Chapter Thirteen
Sierra
A t my apartment, Connor hadn’t asked. He knew. He knew which key on the keyring he gave me was for my door. Knew I’d bolt if he turned on the main lights. He flicked on a lamp instead, its glow painting my bedroom warm, and he guided me to the edge of the bed.
“Arms up,” he instructed, voice low but firm.
I obeyed automatically, too drained to protest as he peeled off my cardigan. The AC kissed my clammy skin and bra, raising goosebumps, but Connor was already wrapping me in his hoodie, the one he left here before Vegas. It swallowed me whole, sleeves pooling past my fingertips.
“Socks.” He knelt, his knees cracking against the hardwood, and I flinched at the sound.
“Look at me.”
I did. His eyes were black in the dimness, unreadable save for the tension in his jaw.
He peeled off my ballet flats, his thumbs pressing into the arches of my feet until the knots unraveled. "Christ, you're freezing," he muttered, pressing my soles against his chest. The heat of him seeped through his shirt, warming me.
The wool socks he pulled on were mismatched, one striped, one dotted with cats, but his hands slid them onto my feet with a care that made tears sting my eyes.
“Better?” he asked quietly.
I nodded, unable to find words past the lump in my throat.
Connor stood and bundled me up in an extra blanket, carrying me to my living room couch and gently depositing me there.
He moved to the kitchen without another word, rummaging through cabinets and pulling out ingredients from the grocery haul he brought me before his fight. The smell of butter and cheese sizzling in a pan soon filled the air, mingling with the faint spice of garlic and herbs.
“What are you doing?” I managed to ask after a few minutes.
“Making you dinner,” he replied simply, slicing the fluffiest bread I'd ever seen and dousing it in butter.
I watched him work from my spot on the couch, mesmerized by how easily he moved in my tiny kitchen despite his size.
The grilled cheese sandwiches he prepared were golden and crispy, oozing with layers of melted cheese that smelled like heaven.
He paired them with tomato soup swirled with cream and garnished with fresh basil—simple comfort food elevated to something luxurious.
I wanted to cry.
Connor carried everything over on a tray and set it down on the coffee table before sitting beside me. His eyes stayed locked on mine as he handed me a bowl of soup and half of a sandwich.
“Eat,” he said softly but firmly.
The first bite melted on my tongue, rich and satisfying in a way that made tears prick at my eyes again. He’d made this just for me, and it was divine.
“Good?” Connor asked after watching me take a few bites. I nodded quickly, not trusting myself to speak without crying over grilled cheese like an idiot.
He smiled softly, a rare expression that softened his features, and leaned back against the couch with his own bowl in hand. Toffee purred at my other side as if he knew I could use his warmth.
When we finished eating, Connor took the dishes back to the kitchen while I curled deeper into the cushions with Toffee. My body felt heavy but relaxed for the first time since the incident.
Connor returned and sat beside me again, his arm draping across the back of the couch as he turned slightly toward me. His dark eyes searched mine for something I couldn’t quite name.
“You scared me today,” he admitted quietly after a long pause.
My heart squeezed. “I’m sorry,” I whispered automatically, guilt twisting in my stomach.
Connor shook his head sharply. “Don’t apologize for that.” His voice softened again as he added, “Just… let me help you next time.”
The sincerity in his tone made my tears threaten my eyes again. I nodded because words just felt too difficult right now.
He shifted closer until his heat became mine. Not just brushing but pressing together, and he reached up to brush his knuckles over my cheek.
The tension between us crackled like electricity, warm but charged, and when Connor leaned in slightly, I leaned in further.
His lips brushed mine tentatively before deepening into something soft, healing, and gentle.
My hands found their way to his shoulders as I kissed him back, losing myself in the taste of him, my eyes closed. His hand gently cradled the back of my neck while his other arm wrapped securely around my waist.
“Still hungry, hmm?” He murmured against my lips, and I was. Especially when his stubble brushed my cheeks and his tongue coaxed mine into a rhythm so warm and soothing.
He pulled back.
“Sierra.”
My name was a wrecked thing in his mouth. His chest heaved under my palms, his heartbeat frantic against my skin. “You’re still trembling.”
He rested his forehead against mine before pulling back entirely with visible reluctance. “I don’t think touching you is what you need right now,” he said hoarsely, despite how wrecked he looked.
His dark eyes were hungry, and his lips were slightly swollen from kissing me senseless.
I blinked at him in confusion. He wasn’t rejecting me, exactly… He was protecting me from himself or from whatever he thought he should have.
Connor reached up again to brush another curl from my face before standing abruptly, like he needed distance to keep himself grounded.
“Come, let’s go to bed,” he beckoned softly, and I felt my nerves ease, knowing he would stay with me. He settled me in and disappeared to take care of Toffee before climbing in behind me.
The bed dipped as he settled, his chest flush against my back. His arm snaked around my waist, and his palm splayed over my ribs like he was holding them.
“Breathe,” he murmured into my hair.
And I did.