37. Konnor
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
konnor
The water rushes over my head, soaking my hair and splashing the tiles.
I smile. Downstairs, a few short metres away, Cassidy, Elise, and the love of my life are all laughing and getting to know each other.
Jax is already in the guest bedroom, having fallen into a food coma after his and Cassidy’s stupid cupcake challenge.
Though everyone else had put their bets on Jax, I wasn’t so na?ve.
Jaxon: Seven.
Cassidy: Nine.
Where does she put it? We should have her tested.
I smile hard underneath the spray. I never thought a day like this would come.
My past and present colliding in the best way.
Liz meeting Cassidy… I know that I pushed for this—maybe even forced it on Blesk, but I knew she’d be welcome.
Cassidy loves everyone, sees the good in everyone.
My parents are tolerant and easy-going—everyone gets a chance, and more often than not, seconds, and thirds.
I should know. Think I’m on my hundredth.
I grab the soap and lather up. When Blesk pries herself away from Cassidy and joins me upstairs, the first thing I’m going to do is show her the window I used to jump out of every night just because I could.
Second storey, sure, the drop was part of the fun.
I run my hands up my face and through my hair, rubbing the suds through my scalp, then washing them out.
My mind drifts to the envelope we’ve put off opening.
Is there actually closure waiting for us inside, or is this his last sick joke?
I push that aside and think about my girl.
I love how quickly Duch and Cassidy have taken to each other, even though they couldn’t be more different.
Cassidy is a sweet soul, but she never had to want for anything.
Blesk was neglected, abused, deceived—and has come out the other end resilient and kind all by herself.
Standing naked in the shower is not the best time to be thinking about her…
I breathe out deeply and look down at my cock.
How much time do I have?
I exhale and wrap my hand around my erection, closing my eyes, envisioning… What does she look like naked? Smooth curves. Soft skin. My shoulder and forehead find the tiles as I pant through the steam.
Fuck.
I lean harder into the tiles as my abdomen tightens.
I groan. “Blesk.” I grunt her name between pants.
“Blesk.” I rock my hips into my palm, tightening my fist. “Blesk—fuck.” My mouth falls open, mind conjuring images of her breasts, recalling her scent.
My left leg buckles, my bicep trembles, and a long hiss passes my lips.
Then the door clicks open, and I freeze. “Blesk?” The sound of her feet crossing the bathroom floor comes through the lapping of the water. I drop my cock.
“Konnor?” Her voice is gentle, hesitant and husky from the wine, and my cock leaks pre-cum. “Do you mind if I brush my teeth?”
Fuck no.
“Yeah, Duch, of course.”
Moments pass. Seconds tick by.
I listen for movement, but don’t hear water running through the spout or any sound at all. I frown, concentrating on her footsteps, on her breath, until I can’t stand the suspense. I pull the curtain back just enough to see her.
Well, fuck me sideways.
My heart hammers against my skull like a damn machine gun.
She’s standing completely naked in front of me, staring and breathing heavily.
I pull the curtain back all the way. Taking her in, every part of me races in every direction until I’m dizzy with it.
She forces a nervous smile, her eyes dropping to my erection.
She gasps, her gaze snapping back to my face.
Checking me out?
I saw that, Blesk.
I study her; breasts heavy and full, nipples firm and the perfect shade of pink. Her skin is smooth—no, fucking flawless. And that stomach is soft and flat but not toned. Perfect. My eyes drop to her bare, pink pussy. Fuck.
Clearing my throat, I quickly adjust the water temperature, cooler. I need it cooler. “Duch, you—”
“Shh.” She steps into the shower. “I want to.”
“How much have you had to drink?” I ask, backing myself into a corner of the shower, so my hands can’t reach out and grab her.
“A few glasses of wine, Konnor. Stop pretending you’re a gentleman. I know you aren’t like this with other girls.”
I don’t overthink that. She saw me with Pemberton, maybe. That’s not an unfair thing to say. And my brain-blood is in my cock right now.
The water splashes over my shoulders, spraying her chest, leaving beads that trickle down her skin.
“Well, you aren’t like other girls.”
She leans in and kisses me, sliding her tongue into my mouth and humming against my lips. I’m naked. She is naked. My brain has no blood, but I’m pretty fucking sure this means— I wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her against my body so her skin presses to the length of mine.
She goes limp in my arms, giving me complete control to move her around the shower. My cock pounds between our bodies. I want to go slow, to savour this, to revel in it—but goddammit if my hands don’t want to be everywhere at once.
Need more hands. Hands in hair. Hands on her arse. Hands sliding up her sides, rolling over those curves and the subtle outlines of her ribcage.
I kiss her harder. Mouth tilted. Cock knocking between us. Tongue demanding entry to her mouth.
I love you.
My lips trail desperately down her chin to my favourite spot on her neck where her pulse throbs frantically, then all over the delicate skin around her chest.
God, I love you.
Hands. Everywhere. One in her hair, one gripping her arse cheek, sinking my fingers into her flesh and grinding her into my pelvis. I love you.
She leans into my ear and purrs, “Is this what you want?”
Fuck. Yes.
“Only if you want it, Duch,” I rasp against her skin, breathless already like a damn rookie.
My hand slides forward from her arse, stroking her stomach until I’m cupping her breast, squeezing and groaning as I work her nipple with my palm.
My pelvis rocks against her hip. Then I lose it—push her against the shower wall.
She gasps. I grab her left leg and wrap it around my back.
The water makes our bodies slide together, effortless and warm.
I kiss her deeper, rubbing against her. My hand moves between us, positioning my cock between her thighs.
“Oh God, Duch. Thank you.”
Then her lips go still.
A small whimper—a good whimper, I think? But I stop and pull back to look into her eyes, making sure.
My heart stops.
She’s… crying.
Fucking crying.
I frown. “What’s going on?”
Her bottom lip trembles, her gaze dropping to the floor, and I think my heart goes with it.
I let her go. Step back. “What’s going on, Blesk?”
She blinks through the water, beads catching in her lashes and trailing down her cheeks. Nothing.
“Dammit. What’s going on?”
She stares at the white tiles beneath her feet, focused on her breathing.
“Duchess?” I beg again, my voice breaking. Fuck it—I grab her chin, trying to make her look at me, but she purposely bounces her gaze away, refusing me.
“What have I done? Tell me and I’ll never do it again.”
After several painfully long seconds, she finally stares straight at me through empty, shallow pools. I blink and tilt my head, trying to analyse the void in front of me. All the love she showed me today is gone from her eyes.
She murmurs in a half-voice I barely recognise, “Don’t ever thank me for that again.”
“What?”
She strangles a sob. “Erik used to thank me.”
“I’m sorry, baby.” I cup her face and kiss her lips, softly. Too soon. It was too soon. I should have known better. Last time she was spouting her brother’s words and fucking my fingers, this time… I have to do better. Understand her. Read her fucking mind somehow.
“How many girls were you with last week?” Her eyes lift, hitting me with such force I drop my hands from her face.
Words. Where the fuck are my words? “What?”
“Were you with other girls last week?”
“We weren’t together.”
Her lip stiffens. “That isn’t what I asked.”
“Don’t do this, Duch. Plea—”
“Just answer the question, Konnor!”
“Where are you hearing this from?”
“Tell me it isn’t true. Tell me the girl I met downstairs was lying to me. Faith, I think her name is? Correct? She was also at the rugby party? How long has this been going on? Do you text her? Do you…” Her voice shakes. “Like her?”
Fuck.
“No.” I press my palm flat against the tiles, steadying myself while the room tilts. I don’t even remember it. I— I don’t even remember.
My blood roars for alcohol.
She starts to sob, shoulders shaking, and I die a little inside. It’s my fault. “Tell me you didn’t sleep with her, then kick her out the next morning. Tell me you didn’t treat her like a whore. Tell me she’s lying about that?”
“It isn’t a lie.” I may not remember, but I also know that something happened. There are flashes. Moments. If I could bleach them away, I would.
Blesk winces.
Everything crashes down at once, splintering something in my chest. Last week I couldn’t breathe without her. Couldn’t think. That wasn’t me—she has to know that.
“So?” she cries, spluttering, barely choking her words out between whimpers. “Answer the questions.”
“You wanted to be friends,” I say again, like it’s that simple, when I know it isn’t. And fuck me for this.
“So if I slept with another guy last week, that would be okay with you, because we were just friends?”
No; it’d destroy me.
I shut my eyes and breathe hard through my nose. I hold my eyes closed until I hear her moving—then I snap them open and catch her wrist. “Please, Blesk.”
“Let go!” She tugs away. I let go. With a small sob, she steps out of the shower. I just watch her wrap a towel around her body and walk away.
Leaving me standing here.
My hands press to either side of the faucet, and I dip my head between them, staring at the porcelain, wishing to smash it with my fist, to feel this pain become external.
How do I fix this? I have to. I breathe through the fall. She hasn’t left my room. I would have heard her.
Get a grip.
Man up.
Go to her.
Beg.
Grovel.
I shut off the water.