Chapter 4
CONNER
Icouldn't take my eyes off her.
Kameron slumped back against the wall, her skin flushed from the crown of her head down to where her hand still rested inside those simple cotton panties. Her lips were parted as she caught her breath, a soft sheen of sweat glistening on her collarbone.
God, she was stunning—like a painting come to life, all soft curves and vulnerability mixed with that unexpected fire.
Her thighs trembled slightly, still spread on the edge of the desk, and I could see the damp spot on her panties from here, evidence of how wet she'd gotten just from touching herself.
My cock throbbed in my hand, aching for her, but I held back, savoring the view. This woman, this stranger who'd confessed her secrets to me in the middle of a blizzard, had just come right in front of me. And I wanted more. All of her.
Her eyes fluttered open, those deep brown depths locking onto mine. For a second, she looked dazed, almost shy again, but then a small, wicked smile curved her lips. "Come here," she whispered, her voice husky and low, careful not to carry beyond the thin walls of the office.
I didn't need to be asked twice.
I crossed the cramped room in two long strides, my hand still wrapped around my cock, stroking once more just to feel the edge of it as I stepped between her legs.
Her thighs parted wider to make room for me, brushing against my hips, and up close, I could smell her—musk and sweetness, intoxicating.
But then reality hit like a bucket of ice water. No condom.
Shit.
I froze, tip brushing her through the fabric, my brain scrambling for how to say it without killing the moment.
She must've read it on my face, because she shook her head slightly, her hand reaching up to cup my jaw. "It's okay," she murmured. "I'm on birth control."
Relief flooded me, hot and fast, and I let out a ragged sigh.
But even as it hit, something twisted inside—deeper, primal.
For the first time in my life, the idea of not pulling out, of filling her completely, didn't scare me.
Hell, it excited me. I imagined it vividly—spilling inside her, claiming her, watching her belly swell with my child months from now.
Us, tangled up in something real and permanent.
My cock hardened impossibly more, twitching in my grip, and the possessiveness surging through me shocked the hell out of me. I wanted her like I'd never wanted anyone—mine, in every way. But first things first.
I hooked my fingers into the waistband of her panties and tugged them down, slow enough to tease us both. She lifted her hips to help, and as the fabric slid away, I got my first full look at her—pink and glistening, swollen from her own touch.
Beautiful.
I dropped to my knees between her legs, the floor hard against my shins, but I didn't care. Leaning in, I dragged my tongue through her folds, tasting her sweetness, salty and warm.
She gasped, a muffled "Oh God" that she bit back, her hand flying to her mouth to stifle it. I worked her with my mouth—circling her clit, dipping inside, sucking gently—watching her face the whole time.
Her eyes squeezed shut again, brows furrowing in pleasure, and I saw her reach behind her back, unclasping her bra with trembling fingers.
It fell away, revealing perfect, full breasts, nipples already peaked and hard.
She cupped them, thumbs brushing over the tips, pinching lightly as she arched into my mouth.
Sighs escaped her—whimpered breaths, quiet moans she tried to swallow, aware of the empty diner just beyond the door but too lost to care.
"Conner… yes… like that," she whispered, her voice breaking on a gasp.
I didn't stop until she gasped, her thighs clamping around my ears, body shuddering as she came on my tongue. Her fingers twisted in my hair, pulling just enough to sting, and those muted cries—high and breathy—filled the room like music.
When her tremors eased, I stood, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, my cock straining toward her. I positioned the tip at her entrance, slick and ready, and met her gaze. "I'll go slow," I promised, voice rough with need. "Tell me if it hurts."
She nodded, but then her eyes softened. "Kiss me first."
The words hit me like a spark. We hadn't even kissed yet—she'd come twice, opened herself up to me in ways I could barely process—and here we were, on the edge.
I leaned in, capturing her mouth with mine. It was electric, instant fire—her lips soft and yielding, tasting like coffee and desire. Our tongues met, slow at first, then deeper, hungrier, as if we'd been waiting for this all night.
As the kiss built, she wrapped her legs around my waist, heels digging into my back, and pulled me forward. I slid into her—just the tip at first—and she gasped against my mouth, a sharp intake of breath laced with pain.
"Wait," I said, pulling back slightly, though every instinct screamed to thrust deeper. "Easy, baby. We've got time."
We went slow after that, inch by inch, her tightness gripping me like a vice, hot and perfect.
She reached between us, fingers circling her clit again, and I watched it all—her hand moving in tight little strokes, breasts bouncing gently with each shallow thrust, nipples dark and begging.
I ran my thumbs over them, rolling and pinching, drawing out those quiet, desperate sounds from her throat, her teeth sinking into her lower lip to muffle them.
"God, you're so tight," I growled low, keeping my voice hushed but filthy. "So wet for me. Look at you, taking my cock like you were made for it. You're fucking beautiful, Kameron—every inch of you."
Her eyes locked on mine, hazy with lust, skin flushed and glowing under the dim office light.
She moved with me, hips rocking tentatively at first, then bolder, her free hand clutching my shoulder, nails biting in.
The sounds between us were intimate, subdued—the wet slide of our bodies, her ragged breaths mixing with my groans, all of it whispering against the storm outside.
She came first, just like I wanted—her inner walls pulsing around me, a choked cry escaping as she arched, fingers frantic on her clit. "Conner… oh fuck… yes…"
That sent me over the edge. I thrust deep one last time, burying myself inside her as the orgasm hit—powerful, blinding, ripping through me like nothing I'd ever felt. A low groan tore from my throat, muffled against her neck, my body shuddering as wave after wave emptied me.
When it finally faded, I stayed there a moment, forehead pressed to hers, both of us panting. Regret hit soft but sure—we weren't in a bed, tangled under blankets where I could hold her close and drift off with her in my arms. That wouldn’t happen tonight, unfortunately.
"Get dressed," I said, pulling out with a reluctant groan. "Come out when you're ready." I stepped back, grabbing my clothes from the floor and tugging them on quickly—boxers, pants, shirt—before slipping out the door.
The dining room was still empty, the blizzard howling outside like it had no intention of stopping. I headed to one of the bigger booths in the corner—the kind with cushioned benches long enough to stretch out on.
I grabbed some spare tablecloths from the storage closet—clean, soft enough to makeshift a bed—and layered them over the seat, making the bench something she could curl up on.
The office door creaked open a few minutes later. Kameron stepped out, fully dressed again, her hair finger-combed back into some semblance of order. She looked softer now, the sharp edges of her manager persona smoothed away.
When she saw what I'd done with the booth, she stopped. "What's this?"
"Best I could do." I gestured toward the makeshift bed. "Not exactly the Ritz, but the cushions are decent. You should get some sleep."
She walked over slowly, trailing her fingers along the edge of the tablecloth. "What about you?"
"I'll keep watch." I nodded toward the booth across from hers. "Someone needs to stay up in case we get visitors. Might as well be me."
For a moment, I thought she'd argue. That stubborn streak I'd seen earlier—the one that insisted on handling everything herself—flickered in her eyes. But exhaustion won out. She sank onto the cushioned bench, tucking her legs up and settling her head on the folded tablecloth pillow.
"This is actually pretty comfortable," she admitted, sounding surprised.
"Don't sound so shocked. I'm full of good ideas."
A small smile tugged at her lips. "One good idea doesn't make you full of them."
"Guess I'll have to keep proving myself."
She didn't respond to that, just pulled another tablecloth over herself like a blanket and closed her eyes. I settled into the booth across from her, angling myself so I could see both the front windows and her face.
The storm hadn't let up. Snow still swirled past the glass, thick and relentless, and the wind made the building creak and groan like an old ship. But inside, everything was quiet. Warm. Safe.
I watched her breathing slow as sleep pulled her under. The tension in her shoulders eased, her lips parting slightly, one hand curled beneath her chin. She looked younger like this. Unguarded. The woman behind the clipboard and the careful walls.
Something shifted in my chest. Not the sharp, sudden impact from earlier—this was deeper. Quieter. A settling, like puzzle pieces clicking into place.
I'd spent years avoiding anything that looked like commitment. Keeping things light, easy, no strings attached. The guys on the crew had their running jokes about my love life, and I'd always laughed along because it was easier than explaining that I'd never met anyone worth getting serious about.
But watching Kameron sleep in a snowbound roadhouse, wrapped in tablecloths, trusting me enough to let her guard down—I knew. This was it. She was it.
The thought should have terrified me. A few hours ago, we'd barely exchanged more than drink orders. Now I was imagining a future with her—something real and permanent—and it didn't feel rushed or crazy. It felt inevitable. Like I'd been waiting for her without knowing it.
The problem was, I had no idea if she felt the same way. What happened in that office could have been the storm, the isolation, the strange intimacy of being snowed in together. A one-time thing she'd regret in the morning.
I couldn't let that happen.
I didn't know exactly how to convince her that this was more than just a blizzard hookup. That I wanted to know everything about her—not just how she looked when she came, but how she took her coffee in the morning, what made her laugh, what kept her up at night. All of it.
But I'd figure it out. I had to. This wasn't the end of something. It was the beginning.