in a frenzy and bumps rose on her skin. Connor scooped up her hair and laid it over her shoulder, exposing her back to him. He kissed between her shoulders and ran his hands down her arms. Maybe she stopped breathing because her head spun and all she could feel was his touch on her, running toward her hands, drawing them to the small of her back.
He held her hands in one of his, caught them there in the dip of her spine above her ass while her shoulders twitched and her fingers shook. His clothes rustled. Something smooth and soft and warm circled her wrists.
Her eyes flew open and her hands uncurled. She glanced over her shoulder.
His tie. The tie he only wore today because she'd purchased it for him when they'd been shopping saying it'd bring out his eyes. The fabric was still warm from his neck. He pulled the knot closed and her wrists squeezed together.
Her chest filled with air. Now she'd pay for stoking his thigh the entire way home. Deliberately driving him crazy.
For batting her lashes and asking, "Are you alright, Connor?"
He leaned over her, grasped her chin and kissed her with her back still to him-rough and proprietary. Desire flared in her pussy like a puff of air on an ember. He let go of her chin and stepped forward until her thighs brushed the edge of her bed and the soft quilt caressed her skin.