Chapter 32 #2
“Ooh, you’re not even going to ease me in?” When he doesn’t answer, I put down my fork and take a sip of wine for courage. I may need a second glass if this is his line of questioning. Or a bottle. “I loved Rhys. We were together for years. It was comfortable and easy most of the time.”
“And?”
Damn. I was hoping to just leave it at that.
“And I know my worth. I knew I was lucky to have someone like him want me.”
“You weren’t lucky at all, Tilly. He didn’t deserve you. From what I can tell, he was awful to you. It makes me sick that you put up with him for so long.”
Connor’s fist curls with anger on the table, so I reach out and take his hand in mine. “Is that how you got these?” I ask quietly, running my thumb along the broken skin of his knuckles. “By getting angry with him over me?”
“Is that your official question?” He grips my hand and brings it to his lips.
“Yes. What happened the other day when you went to get my stuff?”
Connor doesn’t answer immediately. Sensing he needs time to choose his words, I let him kiss my knuckles, my palm, while I wait patiently.
“He said some things that… I don’t like the way he speaks to you or about you. I’m not a violent person, Tilly, honestly, I’m not.” His pleading eyes are begging me to believe him.
Of course, I do. I give him a reassuring smile and squeeze his hand.
“But he crossed a line, and I saw red. I punched him – think it landed on his jaw. He thought about hitting me back, I could tell, but stormed off instead.”
“He knew the better man won.” This earns me another kiss on my hand.
“And you’re my prize. I’m the luckiest man in the world.”
This time, I kiss him. I kiss each of his bruised knuckles and lean across the table to kiss his soft lips. When I pull away, the calm has returned to Connor’s eyes, so I push a little further.
“What did he say that pushed you that far?”
“Let me answer that question with my own. What happened that night you both came to The Nightingale?”
I feel the stabbing pain of panic in my chest and the dull ache of guilt in my stomach. It’s an awful feeling – one star, would not recommend.
“I didn’t know we were going there until the last minute, I swear.” I rush the words out, tears filling my eyes.
“Baby, it’s okay,” he coos, pulling his chair closer to mine so he can stroke my hair. “I wasn’t accusing you of anything. I’ve just heard his version, and I want to hear the truth.”
“Okay.” I take a breath. “He told me we were going out for dinner and to dress nicely, so I went to get ready. When he came upstairs… He told me my knickers were ruining the dress, and he took them off me.”
I look away from Connor’s face, finding the fresh anger bubbling under the surface too much to handle. Especially as I’m partly to blame.
Stupid, stupid, stupid!
“When we got there, Rhys put his hand up my dress and started to… touch me. I told him not to, I tried to push his hand away, but then you appeared and… I don’t know.
He must have been enjoying the thrill of it, because he kept going.
He stopped once you left, and he pretty much ignored me for the rest of the meal.
” When Connor doesn’t respond, I add, “Is that what Rhys told you?”
“No,” Connor grinds out. “It isn’t. In his deranged version, you begged him to touch you in front of me.”
“I didn’t, I swear…!” Tears pool in my eyes again, but Connor brushes them away gently.
“I know, baby. He was just trying to get a rise out of me. And it worked, the conniving bastard. But he did admit to taking you there on purpose, knowing I’d be there. He was trying to send a message. That you were his.” His teeth clamp together so tightly I see the muscles in his jaw tense.
“But I’m not,” I say, cradling his jaw in my hand. “I’m not his. I’m yours.”
Before I can protest due to my fear of crushing him, Connor pulls me out of my chair and onto his lap. His fingers dive into my hair, and he pulls my face to his, our mouths meeting in a kiss that gives me tingles everywhere.
Still, my concern for the health of his legs overrides the throbbing sensation between mine, and I try to stand. Connor’s arm locks tighter around me, pinning me down.
“Say it again and I’ll let you go,” he says between kisses.
“I’m yours.” I smile as he tilts my head so he can kiss my neck. “I’m yours for as long as you’ll put up with me.”
“I have no intention of ever letting you go, Tilly.”
We’ll see.
Though I fully believe that either Connor will come to his senses or I’ll do something to fuck this up, I make the decision to make the most of it and enjoy my time with Connor while I can.
I turn my head and catch his lips with mine once more, running my hands over his chest as I deepen the kiss.
He groans in response and moans when I pull away.
This time, he lets me stand, and I reclaim my own seat.
We continue our meal with our hands laced together, so we eat one-handed.
I can’t help but look at him between every bite and marvel at how lucky I am to be with him, even if it only ends up being for a short time.
He’s kind, thoughtful, funny and smoulderingly hot.
How did I not realise how perfect he is before this week?
“I have my last question,” I say, breaking the silence. “You used to be a dick to me.”
Connor winces. “That’s not technically a question.”
“I thought you hated me all these years.”
“Still not a question, baby.” He smirks at me, but his eyes don’t match it.
“Why did you treat me like that if you’ve liked me all this time?”
His eyes shut briefly and he runs a hand over his face.
“It’s okay,” I say, trying to backpedal. “I’m not upset about it or anything…”