Chapter 11
Taylor
New yoga classes started today. You’d think after teaching two of them this morning I’d have a little more inner peace flowing through my chakras but nope.
I’m livid.
Hurt.
Scared.
The only thing that keeps me from completely losing my mind is that Nick texted and said he knows where Conner is and was going to talk with him.
The astronomical amount of jealousy and relief that collided inside me when I read Nick’s text is something I’m still trying to unpack. I’m so glad Conner is safe, but how dare that man keep me, of all people, in the dark and go off grid, but let the guys know where he is.
And Nick wouldn’t tell me where to find him because bro code.
I hate that.
Although we’ve all grown up together—my cousin Carly included—and the way we’ve seen each other at our best and worst, in the end I’m still not one of the guys. Not like I keep insisting I am.
After a hot shower, I put on the kettle and try to pick a tea that will hopefully fix my life.
It’ll probably require something way stronger than chamomile.
As I stir honey into my cup, the distinct sound of Conner’s truck fills my ears.
My stomach twists and relief washes over me as I peek out my front window.
He parks in front of my house. The first thing to hit me is relief. The second thing? Sadness. The strongest thing?
Rage.
He hops out of the truck and stares at the ground as he marches across my lawn. The door’s unlocked so he just walks right in.
“Taylor, I—”
The first plant on my windowsill goes flying at his head. “You asshole!”
I chuck my favorite selenite at him next. He ducks out of the way and shoots a scowl at me. “Stop.”
“Fuck you.” I throw a sofa pillow at him next. Then a book. Anything I can get my hands on until I can’t see because I’m crying and shaking and filled with too many feelings that I think I’m going to shatter.
Conner slowly closes the gap between us and without hesitation I grab his shirt and yank him into me and cling to him. Then I cry and cry and cry because somehow a floodgate has burst inside me, and I don’t know how to put that barrier back together.
“Shh.” He rubs my back and smells like woods and dirt and campfire. “Come on, Taylor. Please don’t cry. I can’t take your tears.”
Trust me, if I could, I would but I can’t.
“Please don’t leave,” I say into his chest.
He lets out a sigh and holds me tighter. But he doesn’t say the words I want to hear. There’s no “I’m not going anywhere” or “don’t be silly” or “it’s not in me to leave.” There’s just silence between us and I cling to him harder because of it.
“Come on now.” He pulls back and his face is bright red. “Stop crying.” Conner wipes my cheeks with his rough hands and swallows hard enough for it to look like it hurts.
“You can’t just up and ghost like that, Con.”
He’s quiet.
“We were worried sick.”
He brings me over to the couch and sits me down. “I just needed space and time to think about things, Taylor. There was no need to worry. I’m a grown man who can take care of himself.”
He’s right. And he doesn’t just take care of himself. He takes care of me and my parents and his friends and anyone else who needs help too. He always puts himself last.
“Did you… are you… okay now?”
He sounds exhausted when he answers, “Not really.”
Silence falls between us and I think he’s come to say goodbye. Like a for real bye. A I’m leaving and never coming back goodbye.
Am I really going to let that happen? Give him what he wants? Can I truly let this man walk away forever if it’ll help him be happy?
Fuck. No.
“I love you,” I say in a rush.
“I love you too, Taylor.”
He doesn’t get it. He’s saying it like we always say it. Like besties.
“Conner, I—”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Yeah. Sure. Anything.” My heart keeps fluttering like a bird in my chest. It makes me feel all floaty.
“Can I kiss you?”
My fluttering heart stops on a dime and falls into my lap. I think I take too long to answer because he’s suddenly moving away from me and has his gaze on the floor again.
Panick-grabbing his shirt and yanking him against me with all my might, I smash my mouth to his. We freeze with our lips fused together and I breathe heavily through my nostrils. This feels… wrong.
Pulling back, I let him go.
Conner gawks at me, his cheeks ruddy and his heart pounds so hard it’s making his t-shirt jump.
“What was that?” he asks.
“What do you mean? I just kissed you. You wanted a kiss.”
“That’s not what I wanted. I wanted to kiss you. Not you kiss me.”
Are we arguing about this?
“We’re going to try this again,” he says, taking my hands and pinning them into my lap. “Can I kiss you?”
Bracing myself, I nod.
He leans into me slowly, as if giving me time to back out or tell him to stop if I want to. I don’t. This is what I’ve wanted for forever.
Conner’s mouth brushes against mine softly, tentatively. It’s weird and foreign and familiar and perfect. Just like I always imagined it would be.
It starts off gentle, but then he pushes a little harder.
I open my mouth a little for him and he deepens the kiss.
His hands let go of mine and he threads one hand around the back of my head.
The other is sliding up my thigh, belly, and winds around my lower back.
His tongue sweeps against mine. The kiss grows and deepens and my body bursts into flames.
I groan and match his energy, threading my hands in his hair.
Scraping his scalp with my nails. Running my fingers down the sides of his throat and gliding them all over his pecs and biceps.
Conner’s grade-A hottie material. Like zero body fat, hard muscles, and smooth skin. It’s ridiculous how good looking he is.
Just when I’m ready to pounce on him and rip his clothes off, he slowly pulls away from me. We’re both breathing heavy and staring at each other.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he growls and then slams his mouth to mine again.
Game. On.
I rip at his clothes, and he breaks away long enough to pull his shirt off and toss it on the floor. Then he’s got me laid back on the couch, settled between my legs and we’re making out like two horny teenagers with the house to ourselves.
“Wait.” He lifts up again.
“No wait. Why wait. Wait for what?”
“I’m gross. I haven’t had a proper shower in a week. Just soap in the stream.”
I do not care. “Shut up and kiss me.”
He pushes off of me and stands, backing away from the couch. “I’m filthy, Taylor.”
Is he for serious right now?
“Come on.” The last thing I want is for this moment to get fucked up. But if he’s worried over his hygiene, I know he’ll fixate on it and feel bad about himself and I’m not going to let that happen. Pulling him into my bathroom, I flick on the shower and pull off my shirt.
“What are you doing?”
“Joining you.” With that, I close the space between us again and kiss him hard.
We grunt and laugh and trip over stuff and get naked and into the shower together.
Conner stands under the spray and looks me dead in the eyes while I instinctively cover my breasts.
It’s cold and he’s hogging all the hot water.
There is so much tension and fear in the air, it makes me extra nervous that maybe he’s having second thoughts.
“Can I look at you?” he asks, surprising me.
Conner must have seen me naked before. I can’t tell you how many times we’ve gone skinny dipping. Not to mention all the times he’s been in my room while I got dressed. So why does this feel like the first time I’ve ever exposed myself?
Slowly dropping my arms, I tip my chin up and let him see every inch of me.
My boobs are small and my butt isn’t that much to look at either. Insecurities creep across my skin and my cheeks heat. Especially when I think back to all the hot girls Conner’s dated before.
“God… dayem,” he growls, tracing a finger across my waist, making my belly flutter. “You’re the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”
Conner’s many things, but he’s not a liar.
“I…am?”
“Yeah, you are. And I’ve waited so long to see you, I’m terrified I’m going to wake up from this dream.” He switches places with me so I’m under the hot spray and then he drops to his knees and looks up at me. “Holy fuck.” Conner sits on his knees and continues to stare up at me like I’m a deity.
I’ve never seen him this… however you want to call what this is. Awestruck? Enthralled? When he puts his hands behind his head and continues to look up at me, a different word comes to mind: Submissive.
Suddenly, a lot of things click into place. Memories rapid fire in my mind and they all align with one thing: Conner’s love language is acts of service. He’ll do anything for anyone he cares about. And there’s nothing he hasn’t done for me except…
“Touch me,” I say, leaning back against the glass wall.
“Where?”
I tap my inner thigh. “Here.”
He presses his knuckles onto the tile and leans in on all fours to kiss me where I told him to. His mouth is hot on my skin, and he scrapes his teeth along the sensitive flesh.
“I didn’t say kiss it.”
“You didn’t specify what part of me to touch you with either.”
OMG, he’s a brat! Surprise, surprise. I think I always knew this about him; I just didn’t allow myself the pleasure of fantasizing about it before. A girl can only handle so much in her dirty mind.
“Can I wash myself now, or should I keep touching you?”
Oh yeah. We’re here for cleanliness not sexiness. I completely forgot. Handing him the soap and fresh wash rag, I suppress a giggle, then leave the shower before my self-control flies out the window.
“Where are you going?” he asks, and there’s no hiding the worry in his voice.
“I’ll be in the bedroom waiting,” I say, so he knows this isn’t over. “Hurry.”
A big smile spreads across his face. “Yes, ma’am.”