Chapter 20 #2
“Then be quiet,” he said with a wicked grin that promised trouble, his hands moving to his own jeans with the same efficiency he'd shown on mine. The sound of his zipper was loud in the quiet kitchen, followed by the rustle of denim as he shoved his jeans down just far enough.
Then he was against me, hard and ready and perfect, and I forgot about time constraints, arriving guests, and everything except the feel of him and the fact that we were absolutely going to get caught doing this.
“Connor,” I breathed his name as he positioned himself, one hand braced on the table beside my head, the other guiding himself to where I was already embarrassingly ready for him.
He pushed inside in one smooth thrust that made us both groan—him with satisfaction, me with the kind of pleasure that made my back arch off the table and my legs tighten around his waist like I was trying to keep him there forever.
“God, Harper,” Connor breathed against my neck, his hips already moving in a rhythm that was fast and urgent, exactly what we both needed. “You feel so good.”
There was no slow build this time, no leisurely exploration like we had all day.
This was fast, desperate, and raw in the best possible way.
Connor moved inside me with powerful thrusts that made the table creak beneath us loud enough that I briefly worried about the structural integrity of the table before deciding I didn't care, and my hands clutched at him, both of us chasing release with single-minded focus.
“Touch yourself,” Connor commanded, his voice rough and commanding. “I want to feel you come around me.”
My hand slid between our bodies, finding where we were joined, and the first touch made me cry out way too loud when people could arrive any minute.
Connor's hand covered my mouth, muffling the sounds I couldn't control. “Quiet, sweetheart. Can't let anyone hear how good I'm making you feel. That's just for me.”
The command, the possessiveness, the way he kept moving inside me while keeping me quiet with his hand—it was too much. My body tensed, coiled tight like a spring, and then I was falling apart, coming hard around him while he swallowed my cries with his palm.
Connor groaned, deep and guttural, and then he was there too, his hips stuttering, his whole body going rigid as he spilled inside me. His face pressed into my neck, his breath hot and ragged against my skin.
We stayed like that for a long moment, both breathing hard, hearts racing, the kitchen smelling like sex and coffee and the faint scent of bacon from breakfast. Reality was probably going to come crashing back any second now, but for this moment I just let myself feel satisfied and loved and thoroughly debauched on Connor's kitchen table.
Then reality did crash back.
“We just had sex on your kitchen table,” I said, my voice equal parts stunned and amused.
“We did.” Connor lifted his head to look at me, and his grin was pure male satisfaction. “And we have about twenty minutes before people start showing up, so we should probably get cleaned up.”
He pulled out carefully, both of us wincing slightly at the loss of contact, and helped me sit up. My legs felt like jelly, my body loose and sated and completely wrung out.
Connor grabbed paper towels from the roll on the counter, wetting them under the sink before coming back to clean me up with gentle, thorough strokes. The intimacy of it, of him taking care of me like this, made my chest tight.
When we were both presentable, me in fresh jeans from the laundry basket Connor kept in the mudroom, him in a clean shirt from upstairs, we worked together to wipe down the kitchen table. Making it look like we definitely hadn't just defiled it in the middle of the day.
“So,” I said as I sprayed cleaner across the surface, trying for casualness and probably failing. “What was that about? Not that I'm complaining, but that was—”
“Spontaneous?” Connor finished, coming up behind me to wrap his arms around my waist again.
This time his touch was gentle, affectionate rather than urgent.
“I don't know. Hearing about Jaxon proposing, thinking about them starting that next chapter together,” he paused, his lips finding my temple again.
“It made me think about the future. About my future. With you.”
My hands stilled on the table. “Connor—”
“I'm not proposing,” he said quickly, and I felt him smile against my hair.
“We've only been together a month. I know it's too soon. But Harper,” his arms tightened.
“When I think about my future now, you're in every part of it. Every. Single. Part. And hearing that Jaxon found someone he wants to spend forever with, someone who makes him happy enough to take that leap, it made me happy. It made me think about how lucky I am that I have that too.”
Tears pricked at my eyes. Happy tears, the kind that came from being overwhelmed by love and gratitude. “I love you,” I whispered, turning in his arms to face him. “Connor Whitaker, I love you so much it scares me sometimes.”
“Good.” He kissed me softly, sweetly, with none of the urgency from before. Just tenderness and promises. “Because I love you too. And one day I'm going to ask you to marry me. And I really hope you say yes.”
“I will,” I said without hesitation. “Whenever you ask, whatever you ask, the answer is yes.”
His smile was brilliant, almost bright enough to rival the sun streaming through the kitchen windows.
“Good to know. But until then,” he glanced at the clock on the microwave.
“We have about five minutes before people start showing up.
Think we can make the kitchen look like we weren't just having sex on the table?”
I laughed, swatting at his chest. “Pretty sure we already did that. But maybe we should air it out? Light a candle?”
“Good idea.” Connor was already moving toward the candles I'd bought weeks ago. He lit one, setting it on the counter, and within moments the kitchen smelled less like sex and more like a cozy Saturday morning.
We finished cleaning, working in comfortable silence interrupted by occasional kisses and stolen touches.
This was what I loved most about being with Connor.
Not just the passion and the intensity, but this.
The easy domesticity. The teamwork. The way we moved around each other like we'd been doing it for years instead of months.
By the time engines sounded in the driveway, everything was in order. The kitchen was clean, we were dressed and presentable, and no one would know what we'd been doing twenty minutes ago unless we told them.
Which we definitely wouldn't, because I valued my dignity and also didn't want to make eye contact with Felix ever again.
“Ready?” Connor asked, his hand finding mine and lacing our fingers together.
“Ready.” I squeezed back. “Though we should probably act surprised when they come back. Can't let on that we know about the proposal.”
“Right. Surprised. I can do surprised.” But his grin said he was going to have a hard time keeping the secret, and honestly so was I.
Felix walked in first without knocking, followed by Denny and Jim who headed straight for the fridge and grabbed beers despite it being barely noon. They made themselves at home the way they always did on Saturdays, sprawling across Connor's furniture like they paid rent.
“Where's Jaxon?” Felix asked, looking around like Jaxon might be hiding behind the couch. “Thought he'd be here already.”
“Trail ride with Anna,” Connor said easily, his voice giving nothing away. “They'll be back later.”
“Ah. Romantic.” Felix wiggled his eyebrows suggestively in a way that made me want to throw something at him. “Good for them.”
If only you knew, I thought, fighting back a smile that would give everything away.
More people filtered in over the next thirty minutes—ranch hands with dirt under their fingernails and easy smiles, a few of Connor's friends from town who worked at the feed store and their wives, even Mrs. Patterson who'd brought a homemade pie and insisted on helping me prep side dishes even though I'd told her she didn't need to.
Connor fired up the grill outside, the smell of charcoal and lighter fluid mixing with spring air in a way that screamed summer weekends and normal life.
Someone turned on country music and Chester wove between people's legs like a furry vacuum cleaner, collecting pets and treats and generally being the best dog in the world.
This was normal. A Saturday afternoon with friends and food and laughter and the kind of peace I'd been too afraid to believe in for too long.
Except it wasn't normal. Because somewhere out on Connor's property, Jaxon was on one knee asking Anna to marry him, and when they came back everything would change in the best possible way.
I caught Connor's eye across the yard where he stood with Felix and Denny, beer in hand, laughing at something Jim had said. He winked at me, and I felt that familiar flutter in my chest—the one that said I was in trouble, the good kind, the kind that came from being completely and utterly in love.
One day, he'd said. One day I'm going to ask you to marry me.
And I'd meant what I'd said. The answer would be yes. Today, tomorrow, a year from now. Whenever he asked, the answer would always be yes.
I just hoped we'd survive whatever was coming long enough to get there.
An hour later, I was helping Mrs. Patterson carry potato salad to the outdoor table Connor had set up when I heard the sound of hooves on the path leading from the barn. The distinctive rhythm of horses walking, their riders returning from wherever they'd gone.
My heart leaped into my throat, excitement bubbling up so fast I almost dropped the bowl.
“They're back,” I whispered to Connor, who was manning the grill with the focused intensity of a man who took his meat very seriously.