CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Raina
W e arrive at a women’s clothing store in SOHO and glide into a spot Blade hustled out front.
Connor steps out of the pickup like he owns the street.
Not wearing a suit, like his guards, he still looks stunning in dress slacks, a white button-down shirt, and a light gray jacket.
His impossibly broad frame moves with quiet precision.
Those storm-blue eyes lock on me, and I shudder at the possession in his gaze.
He should be out on the streets, hunting enemies for the empire. Instead, he won’t leave my side. Not after what happened to me this morning, and not after hearing how Tahiri’s men retaliated so quickly.
There’s no escaping this war that now rests on my shoulders. But Connor won’t hide me. Or keep me tied down. We’re out shopping to make sure I have the right fucking shoes to meet his mother.
Christ, that unravels me more than any threat ever could.
With Blade staying outside the store to watch the truck, Connor and I go inside, hand in hand. He marches right up to the sales counter and takes off his shades.
“Good afternoon,” he says smoothly while pouring on the accent.
The woman does a double-take, he’s so gorgeous. “Can, can I help you?”
“Shea-Lynne Quinlan sent me. Said you’d clear out your store for me. My woman needs clothes. We’ll be here a while.”
The woman eyes my cargo pants with a tank top under one of Connor’s jackets and nods in agreement .
My cheeks heat up. I never thought he’d ask the owner to kick everyone out. How embarrassing.
But the owner salivates. I can’t tell if she’s picturing Connor on top of her or the sales score she’ll make today.
I keep my head held high to show I’m not some spoiled kept woman. “I just need enough stuff to—”
“Stuff?” she says, all Miranda-Priestly-psycho on me.
“We’ll get you taken care of, baby.” Connor kisses my nose.
Apparently, I can’t pick out clothes on my own.
Ten minutes later, I have a dressing room all to myself, and it’s pure chaos. Miranda and Connor are competing to load racks of items for me to try on.
“I only need a few days’ worth and a dress,” I say, peeking out of a dressing room wearing only my bra and panties.
“Start with these.” Miranda brings an entire rack into the changing area.
Connor fists the rack and narrows his eyes at her. “Thanks. Can we be alone?”
She glances at him and then back at me, not seeing it. Not seeing what a man like that sees in me. Maybe if she saw him shirtless with someone’s blood on his chest, she’d have a different opinion of who’s out of whose league.
“Fine,” she gives in. “I’ll be at the sales counter if you have any questions.”
“Keep your doors locked.” Connor takes out his wallet and hands her his credit card. “The men in suits in front of the store are with me.”
“Yes, sir.” She takes the card and slithers away.
Staring at the rack, panic seizes me. “I know I need to do this. Start fresh with some new clothes because I have a different life now, but it’s overwhelming. I can’t put an entire wardrobe together in a day, Connor.”
He pinches his dimpled chin. “Okay. Let’s take it one week at a time.”
My head falls back, and I groan at the idea of shopping again in a week. Running my fingers across the rack Miranda brought in, I’m impressed at the variety of clothes to get me started.
Everything is simple. But very elegant and holy-fucking-shit expensive.
I grip a light sweater perfect for the upcoming fall, and when I get over how soft it is, I hold up the price tag. “Seven hundred dollars? For a sweater?”
“That’s it?” He takes it and shrugs. “I thought it would be more.”
What Kardashian planet is he living on?
I try the sweater with a pair of jeans, startled to find out I’m a size four and not a ten. But I think that’s vanity sizing, and I won’t let it go to my head. This is how they keep women coming back to their stores with these ego-boosting sizes. I’m down with that.
Three different pairs of jeans, five sweaters, two velour tracksuits, and a few cute tees later, Connor stands there with a green dress.
“This will look amazing on you. It matches your eyes, and it will be perfect for Sunday.” He closes the dressing room door and stays inside with me this time. “Problem, Venom?”
“You’ve seen all of me. But getting dressed is like watching sausage get made.” And looking at how tight this dress will fit, that’s the show he’s going to get.
“I love sausage. And a good barbeque brat.” He presses two fingers against his lips.
“And now I’m hungry again.” I step into the dress, loving Connor’s warm hand on my waist.
When I stare at myself, I have mixed feelings. The dress is stunning, V-neck, three-quarter sleeves, pinched at the waist to hide sins, and an asymmetrical hemline .
“It’s too tight.” I scowl, pulling at the fabric that is strangling my hips.
“I like it tight, if you haven’t noticed.” Connor leans against the fitting room wall, arms crossed, looking smug as hell. “It fits perfectly. Like how you fit me, Venom.”
With his height and rugby player build, I’m small compared to him.
He inches forward, hands skimming my hips. “Now take it off. I need to see your body. This is torture.”
I manage to get the dress off and do a curtsy. “Happy?”
That’s when he pounces. “I can’t believe you fell for that.”
I huff, ready to argue, but his mouth crashes against mine before I get the chance. And I just melt. Completely, utterly, absolutely.
My hands tangle in his hair, his fingers digging into my ass as he backs me up against the mirror.
“Speaking of brats...” He lifts me and leans me against the cool mirrored surface that shocks my bare, heated skin. “God, I have to get one of these at home so I can watch as I fuck you.”
“Stop.” I wiggle to get out of his arms. “We can’t.”
“I can do whatever the hell I want, Venom.” He shreds my panties with one fist.
“You’re lucky those were mine,” I say, and then see stars when his fingers start probing me.
Next, his pants are undone, and we’re fucking like it’s a porno.
“Sir,” the owner knocks, her voice laced with exasperation, “that is not a couple’s dressing room.”
“It is now,” Connor whispers into the hollow of my throat, voice scraped raw from restraint. “Leave us alone, don’t make me tell you twice.”
The woman scoffs and leaves .
I giggle against his mouth. Who is this version of me? “She has your credit card.”
“Good. Let her charge me whatever she wants. I’d pay a million dollars to fuck you like this.”
“You sure know how to flatter a girl.”
“Fuck, you feel so good,” he mutters into my neck. He’s so strong as he lifts me on and off his cock with ease. “You’re so wet for me. Every damn time.”
“Connor,” I whimper. “This is crazy.”
“I’m crazy about you, so you’re right for me.” He grunts and releases inside me.
I come a second later and worry I’ll have an attack all over again. But my breathing stays steady.
Lowering me, Connor is flushed, and he can’t stop kissing me. “I can give you whatever you want, Venom. Don’t shut me out.”
Coming down from the orgasm, all I can say is, “I’m trying, Connor.”
I’m an Albanian weapon. It’s only a matter of time before they figure out I’ve changed sides and will come for the Quinlans.
With everything they have.