Chapter 16 Connor
CONNOR
The villa’s finally quieting down after a long night of card games, more drinks than I can count with both hands, and copious amounts of local chocolate. Laughter finally thins to a low murmur behind closed doors and the clink of glasses against marble countertops.
I’ve been lying on top of the covers on my bed, staring at the ceiling long enough to know sleep’s not happening tonight.
Just like eighty percent of the nights the past few months.
My phone is face-down on the nightstand, buzzing every so often with the reminders I keep ignoring—two missed calls and three texts from my parents, all variations of call us back or don’t forget to meet with so-and-so in Zurich before the wedding—their most recent attempt to line up a bigger and better job offer that will give me a bigger and better status.
I can’t. Not right now. I’ll see them in a few days at the wedding, and we’ll go through the usual performance—me nodding, them criticizing, everyone pretending that being passive-aggressive is something normal. For now, I want quiet.
From my window I can see the edge of the pool—flat and dark except for the soft blue wash from the lights. And her.
Manuela is on a lounger, legs stretched long, a towel under her and her hair down from that messy bun she was wearing after dinner.
Someone left three stubby candles on the little table; they gutter and throw short shadows across her calves.
She tips her head back and exhales like she’s trying to breathe the day out.
Like finally being alone relaxes her. It’s worse now, I think, the way her body betrays her and gives all the signs of her being uncomfortable.
She’s been the same way since I met her at the engagement party—sitting at the edge of the conversation and simply watching, a polite smile slapped on her face.
I tell myself I’m going down for water. My feet already know better.
The deck is warm through my socks. I keep it casual—hands in pockets, slow steps.
“Couldn’t sleep?” I say.
She turns her head and gives me a lazy smile. “Not even a little.”
I sit on the chaise lounge beside her. Close but not crowding her. The pool filter hums. A breeze lifts the edge of her towel and drops it again.
“These days are… long,” she says, eyes on the water. “Not bad long. Just, like… a lot, you know? And I know we still have, what, ten more?”
“Something like that,” I say, resting my arms behind my head and looking at the starless sky. It feels cool, the breeze bringing in a slight mountain chill. “Feels like we’ve packed a week into forty-eight hours.”
She huffs, amused and tired at once. “You okay after dinner?”
I lift a shoulder casually. I don’t know what she’s asking of me—if I’m okay after having to endure that much or if I’m okay after that little scene in the butler’s pantry, hidden in plain sight from the other people in the group. “I’ve had worse. You?”
“We mainly talked about the outfits everyone is wearing for the next few days.” She tilts a hand. “I’ll survive.”
Silence settles. Not awkward—I don’t think it’s ever been awkward around her. But it definitely feels charged, like maybe we are both thinking about the same thing and pretending not to.
“The kitchen—”
“Manu,” I say at the same time.
Her mouth curves, and she shifts on the chaise, moving slightly backwards but facing me. We grin at the same time. It breaks the tension and tightens it.
I shift closer. “You sure?”
“Yes,” she says, like it’s obvious. “But, umm…”
I don’t wait for her to finish her thought, and instead, I kiss her. Slow, first, like we’re easing into a pool. She sighs against my mouth and slides a hand to the back of my neck. The second kiss is not slow. She opens her mouth for me, and I forget all the reasons to pace myself.
“Someone can definitely see us,” she murmurs, not moving away. She smiles against my mouth, like the thought is egging her on or even amusing her to no end, so I press closer. “If I can see the pool from my room, the others can too.”
“We’ll be quiet,” I say, already failing at being rational.
“Promise?” It’s teasing and a little not.
“Try me.”
We tip sideways onto her lounger. It’s narrow, so we have to contort our bodies to make ourselves fit; one of her legs wraps around my hip, and my hand finds her waist to pull her closer against my body.
She makes a sound I feel all the way down to my hardening cock.
I kiss the corner of her mouth, the edge of her jaw.
She tangles her fingers in my hair and pulls, gentle, like she wants me exactly where I am.
I breathe her in: mountain air, shampoo, and the faintest trace of her perfume from dinner. The villa lights throw soft stripes over her collarbone, and I choose to put my mouth there as she tilts her chin up, a generous move that gives me more to work with.
Manuela’s hand finds the front of my shirt and fists. The other drifts lower, over my stomach, resting there for a beat like she’s asking without words. I hold her gaze and nod once.
Her palm slides under the waistband of my sweatpants—slow, steady, like she plans to take her time with me. My breath stutters, and she smiles against my mouth, an indication she’s loving this.
“Shh,” she says, barely there. “You’re going to get us caught.”
“You started this,” I whisper.
“Did I?” Her fingers wrap around me, sure now.
My head tips back, and I bite the inside of my cheek to try not to swear loud enough to wake the whole villa.
She kisses me while she strokes, long, teasing passes that make staying quiet a losing game.
I anchor my hand on her thigh, squeeze when she swirls her wrist, and I almost forget where we are.
“Manu,” I try to say, but instead a needy fucking whimper comes out, and she gasps. She’s definitely on to me, how desperate I am for touch—for her touch.
Upstairs, a door slides. Voices. Her hand stills but doesn’t move away.
She looks at me, and there’s mischief all over her blue eyes. “Tell me if you want to stop,” she whispers.
I should. God, I should. My whole body is one live wire under her hand, but there’s a voice in my head, louder than the risk or the want, that says I don’t want this to be just about me.
I catch her wrist gently, just enough pressure to make her pause. Her brows pull together, like she’s trying to read me.
“I don’t want to stop,” I say, and I mean it. “I just…” My voice comes out rough. “Let me.”
She blinks, surprised, but she eases her hand back, resting it over my chest like she’s grounding me there.
I slide mine down her thigh, fingers curling under the edge of her swimsuit bottoms. The heat of her hits me instantly, and my pulse kicks harder.
She’s warm and wet and ready, and suddenly, I feel so ravenous, hungry for more.
I lean in, my forehead brushing hers. “You have no idea what you do to me,” I murmur. It’s not a line. It’s by far the truest thing I’ve said in a while.
Her lips part, but whatever she was going to say dissolves into a gasp when I touch her clit. I keep my eyes on her face, memorizing every flicker, how her lashes lower, her mouth goes soft and open, how she bites her lip like she’s trying to keep quiet but can’t manage it entirely.
“You need to be quiet, baby,” I whisper in her ear, and there’s a whole body shiver that runs through, head to toe. “Can I use my fingers?”
She nods.
Every shift of her hips against my hand pulls me deeper into her rhythm. I want to be inside her so badly it’s a physical ache, but there’s something about having her like this, falling apart under me with my fingers, that’s undoing me in a way I didn’t plan for.
“Are you going to come for me, pretty girl?” I kiss her forehead, her temple, and down her cheek until I get to the corner of her mouth, waiting there for her to give me more.
Her breath hitches, her nails curl into my shirt, and I feel her starting to lose control. I kiss her to muffle the sound, swallowing it like it’s mine to keep. She comes with a sharp, quiet gasp against my mouth, her whole body going tense before melting into me.
I pull back just enough to drag my fingers slowly past my lips, tasting her deliberately, letting her see me do it. Her eyes go wide, her chest still rising and falling in quick bursts. The flicker of want that flashes across her face nearly undoes me.
I should stop here. I should breathe, regroup, let her have this without taking more. Maybe drag her into my bed and keep her there, warm and boneless against me. But I’m too far gone to be able to do any of that. Watching her like that, feeling her like that, has me right on the edge.
I keep my hand at her hip, holding her close, while the rest of me tips over.
No stroke or touch from her but the intensity of being here with her, the taste of her still on my tongue, the sound of her breathing unevenly in my ear.
Heat slams through me, and I bury myself against her neck, biting back a groan as I come hard in my pants.
We stay tangled there, breathless. My heartbeat is in my ears, hers is under my palm. I press my mouth to her shoulder, not kissing but… lingering.
When I finally pull back enough to see her face, she’s smiling in this soft, almost shy way that kills me. Like she knows exactly what just happened but isn’t going to say it out loud.
“Connor,” she says, a breathless laugh threatening to come to the surface. “Did you…?”
“Worth it,” I answer, and it comes out like a vow.