Chapter 42
forty-two
. . .
CONNOR
She goes still. Not defensive, just perfectly quiet, like she’s searching for a way to turn this into a joke but coming up empty.
When she gives me the smallest nod, it feels like permission and a warning all at once.
“You weren’t just a voice in my headset anymore,” I say, my throat tightening around the words. “You weren’t just SailorGirl on a screen.”
I force myself to keep going, even when the next part sticks.
“You were real. And it scared the hell out of me.”
She doesn’t look away. Doesn’t blink.
And somehow that’s worse, because I can’t hide behind her anger if she’s simply listening.
“It hit me all at once,” I continue, voice roughening. “That I didn’t want to lose you.”
I see it register—the way her chest stills, like she’s bracing for something she doesn’t trust yet.
“I knew my name would change everything,” I say. “My reputation. Rory. The sponsorship mess. All of it.”
My gaze drags over her face, searching for the moment she decides I’m not worth it.
“And I panicked.”
Her eyes shine, just for a second. She’ll hate that I saw it.
“I left,” I admit, the words scraping on the way out. “Because it felt safer to have you think I was an asshole than to stand there and watch you decide I wasn’t worth it.”
She swallows hard.
I can feel her reaching for something—armor, distance, anything that lets her stay in control.
But I don’t stop.
“And then Coral Cove happened,” I say, quieter now. “And even knowing who I was, you didn’t look at me like I was a problem to manage.”
My voice dips before I can stop it.
“You looked at me like I was someone you wanted.”
That’s the part that still gets me. The way she saw me before she knew. The way she didn’t flinch.
“And I thought maybe I had a shot,” I say. “That if I showed you who I actually am first…maybe you wouldn’t walk away when you found out the rest.”
Her voice cuts in, tight. “So you kept lying.”
There’s no way around it.
“Yeah. I kept lying because I was scared,” I say, forcing myself not to soften it. “And because I was already falling for you.”
Her breath catches—small, sharp, like her body reacted before she could stop it.
“Fast,” I add. “Hard. And I knew I had to tell you. I just—” I shake my head once. “I didn’t want to lose what we had before I had to.”
The silence that follows is thick. Charged.
“I told myself I’d earn it,” I go on. “That I’d prove I’m not the guy everyone thinks I am. That I could show up for you first and then tell you the rest.”
I let out a breath. “But that was still a lie. And that’s on me.”
She doesn’t interrupt this time.
Doesn’t deflect.
Just stands there, taking it in.
“So yeah,” I say, quieter now. “I tried to keep it simple. Physical. Easy. What you said you wanted.”
Her laugh is thin. “And?”
“And I can’t do that with you.”
The words come out steadier than I feel.
“Not when it actually matters.”
Her eyes flicker.
“Why?” she asks, even though I can tell she already knows.
I take a step closer. Close enough that she can feel I’m not going anywhere this time.
“Because you’re not just something I can keep separate,” I say. “And if I sleep with you while you still think this is just…convenient—”
I swallow.
“It’s going to mean something to me anyway.”
It’s the truth, and it feels so fucking good to say it out loud.
“And I need you to trust me before we cross that line.”
Her throat works, then her gaze drops for a second, before coming back to mine.
“I’m not at one hundred percent,” she says slowly. “But I’m also past the point of pretending I don’t want this with you.”
Something in my chest loosens.
“I trust you, Connor.”
Her pillow slips from her arms, like she’s setting down the last piece of armor she has left.
And that’s it.
That’s the moment everything shifts.
I close my eyes for half a second, just to take it in. Just to make sure I don’t ruin it by moving too fast, by becoming the version of me she’s still trying not to believe in.
When I open them again, she’s still there.
Still choosing me.
That’s all it takes.
I cross the space between us, not careful anymore, but certain.
My hands find her face, and I pull her into me like I’ve been holding back for too long.
Her back hits the wall, but I catch her, steady her, anchor her there as my mouth finds hers.
The sound she makes against my mouth goes straight through me.
My tongue presses to her lower lip, slow at first, then deeper when she opens for me like she’s been waiting for it. Like we both have.
She makes this soft, breathless sound—half victory, half relief—and it wrecks me, because she thinks she’s claiming me, but she has no idea what she already owns.
I slide my hands down, grip her hips, then lift.
She goes easily, wrapping her legs around my waist because she trusts me to hold her there.
“I’ve got you,” I murmur against her mouth, like I need her to hear it. Like I need to prove it.
“Then don’t let me go.”
And fuck, what that does to me.
Her back hits the bed a second later, and I come down with her, kissing her hard enough to make her gasp.
Mine.
That’s the only word in my head now. Mine to touch. Mine to taste. Mine to make fall apart.
My mouth drags from her lips to her throat, lower, and I feel every shaky breath she gives me. My hands move over her with purpose, no hesitation left, no space for second-guessing. I’ve wanted this too long to pretend otherwise.
“Connor—”
My name breaks out of her softly, and it goes straight to my cock.
“Yeah,” I mutter against her skin. “I know.”
I move down her body and settle between her thighs, spreading her open with both hands. For a second I just look at her—flushed, breathing hard, already wrecked for me—and the sight of it damn near undoes me.
“Fuck,” I say, low and rough. “Look at you, so ready for my cock. And you’ll get it. But first, I need to taste you.”
Then I put my mouth on her.
She jerks under me, a broken sound leaving her, and I grip her thighs harder to hold her where I want her. I don’t rush it. I take what she gives me and keep going until she gives me more—until her fingers are in my hair and her hips are bucking like she can’t help it.
That’s when I really lose it.
I slide my hand between her thighs and ease two fingers inside her, keeping my mouth on her while she comes apart one sharp breath at a time. The sound she makes is filthy and pretty and all mine, and I do it again just to hear it.
“Yeah,” I murmur against her. “That’s it.”
She grips my hair harder, like she wants more, so I give it to her. I work my hand slow and deep, curl my fingers, and keep my mouth on her until she’s shaking for me, until she’s making those wrecked little sounds like she doesn’t even know she’s doing it.
By the time I come back up, she’s flushed and trembling, staring at me like I just dragged her somewhere she’s never been.
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and crowd over her again, one hand braced by her head, the other sliding up her body.
“You taste so fucking good,” I tell her, voice gone rough as gravel. “I could stay between your thighs all night.”
She lets out an unsteady breath that sounds almost like a laugh. Knowing she’s having a good time only makes me harder.
Then she grabs the front of my shirt, pulls me down, and kisses me like she wants every filthy bit of that truth for herself.