Chapter 20
TWENTY
DAISY
The front door slams shut behind me, echoing in the quiet apartment. I expected him to have me stripped halfway naked by now, but instead, he takes his time unbuttoning his coat and untying his shoelaces.
He moves through the apartment, and I follow close behind, trying to figure out what happened and how we went from frantic kissing in the back of the taxi to this loaded silence in the dark.
“Are you hungry?” he asks, tossing his keys on the kitchen counter. I hesitate behind him, and he finally turns to look at me when I don’t answer. “I could cook something.”
I arch a brow. “You’re offering me food?”
I’m pretty sure that’s not the reason he took me home.
At least, it’s not the reason I asked him to, but now that he’s looking at me with so much space between us, I’m thinking maybe I had it all wrong.
Because of course guys who look like Connor probably go around handing out lethal kisses to any girl they meet. It doesn’t have to mean anything.
He shuffles on his feet, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck as his eyes flicker around the room, before finally settling on me. “I thought it might be a nice out.”
My heart beats in the back of my throat. He wants an out.
“It’s okay, you don’t have to offer me pity food.” I wince at the sound of my own voice, too high-pitched and breathy.
He furrows his brow, looking confused for a second.
Then realization seems to dawn on him. The floorboards creak under his weight when he closes the space between us.
With a gentle touch, he nudges my chin up until I’m looking at him, just like he did back at the bar, but this time it’s missing the heat.
“I meant an out for you, Daisy. Not me.”
I inhale sharply, feeling my heart flutter back down to where it belongs.
Because for as many times as I’ve been in a similar situation with guys—all of which I could probably count on one hand—I don’t think any of them have ever given me the option to walk away.
To change my mind. The way he watches me so patiently, waiting for my answer, has heat blooming in my chest.
“I don’t want food,” I tell him, and he cups my cheek, fingers slowly caressing the skin there. I take a tentative step toward him, closing the distance between us, and his fingers flex against my cheek.
“Are you sure?”
I slide one hand up over his shoulder, watching how his muscle ripples under my touch. It makes me want to do it again.
When I glance up, he’s watching me with an intensity I haven’t seen before.
I shift closer, leaning into his touch. His other hand comes to a rest on my hip, right where the hem of my top meets my jeans.
One of his fingers slides under the hem, touching bare skin and making me shiver. I nod, my eyes on his lips.
He inhales sharply, his hand spreading wide on my waist, fingers digging into soft flesh and making me tremble. “I need you to say it, because as much as I want this to happen, there’s no way I’m going there if you’re going to regret it tomorrow.”
I swallow deeply. Every little piece of me feels alive under his touch in a way I’ve never experienced before. And the way he’s looking at me right now makes me feel so seen. I want to revel in it. “I want this.”
He gives me a second to take the words back. When I don’t, his lips sweep down, claiming mine in a searing kiss. Then he’s walking me backward until my back is against the wall, his hips pressing against me.
It’s intoxicating, his touch alone making my head spin.
Connor’s lips leave mine and I groan my discontent, until he starts to trail a line of kisses across my jaw and down my neck.
When his tongue comes out to swipe across the sensitive spot beneath my ear, the rest of the world falls away and I forget why I was ever hiding from this in the first place.
“You like that?” His voice is husky against my skin. I moan—it’s the only possible sound I can make right now. How on earth did this man turn me into a breathless, speechless puddle in a matter of minutes? “You want more?”
I frantically nod, desperate for him to touch me again.
“Words, Daisy.” He chuckles.
“Please,” I beg. I don’t even care that he’s teasing me, as long as he keeps touching me.
“Good girl,” he whispers against my neck, and I could just about crumble at the sound of those words coming from him. His lips find mine again, and he tugs at my hips until we’re moving again, this time in the direction of his bedroom.
He doesn’t break our kiss while he maneuvers me down the hallway with an expertise I don’t want to dissect. He fumbles for the handle on his bedroom door, then the door swings open and he’s backing me in.
His mattress digs into the backs of my thighs and we both tumble over, his hands landing on either side of my face.
I nip at his lip, my hands in his hair tugging him closer. He comes willingly, his tongue twisting with mine, before he breaks away to trail a line of kisses down my neck. He follows the neckline on my top across my chest, avoiding the places I want him the most.
My fingers twine in his hair, trying to direct him to where I need him to go.
He chuckles and I feel it against my skin.
Then his fingers are grazing over the skin at my stomach, slipping under the hem of my shirt, and I don’t know where to focus anymore.
I help him get it all the way off and he flings it somewhere behind him.
I’m a mess but I couldn’t care less. My frantic hands twist in his shirt, trying to pull it off but not making much progress, until he grabs the back of it and pulls it up over his head in one fluid motion.
Tossing it in the same direction mine went, he bends down to steal another kiss, and I feel him everywhere, his warm skin against mine.
The thin silver chain he always wears around his neck traces against my collarbone, making me shiver.
He kisses me while his hands roam over every inch of exposed skin. His fingers brush against the waistband of my jeans, the pad of his thumb dipping in to gently trace the skin just below it. I shiver.
“Can I?” he asks, his eyes on mine.
I writhe under his touch. I think I might be addicted to it, and the thought of having more is almost enough to send me over the edge. “Yes.”
He flicks the button on my jeans and I nearly combust when he lowers himself between my thighs and uses his teeth to pull the zipper down. I groan.
What the actual hell. No one has any business being this hot.
With my jeans undone, he gently rolls them down over my hips, tugging until the only thing shielding me is the plain bra and panty set I put on this morning.
If I had known this night would end with him kneeling between my legs, I might have considered putting on one of the lacy sets Willa insisted I bring.
Connor groans, his eyes roaming everywhere, as if he’s not quite sure what to focus on first, and I think maybe I don’t need the lace after all. Then his eyes find mine and his hands are back on either side of my face. He stares down at me. “You’re too perfect.”
I flush at his compliment—no one has ever called me perfect before.
He drops another kiss on my lips before he takes up his exploration again, trailing kisses across every inch of my exposed skin.
My hands find his hair again, trying to hold on to whatever piece of sanity I have left.
I’m so out of it, I don’t realize where he’s headed until he’s pressing kisses against my hip bone, his fingers dipping into the waistband of my underwear.
“You don’t have to do that,” I stutter, trying to push myself up on my elbows, not sure if I’m about to scurry away or pull him closer.
He glances up at me, his chin resting on the soft skin right below my belly button. “You don’t want me to?”
I shake my head, and I think I might die a little at the way his face drops.
“No,” I exclaim when he starts to inch away. “I want you to. I just don’t want you to think that you have to,” I clarify, ignoring how hot my cheeks feel.
His eyes darken, twisting into something feral. “I’m going to need a list of every guy who made you feel like this was a chore for them.”
“Connor—” I start, ready to brush it off and tell him to forget all about it, but his hands on my hips stop me.
He glances back up at me and I feel like he’s seeing right through me, to all the layers that I keep hidden away from everyone else because I’m afraid they’re too much, too wild, too wanting for anyone to care about.
“Daisy, you have no idea how much I want this. Please let me do this for you.”
I swallow, feeling the heat pool deep in my stomach. “Okay.”
He lingers, giving me time to retract my consent. When I don’t, the corners of his lips tip up and he dips back down, eyes still on me. “Tell me to stop and I will.”
“Okay.”
He presses a kiss right above the waistband of my panties, closely followed by a swipe of his tongue. I squirm when he sinks further down, cold air hitting the spot he just licked, a perfect contrast to the fire he’s stoked in me.
He nips at my inner thigh, fingers hooking into my waistband again. I lift my hips, allowing him to pull them all the way down and off.
I barely get a chance to feel self-conscious about the way I’m splayed out before him, because his tongue finds the spot where I need him the most.
I think Connor buried between my thighs might be the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen. His hair is mushed and sticking up in every direction. Cheeks flushed and eyes closed, arms wrapped around my thighs and spreading me open for him.
There is nothing tentative or hesitant about the way his tongue moves against me. Every twist, every turn, ever lick is full of determination, his movement switching between lingering and fast-paced.
“You taste so fucking good,” he murmurs against me, and I think his praise alone might be enough to send me over the edge as I thrash against his pillow.