Chapter Twenty-Seven
Sierra
T he evening had been surreal. From the private room with its crystal chandeliers and white tablecloths to the parade of exquisite dishes that seemed to appear without anyone actually ordering them.
Connor had nodded at the ma?tre d' when we arrived, and everything unfolded like a choreographed dance.
The staff treated us with respect, addressing Connor as “Mr. Graves” while barely making eye contact.
I'd first felt so out of place, aware of my casual outfit among the restaurant's elegant surroundings. But Connor had kept me close, his hand rarely leaving some part of me. Sometimes my waist, my thigh, the nape of my neck. His touch was reassuring, a constant reminder that I belonged with him.
Throughout dinner, I couldn't stop thinking about what Connor had whispered to me before the press conference. His promises about what would happen when we were finally alone sent heat coursing through my body even now, hours later.
He'd been so patient with me these past weeks, never pushing for more than I was ready to give. Even after his last victory, when adrenaline clearly coursed through his veins, he'd been gentle and considerate, taking me to new heights of pleasure but always stopping short of that final step.
I appreciated his restraint and understanding of my inexperience, but tonight felt different. Watching him in the ring, seeing his raw power and control, and then being claimed so publicly as his, awakened something in me. A sudden desire to be completely his in every way.
“You're quiet, sweet girl,” Connor murmured, his lips brushing my cheek. “Tired?”
I shook my head, offering him a small smile. “Just thinking about dinner. It was amazing.”
“Only the best for our champion and his lady,” Adrian said with a grin, looking back at us and raising his glass in a mock toast. He'd insisted on bringing a bottle of champagne for the ride back, claiming the celebration wasn't over yet.
The memory of the dinner conversation floated back to me.
The easy banter between the three men, the inside jokes I didn't quite understand but enjoyed nonetheless, and the way they'd made efforts to include me, explaining references and sharing stories that helped me piece together their friendship.
Something had been nagging at me throughout the evening, though, and the relaxed atmosphere of the ride finally gave me the courage to ask.
Seizing the opportunity, I leaned slightly in my seat to face Jax and Adrian. “Can I ask you guys something?”
They both looked at me expectantly, identical expressions of curiosity and indulgence on their faces. It was moments like these when I could see why they were such close friends with Connor—there was a similarity between them that I couldn’t quite name.
“Of course, bee,” Adrian replied, his usual cheerful grin in place. “What's on your mind? ”
Jax gave me a nod, and my ears heated. A fully tattooed beast of a man, and an Easton giving me their full attention.
I hesitated for a moment, suddenly feeling shy under their combined gazes. But Connor's hand squeezed my shoulder reassuringly, and I found the courage to continue.
“I was just wondering... why haven't you two been fighting lately? I mean, I've seen Connor's matches, but I haven't heard anything about yours.”
Jax smiled, answering me warmly. “We're fighting staggered this season,” he explained, swirling the champagne in his glass with his pinky finger extended. “Strategic decision.”
“The three of us agreed not to compete against each other," Adrian added, giving me a smile. “And with Connor dominating the heavyweight division, it made sense for me to step back temporarily.”
“I can’t anyway,” Jax said with a casual shrug that didn't quite mask his pride. “Different weight class, but still, the media loves to pit us against each other. Better to avoid the drama.”
That surprised me, given Jax was nearly the same size as Connor and Adrian. It was probably a small difference in weight.
Connor's fingers traced lazy patterns on my shoulder as he spoke. “These two plan to rejoin the championship circuit while I focus on the next title.”
“Next title?” I asked, unfamiliar with what that meant.
“The next champion title," Connor explained. “I need to win another belt, and that way, a championship spot would open up for Adrian.”
“It's all part of the long game,” Adrian answered, his expression thoughtful. “We each have our path, but we move forward together.”
His tone held something deeper than just their boxing careers, but before I could puzzle it out, Jax changed the subject, launching into a story about a particularly disastrous date he'd had with a model who turned out to be vegan, and was horrified by his order of steak tartare.
I started giggling, the alcohol and light conversation floating through me .
I kept thinking about being back in the room with Connor, and it sent heat coursing through my body. I shifted slightly against him, suddenly very aware of his solid warmth beside me.
I was nervous, of course. The thought of giving myself to him so completely was both exhilarating and terrifying.
Connor’s experienced, confident, while I'm... not.
But he's been so patient with teaching me everything else, guiding me with gentle instructions and praise until I felt almost confident in my ability to please him.
Will tonight be the night? The question circled in my mind as I watched the city lights blur past the window. Part of me hoped it would be, while another part clung to the last threads of the girl I'd been before Connor—always overthinking everything.
“We're almost there,” Connor said, his voice cutting through my thoughts. His hand slid from my shoulder to the nape of my neck, fingers tangling in my hair in that possessive way I recognized. “You okay, sweet girl?”
I nodded, meeting his intense gaze. There was heat there, unmistakable, and something else—a question, perhaps, or a promise.
Whatever came next, I trusted him completely.
This man just knocked someone unconscious in a ring, but touched me so gently.
He commanded people with his presence, but always, always checked to make sure I was comfortable.
“I'm okay,” I answered softly, and I meant it. I was ready for whatever happened tonight, whatever step we took next in this whirlwind relationship. Nervous, yes, but ready.
The elevator ride up to our floor was charged with a tension that made it hard to breathe.
Connor stood behind me, his front pressed against my back, one arm wrapped around my waist, while his lips occasionally brushed against my neck.
Each fleeting touch sent shivers cascading down my spine, and I leaned into him, craving more contact despite Jax and Adrian being here too .
The two men pretended not to notice, conversing about some upcoming event as if Connor wasn't practically devouring me with his eyes in the mirrored walls of the elevator.
I caught glimpses of us reflected back—my flushed face, Connor's intense gaze fixed on me, his large hand splayed across my stomach.
When the elevator finally reached our floor, Jax and Adrian stepped out first, both turning to bid us goodnight with knowing smirks.
“It was a pleasure watching you fly over the railing, bee. Don't do anything I wouldn't do,” Jax called over his shoulder as he headed toward his room, his voice laced with amusement.
“That doesn't rule out much," Adrian snorted, turning to wink at us. “Congrats again, Champion. See you two tomorrow... probably late.”
Connor's only response was a dismissive wave as he guided me down the hallway toward our suite, his hand resting at the small of my back. The moment our door closed behind us, he spun me around, pressing me against it with his body, his hands framing my face as his mouth descended on mine.
The kiss was nothing like the controlled ones he'd given me throughout the evening. This was raw, hungry, and demanding, his tongue immediately pushing past my lips to find mine. He tasted like champagne and something I'd grown addicted to over our time together.
His hands slid from my face to my waist, then lower, splaying over my hips and pulling me hard against him so I could feel his arousal through our clothes.
“Do you have any idea,” he growled against my lips, “how fucking difficult it's been to keep my hands off you all night?”
I gasped as he lifted me effortlessly, my legs wrapping around his waist as he carried me deeper into the suite.
“You didn't exactly keep your hands off me,” I reminded him breathlessly, recalling how he'd kept me on his lap throughout the press conference, his arm around me during dinner, his touch constant and possessive.
“That was nothing.”
His voice dropped to that low register that made my stomach flip. “I wanted to bend you over that dinner table and make you mine.”
The words sent a rush of heat between my legs, my body responding. “Let me take what I waited for, sweet girl. Let me have this pretty little body tonight.”
He carried me to the bedroom, depositing me on the massive king bed with a gentleness that contrasted with the hunger in his eyes.
I bounced slightly on the plush mattress, looking up at him as he stood at the foot of the bed, his gaze raking over me with an intensity that made me feel simultaneously exposed and cherished.
“Take off your clothes,” he commanded softly, his hands already working at the buttons of his own shirt. “I want to see all of you.”
My fingers trembled slightly as I reached for the hem of my sweater, pulling it over my head to reveal the cotton bra beneath. Connor's eyes darkened as I unhooked it, letting it fall away to expose my breasts to his gaze.
The cool air of the room made my nipples harden instantly, or perhaps it was the way he looked at me, like I was a feast and he was starving.