“You did,” she agrees and bites her bottom lip. I wonder if she’s thinking about my comment of what I’d eat for breakfast, and the blush she gives me right then says she is.
“Come on then, put on my shirt.” I fix my boxers and climb out of bed to grab the shirt I gave her from last night. I hold it out for her and help her put it on, then inspect her knees. “Looks like they’re healing.” I kiss the top of each of them before I hold out my hand for her to come with me.
“What, I don’t get carried anymore?” she teases, and then she squeals when I yank her out of bed and throw her over my shoulder.
She struggles when I slap her across the ass and then bite it. “That mouth of yours is going to get you into trouble, little duck.”
“Promises, promises,” she giggles, and I shake my head as I carry her down the stairs.
“Sit your cute ass right here and watch me cook,” I order, placing her on the long bench at the island. “Do you want waffles or waffles?”
“Hmm.” She pretends to think it over. “How about waffles?”
“Coming right up.”
There’s never been a time in my life where I had a woman here at the big house or even cooked breakfast for one. Suddenly I’m playful and teasing like never before, and I’m beginning to wonder who the hell I am, and where did the real Connor go? Maybe this has been the real me all along and it took me finally finding Evie to see it. There’s a place inside of me that knows that she’s the one, but how do I tell her that without sending her running for the hills? Maybe she thinks this is a fun way for her to lose her V-card and have a weekend getaway, but it’s not for me.
“Hey, why do you suddenly look so upset?” she says from behind me, and I hadn’t realized I’d shown any outside emotion while my thoughts began to spiral.
“How long are you planning on staying?”
She looks stricken as she glances around the room then back at me. “I mean, I can go now if you want—”
“No!” I say a little too loudly as I stop what I’m doing and walk around the island. “That’s not what I mean. I was only wondering how much time I’ve got until you leave me.”
Phrasing it that way seems desperate and sad, but I don’t give a fuck.
“Oh.” Her expression changes to one of happiness as she cups my cheek. “I’m not exactly sure.”
Just then there’s a knock on the door, and we both turn to face the front of the house.
“I’m going to put some clothes on.”
I have no clue who might be at the door, but it’s more than clear what Connor and I have been up to. I can still smell him all over me. My thighs are wet from both of our releases, and again my body starts to heat. What’s wrong with me? Connor has flipped a switch that doesn’t want to go off.
I still can’t believe what we did. I was so sure I was going to wake up and it would be some crazy hot dream. Connor was too good to be true and so unlike any man I’ve ever met before.
The second the knock sounded at the door, Connor’s hand had come out to rest on my stomach, and he pulled me back a bit. There was no missing the possessiveness of his touch. Did he think someone might be here to take me from him? The way he’s acting, that's not going to be happening.
He scared the crap out of me for a second when he asked about how long I’ll be staying. Over the years when I’d get moved around, sometimes there would be a pang of disappointment that the family I’d been staying with hadn’t wanted me to stay longer. Eventually I’d get over it, but it never got easier.
With Connor, it was a stab to my chest thinking he was counting down to when I was leaving and that he was ready for me to go. Now I know he’s dreading that day as much as I am.
It did slap me back to reality even with his claiming words that he wasn’t trying to get rid of me. I realized how attached I’d become and that there’s an end date looming on this trip. The sharp pain I felt at the thought of Connor not wanting me or of me leaving him was far too intense. More so than it should be for the short time I’ve known him.
“I like you in my clothes,” he says slowly, as if we’ve got all the time in the world.