Chapter 28 #2
He pressed a soft, open-mouthed kiss to my inner thigh, then another higher, eyes never leaving mine.
“Those weren’t men, baby,” he said, low and certain, the words vibrating against my skin.
“They were boys playing at pleasure. A real man knows heaven is right here—” his tongue traced a slow, deliberate circle around my clit, drawing a shuddering gasp from me—“and he gets on his knees to worship it every chance he gets.”
My heart cracked open at the reverence in his voice, the absolute conviction. No shame. No hesitation.
He groaned against me, the sound primal, unfiltered. “You have no idea how much I love this. Feeling you get wetter on my tongue, hearing those little sounds you try to hold back … it’s better than anything else in the world.”
Then his mouth was on me again, devoted and insatiable, licking deeper, slower, like he was memorizing every sigh, every tremor.
One hand steadied my hip; the other slipped two fingers inside me, curling softly, stroking in perfect rhythm with his tongue. I moaned quietly, fingers threading through his soaked hair, anchoring myself to him as pleasure built in soft, rolling waves.
It wasn’t frantic morning sex—it was a gift, a quiet claiming, a reminder that we belonged to each other now.
He brought me to the edge with devastating patience, watching my face, adjusting to every hitch of breath, every tremble. When I came, it was deep, my body shuddering against his mouth as he held me through it, lips never leaving me until the last pulse faded.
He rose slowly, water cascading off him, and I pulled him into a kiss, tasting myself on his tongue. His erection pressed hot against my stomach, and I reached between us, stroking him once, twice.
“Now, you,” I whispered.
He smiled against my mouth, then turned me to face the wall. I braced my palms on the tile, arching back as he slid into me from behind in one slow, perfect thrust.
We both sighed.
He moved with long, deep strokes, one arm banded across my chest, hand splayed over my heart; the other low on my belly, holding me close.
Water rained softly around us, slicking every glide.
I pushed back to meet him, savoring the fullness, the intimacy of him filling me while the world waited just beyond the glass.
“I’ll be thinking about this all day,” he said against my ear, voice rough. “About being inside you again tonight.”
The words unraveled him. His thrusts deepened, pace quickening just enough to chase his own release without losing the tenderness. I felt him swell, felt the moment he let go—hips pressed flush to mine, a low groan against my neck as he came hard, pulsing deep inside.
We stayed like that for a long moment, breathing together, water cooling on our skin. Then he pulled out gently and turned me for one last slow kiss—soft, lingering, full of quiet promise.
“We really should get out now,” he said, a smile in his voice.
I laughed, resting my forehead against his chest. “Yeah. We should.”
By the time we stepped back into the bedroom, wrapped in towels and warm from steam, the world felt close enough to reenter.
There was a soft knock at the door.
Connor and I both turned toward it, the sound measured and deliberate. Connor shifted, tightening his towel, and crossed the room to open it.
Ellsworth stood in the corridor, composed as ever. He didn’t step inside until Connor nodded once, granting entry.
“Good morning,” Ellsworth said calmly as he moved just far enough in to place a neatly arranged set of clothing and a small kit of toiletries on the chair by the window. Everything about it was thoughtful. Precise. As if my comfort had been accounted for long before I ever thought to ask.
“Morning,” Connor replied, inclining his head. “Ellsworth.”
Ellsworth’s gaze flicked briefly to me before returning to Connor, his presence efficient without ever feeling intrusive.
I felt a flicker of self-consciousness, but Ellsworth’s gaze was respectful, neutral. As if this—this version of Connor, this version of me—fit neatly into his understanding of how things worked.
“I’ve arranged clothing and essentials for you, Miss,” he said, gesturing toward the chair. “Should you wish to return to the residency today.”
I stepped closer, fingers brushing the soft sweater folded on top. It felt like being quietly taken care of without being handled.
“Thank you,” I said.
“Of course.”
Connor’s attention had already sharpened. “Status.”
Ellsworth straightened slightly. “Protection is now in place for Miss Zee. Discreet. Continuous. Her colleagues will not be aware.”
My shoulders eased at that—not because the danger vanished, but because it had been addressed without asking me to shrink my life around it.
“She may return to the residency whenever she’s ready,” Ellsworth continued. “Your attention, however, is required today.”
Connor exhaled slowly. “I figured.”
The moment stretched. I didn’t like the idea of leaving him—not with everything unfolding, not with the echoes of his past still close—but I also felt something else stirring beneath the hesitation.
Readiness.
The desire to take my work back into the world not as a refuge, but as an offering.
When Ellsworth left, I dressed slowly, aware of Connor watching me. Like he was imprinting the image of me moving through his space in daylight. Belonging there without having to prove it.
When I reached for my camera, he nodded once, approving without comment.
“I don’t like leaving you,” I admitted quietly.
Connor crossed the room and rested his forehead against mine. “You’re not leaving,” he said. “You’re expanding.”
I smiled at that. “I want my work seen. Really seen. élodie keeps saying I should submit somewhere, but I wasn’t ready before. I think … I am now.”
Connor’s hand slid into mine, grounding. Pride flickered across his face.
At the door, he stopped me with a light touch to my wrist.
“Come back,” he said quietly.
“I will,” I promised. “After I’m done.”
He kissed me then. A kiss that felt like punctuation.
As I stepped into the corridor, I felt it immediately—the subtle shift in atmosphere. Movement at the edges. Protection that didn’t announce itself.
Discreet.
Effective.
The certainty I’d be safe.
I adjusted the strap of my camera, breathing deeply, and headed toward the exit.
Paris waited for me.
I glanced back once, just to feel the pull.
Then I kept going.