14. Packages and Peace Offerings
14
PACKAGES AND PEACE OFFERINGS
ARIANA
"I swear to god," I mutter as Connor and I race up the stairs to my apartment, "if this is another Elvis-themed anything..."
"You mean you don't want more sequined kitchen appliances?" Connor keeps pace beside me, not even slightly winded. Show-off. "I thought the waffle iron was growing on you."
"The waffle iron tried to play 'Suspicious Minds' at three in the morning." I fumble with my keys. "My neighbors filed a noise complaint."
"Sounds like someone's got a suspicious mind about suspicious minds."
"That doesn't even make sense." But I'm fighting a laugh as we reach my floor. "Also, how are you not out of breath? We just ran up six flights of stairs."
"Good genes." He grins. "Also, your elevator was working fine. You're the one who insisted on stairs."
"Because the last time I took that elevator, Mrs. Peterson from 4B cornered me for a forty-minute conversation about her Grandson's juice cleanse business. "
"Ah yes, the dreaded MLM ambush." He steadies me as I nearly trip. "Truly the most dangerous form of neighbor."
"You're making fun of me."
"Never." But his steely-blue eyes stare. "Though I have to ask—is running away from social interaction your default setting, or am I just special?"
I'm about to reply when Frank, my doorman, comes sprinting down the hallway.
"Ms. Bristol!" He skids to a stop, wheezing slightly. "I tried to catch you downstairs, but—" He spots Connor. "Oh. Hello, sir. I didn't realize Ms. Bristol had... company."
"Frank." I straighten. "What's the situation?"
"Well..." He shifts nervously. "Mr. Drake stopped by earlier..."
My stomach drops. "Will was here?"
Connor goes very still beside me.
"He left something." Frank gestures to my door. "Said it was a peace offering. I tried to tell him you weren't accepting deliveries, but he insisted it was important."
I approach my apartment slowly, like the door might bite. "Please tell me you didn't let him inside."
"Of course not!" Frank looks offended. "I may be new, but I'm not stupid. I made him leave it in the hall."
"Good man." Connor claps him on the shoulder. "Any chance you got security footage?"
"Already saved and backed up." Frank grins. "Ms. Bristol taught me well."
I reach my door, then freeze.
Because there, propped against the frame, is an oversized gift basket that looks like Gwyneth Paltrow's lifestyle brand threw up all over it.
"Oh no." I pick up the card. "Oh hell no."
"What?" Connor peers over my shoulder.
"'Dear Ari,'" I read, my voice getting higher with each word. "'I know we ended things badly, but I hope these healing crystals and organic kombucha will help align your chakras during this transitional period. Namaste, Will.'"
Connor makes a strangled sound. "Please tell me he didn't actually write 'namaste.'"
"He did." I flip the card. "He also included instructions for a 'cleansing meditation ritual' to help me 'process my negative energy.'"
"Fascinating." Connor examines the basket. “He and my mother would get along great. And…what in the fresh hell exactly is 'moon-charged water'?"
"Probably tap water that Jenny left outside during a full moon." I poke at something wrapped in recycled paper. "Oh look, there's also sage for 'emotional smudging.'"
"How thoughtful." Connor's voice could freeze a penguin’s cold ass. "Nothing says 'sorry I cheated on you' like appropriated spiritual practices and overpriced water."
A laugh bubbles up in my throat, slightly hysterical. "God, I need a drink."
"I can think of better uses for that sage."
"Like what? Setting his yoga mat on fire?"
"I was thinking more along the lines of mailing it back to him. Perhaps with some creative repackaging."
"Creative how?"
"Ever wonder what happens when you combine sage, human waste, and glitter?"
I shouldn't laugh. I really shouldn't.
I do anyway.
"Come on." I unlock my door, leaving the basket in the hall. "I have wine, and I'm pretty sure I still have some of that lasagna Nonna Flora sent over."
"You're inviting me in?" He raises an eyebrow. "What happened to professional boundaries?"
""Professional boundaries went out the window somewhere between dance lessons and discussing glitter-shit warfare." I step inside. "Unless you'd rather go home and prep for tomorrow's blockchain presentation?"
He follows me in, closing the door. "You fight dirty, Bristol."
"You like it dirty.”
"Maybe I do."
The words bubble between us, simmering like a pot on low boil.
I busy myself in the kitchen, trying to ignore how his presence fills my apartment. How right it feels to have him here, leaning against my counter like he belongs.
"So," he says as I pour my best red wine, "want to talk about it?"
“Talk about what? The fact that my ex thinks crystal healing will fix his karma? Or the fact that you're in my kitchen at..." I check my phone. "Ten PM on a Tuesday?"
"Both." He accepts a glass. "Though I'm more interested in why you're letting me stay."
"Because..." I hesitate. “I don’t know…Just…Because.”
His eyes soften. "Ariana..."
"Don't." I take a large sip of wine. "Don't look at me like that."
"Like what?"
"Like I’m a shard of glass about to break.”
“Would that be so bad?” He steps closer. "I see someone who's been through a hell of a lot lately. A lot of change. Some not so good…Especially that jackass of a man you were supposed to marry.”
"That's not—Will was…”
“A fucking idiot.”
I blink at the sudden hostility. "What?"
“I said he was a fucking idiot. Because he was.” Connor moves closer still. “Any man, anyone, who has the opportunity to have someone like you— someone incredible, brilliant, warm, and fun as hell when she lets herself be—deserves to fall into a vat of glittered-shit and drown in it. He was too weak to handle your relationship. Handle you.”
"Connor, I don’t think he was…”
“What? Intimidated by you?” Another step. “A strong man doesn’t look at a woman like you and try to change her. A strong man, a capable man, only wants a woman like you. He should have been dazzled by how capable you are. How smart you are. How loving.”
"I don't know how accurate that ‘loving’ part is.”
“I do.” His hand cups my face. “How you put others before yourself? How you care about the people in your life so fiercely? Hell, how you make my assistant or the people in my office feel?” His stare narrows. “You make them feel seen, heard, loved—even when you don’t have to. It’s a damn gift, Ariana. A man who would look that gift in the face and give it away…never deserved it, anyway.”
I blink, taken aback by the rawness in his voice, the way his words seem to wrap around me like a blanket, protecting me from my own doubts.
He’s so close now, his hand still cupping my face, his thumb brushing gently over my skin, almost like he's trying to smooth away the tension that’s been sitting there too long.
And I lose what little restraint I had left.
I kiss him.
And this time, I don’t feel like I have to apologize for needing someone to hold on to.
He makes a half-groan, half-growl in the back of his throat, then pulls me closer, deepening the kiss. His mouth is hot, demanding, stealing my breath and my sanity in equal measure. I fist my hands in his shirt, needing him closer, needing more.
His hands slide down my back, pulling me flush against him. Instantly, I can feel the heat of his body, the hard planes of his chest…and his cock making itself known. Breaking away fr om the kiss, Connor’s exhales are ragged, as if every breath takes an effort, as he closes his eyes, leaning his forehead against mine.
“Fuck, Ariana, I want you so bad,” he murmurs, his voice a husky rasp that brushes against my skin. "I want to kiss you. I want to touch you.” He swallow. “I want to taste you.”
The words make my pulse race, a heartbeat starting to thrum between my thighs. "Connor..."
“Will you let me?” He opens his eyes. His hand slides up my arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. “Will you let me taste you?”
I hesitate for a moment, then nod, my breath hitching as his lips find mine again. He kisses me deeply, his hands roaming over my body, exploring every peak and valley. I moan into his mouth, my fingers threading in his hair as he lifts me onto the kitchen counter.
He breaks the kiss, those frost-kissed blue eyes of his growing hot. His jaw ticks. "Tell me what you want, Ariana."
I bite my lip, feeling a blush spread across my cheeks. "I want... I want your mouth on me."
A wicked smile spreads across his face, and he drops to his knees in front of me. Sliding my skirt up, his palms sweep up my thighs, and I gasp as he presses a soft kiss to the skin between them.
"Connor..." I moan, my head falling back against the cabinet.
"Patience, sweetheart," he murmurs, his fingers curving into the waistband of my panties. He slides them down my thighs, over my knees and down my calves, each swipe of the fabric driving my pulse higher.
I lift my hips, helping him remove the scrap of lace, and he tosses it aside, his eyes never leaving mine. And when he leans in, his breath warm against my pussy, I practically whimper in anticipation .
“God, you're so beautiful, Ariana,” he mumbles, his fingers tracing the folds of my sex. "So sexy. So wet.”
I am. I’m wetter than I’ve ever been in my life.
Wetter than any man has ever made me.
Because no man in my life has ever been Connor Reeves.
And my body definitely knows it. Because it can’t stop shaking.
Not when he parts me with his fingers, exposing the most intimate places of my body to his hungry gaze. Not when he hums low, a rumble emanating from his strong throat. And definitely not when his tongue flicks out to taste me.
The gasp I give when he makes contact is sharp—loud. My hips rock instinctively against his mouth as he begins to explore me with his tongue, his fingers sliding in and out of me in a slow, steady rhythm.
"Connor..." I moan, my fingers gripping the silky strands atop his head as he licks me long and slow. Then faster and faster. And faster still. "Oh god, Connor, please..."
He looks up at me, those storm eyes molten, and I can feel myself tightening around his fingers, my body trembling with the force of my impending orgasm.
"Let go, sweetheart," he commands, the tip of his skilled tongue flicking against my clit. "Come for me."
It is all the command my body could ever need.
I come, my body jerking into several spasms that have me holding onto Connor for dear life. And through it all, he stays with me.
His tongue and hard hands and smooth fingertips work me through my orgasm. Until at last, I collapse against the counter into a heap.
A boneless, moaning, satisfied heap.
A heap that Connor smiles at, as he stands to his feet, his tall frame towering over mine.
I can’t help it. I pull him to me, kissing him deeply. I can taste my climax on his lips, and the evidence of it makes me slicker than I ever thought possible.
I swallow, trying to keep my core from shaking.
“I’m sorry,” I gasp out. “I was just trying to say thank you at first.”
“Well,” he grins. “That was my version of ‘you’re welcome’.”
My phone buzzes again, breaking the moment.
LILY: FAMILY DINNER EMERGENCY!!!
LILY: Dad's making his "experimental" lasagna again
LILY: Code red! I repeat, CODE RED
LILY: Also why aren't you answering your phone? You better not be stress-cleaning to Kenny G again
I groan, dropping my forehead to Connor's chest. “It’s Lily. My little sister. Texting about my dad. Lately, he’s been on this self-sufficiency kick since his kidney transplant. He’s been wanting to make his own food, and his experiments haven’t been going so well.”
“Ah, I see.” He eyes me, nudging my nose with his. “Still want to argue me down about that ‘loving’ thing?”
I release a snort. “I don’t know. I just know that I have to?—"
"Go." He presses a kiss to my hair. "Save your family from experimental Italian food."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be." He tilts my chin up. "Though we should probably discuss this... whatever this is."
"Probably." I straighten his collar where I'd grabbed it. "Over dinner maybe? Tomorrow?"
His smile is worth every interrupted moment. "It's a date."
"A professional date?"
"Not even close."
He leaves me standing in my kitchen, wine forgotten, lips tingling, and absolutely everything I thought I knew about professional boundaries completely destroyed.