25. Connor
CONNOR
The flash of cameras sends us away from Gustoso, like lightning in a summer storm ushering us back home, and the feel of Delaney’s hand laced through mine is just as electric.
It took all of my self-control to not drive her straight to my place when I picked her up for our date.
She showed up in a skimpy little top and jeans that were damn near painted on, and a sweet, innocent smile, acting like she has no clue what she’s doing to me.
Delaney starts humming a melody I don’t recognize, getting louder and drumming a little beat on my dash with her free hand as we pull out of the parking lot.
“Something new you’re working on?” I ask, turning down Main Street to cross town back to our houses.
Her cheeks turn a soft pink, but the small smile playing on her lips is more pride than embarrassment. “Yeah, just something that’s been rolling around in my head all week. Nothing special.”
“Everything you write is special. Sing it for me.”
Delaney hesitates for a moment, then clears her throat and shimmies a little in her seat, straightening up. “Okay, but you can’t say anything about it because it’s still really just an idea of a song, not even a song yet.”
I nod and wait. Delaney needs time. I think that’s why she gets so flustered with her dad. He rushes and quips and says too much too fast. But my Lanie is meticulous and moves on her own time. I’m happy to wait as long as she needs.
And I’m rewarded for that patience with the sweetest sound filling the space of my small car.
“And I’d pick this forever from a field of wildflowers. Just you and me, under the stars for hours. A seed we planted long ago, the brightest colors, can’t say no.”
I realize I haven’t heard her like this, just the two of us, since we were kids. She used to make up songs about anything and everything as we ran wild in the orchard. She sang loud, silly songs with reckless abandon. I was always envious of that freedom, the way she could let go and just be.
And the lyrics aren’t lost on me. Neither is the longing laced in her voice.
“It’s really good, Lanie,” I say, a little breathier than intended.
She bites her lip, bracing for impact. “You think so? My writing still isn’t where I’d like it to be. I feel like my lyrics are all a little too on the nose, you know? I’m sure I’ll never actually record this one.”
I watch as she retreats inward, no hint of the carefree, loud girl she was when we were kids. A shell of her former self. It’s a dagger to the chest to see her shy away from all that she is, all that she can be.
“Delaney, you’re a really talented song writer. Always have been. I can’t wait to hear more,” I tell her sincerely.
She smiles so brightly at that, it cracks my heart wide open. I’d do anything to get more of that smile. Anything to see more of that confident woman I’ve loved for so long.
“Come home with me,” I blurt out.
In the stillness of the car, the implication of those four words is tangible.
Once we cross that line, everything will change, forever.
If this mess of a thing between us came to a crashing end right now, we could explain it away.
It was a PR relationship, it was all fake anyway.
But if we cross that line, there will be no more pretending.
Delaney squeezes my hand. “Okay.”
It’s barely a whisper, but the word echoes like a scream in my head.
Okay means she feels the electricity between us.
Okay means she’s willing to risk our friendship.
Okay means that maybe she loves me too.
We drive in silence, hand in hand, my pulse picking up its pace the closer we get to my driveway. By the time I pull into my garage, my heart is threatening to explode out of my chest.
If this is how I feel holding her damn hand, I’ll be a dead man by the morning.
Delaney’s sudden laugh cuts through the tension. It starts small then erupts, as she buries her face in her hands.
I shake my head at her. “Delaney James! Are you laughing at me?”
She holds her hands up, still laughing, and turns in her seat to face me. “No, no, no,” she wheezes out, “not at you. It’s a nervous laugh, really.”
And I see it now, the anxious giggle vibrating in time with her racing heart.
Delaney lets out a big exhale, steadying herself a little.
“I… I can’t believe this is where we ended up, you know?
In our home town, posing for the stupid paparazzi to salvage my floundering career, racing back to your parents house…
you know how many nights I wanted to walk over here, how many nights I looked out my window to check and see if the light was on in your bedroom? It feels…”
She trails off, a dreamy look in her eye, and I swoop in, reaching across the center console, hands finding her hips to tug her closer to me.
I capture her unspoken words with my mouth.
Her lips part instantly under mine, hungry and searching.
It takes more self-control than I care to admit to pull myself away.
“It feels meant to be, Delaney. You and me, we are meant to be,” I murmur against her skin. “Now will you get out of the car because I have no desire to make out with you in here like teenagers when we’ve got a whole house waiting for us.”
Her giddy little giggle is back as she pulls away and slides out of my passenger side door.
She looks over at me, that slinky silk top exposing her lean shoulders and bare back. “You coming or what?” She pouts her lips, clearly pleased with her innuendo.
I’m out of my seat and by her side in an instant. “Fuck, Lanie, you can’t talk to me like that when you look like that,” I growl out through gritted teeth. “Get your ass inside.” I give her backside a light smack and the squeal that escapes her lips is a dangerous thing.
She steps out of her shoes as I pull the door closed behind us. I trail my eyes up, taking her in. Those dark jeans hug her curves in all the right ways and the silk material against the sliver of exposed stomach has me struggling to breathe.
One swift move and I’ve got her pinned against the washing machine in the mud room. I pick her up, rough and quick, and set her on top. My hands find the tops of her thighs and I pull her in close. She lets out a surprised gasp and it sends electricity coursing through me.
“You really did that? Used to look out of your window and see if my light was on?”
Her breath is quick, voice a little shaky. “Every. Fucking. Night.”
That’s all I need to hear. My hands tug her hair free from the messy bun, fingers tangling at the base of her skull, angling her up for me to capture her lips fully.
She kisses me back with equal urgency, hooking her legs around me, pulling me closer between her thighs. Her lips trail down the side of my neck and I groan at the sensation.
“You’ve been dreaming of this for a while, haven’t you, Lanie baby?”
She mumbles yes, warm breath sparking against my skin as her hands reach to untuck the hem of my shirt from my pants.
“How long? Tell me how long you’ve wanted me like this.”
Delaney pulls back, eyes locked on mine and bites her swollen lips. “Connor, I haven’t stopped dreaming up this moment since you kissed me on the choir trip.”
“Mmm, but this was fake back then wasn’t it?” I tease, my lips exploring the line of her collarbone, her head falling back to give me access. When she doesn’t respond, I bite at her sensitive flesh. “Was it fake when I kissed you or not?”
“Not fake,” she breathes out.
I feather kisses back up her neck. “That’s what I thought, Lanie baby.” My lips are on hers again, taking as much as she’ll give. Her heels dig into my ass and she moans into my mouth when she rocks her core against me.
Her fingers trace my waistband but when she starts to fumble with my belt, I pull her down off the washer.
Delaney stumbles a little as her feet hit the ground. “Why’d you stop?” Her chest rises and falls quickly, hair a mess, perfect lipstick smudged; she’s panting and needy.
Panting for me.
“Baby,” I say, tugging her down the hall, away from the dimly lit mud room and towards the main staircase, “you might have been thinking about this moment for weeks, but I’ve been dreaming about you in my bed for years.”
I glance over my shoulder at those big, bright eyes to see her hanging onto my every word, desperation and desire dancing on her face. If she keeps looking at me like that, I’m not gonna last long.
“I’m not about to fuck you for the first time on top of the washing machine. Now be a good girl and get your ass upstairs.”