Page 50 of Our Secret Moments

“How are you feeling?” he asks me, ignoring my plea. Fine. Maybe engaging in conversation will get him to leave my room quicker and get him out before anyone sees him.

“Better,” I say. Last night was rough. I know better than that. It was either drinking until I could see stars or allowing myself to sit with my mind and my feelings. Both options were as overwhelming as the other, but the former felt less lonely. “Sober,” I clarify.

He just nods at me before shifting out of my lap and sitting beside me, a little more awake than before. His huge, veiny hand finds its way on to my thigh, his thumb stroking circles on my inner thigh.

He always seems too comfortable when he’s with me and I feel the same with him. As much as I’ve had crushes on him that came and went, I didn’t think that I’d ever end up with him in my bed.

He’s Connor Bailey, he could have anyone he wants to, but for some reason he’s been stuck to me, tethered to me for a while and I’m afraid to get rid of him.

“Aren’t you worried that your sister will see you, or know that you spent the night?” I ask, needing some sort of excuse. I turn to him, but his eyes are already on me.

He shrugs. “Not really.”

“Really? I don’t even know what happened myself, she’s going to be more confused than me,” I say, shaking my head at the thought of what could happen if she saw him like this. How in the hell is he so calm? My pulse is racing for no reason other than the fact that he’sthisclose to me, and is inmybed.

“Has anyone ever told you how cute of a drunk you are?” he asks, his voice rough. I just blink at him, sucking in a breath so I don’t run out of air. His hand moves up my thigh, hardly even half an inch. “You were rambling, talking about things you would never say to me sober.”

“What was I saying?” I ask, half of me afraid to hear the answer. His hand moves higher again. The skin-to-skin contact combined with the size of his hand makes my stomach dip.

“I learned some very important things last night, Catherine,” he whispers, his hand moving higher. What’s worse is that he’s not looking at me. Instead, he’s looking right where his hand is while I watch it move up further, not wanting him to stop. He doesn’t have to see how much he’s affecting me. He canfeelit.

“Connor,” I whisper, not sure what for. His hand slips under my shorts, the heat of his thumb coming dangerously close to my panties.

My heart might fall out of my chest.

Everything feels too good when it comes to him – so new. Nothing else is able to come out of my mouth as his hand reaches the apex of my thighs. I try my hardest not to clench my legs together, to keep holding out as long as I can, but the second his head falls to my neck, I know I’m a goner.

He presses a long kiss to my collarbone which is flushed with heat, silently begging for the sexual frustration to be worked out of me. My hands have nothing to do. They close into fists before smoothing out again and I eventually grab his shirt, needing some sort of stability as his mouth works wonders on my sensitive skin.

“It confirmed to me what you were trying to deny in the hot tub,” Connor whispers, grazing his teeth against my neck. A soft whimper escapes my throat at the contact, causing shivers to spread all over my body. “You want me just as badly as I want you.”

I can’t deny him. How could I?

My hand is literally twisted into his shirt right now, desperately trying to keep him close to me. It’s been obvious since day one.

It was clear when I teased him on purpose during the first round of interviews. I knew that I wanted him when he was vulnerable with me and asked me for help. I knew it when he listened to me, took care of me and he let me do the same for him. I knew that I wanted to taste him, to feel him, when he pushed me against the wall at Oliver’s house.

I think I knew it a long time ago and I was too afraid to admit it because Connor Bailey manages to be the sweetest, funniest, sexiest person I know without even trying and it pisses me off just as much as it intrigues me.

He’s managed to trip me up more than once, leaving me speechless yet silently begging for more, which is why I get theconfidence I need to surprise him for once, to make it clear that I want this, that I wanthim.

His voice is low and thick, every nerve in my body heightened as he presses his lips to the shell of my ear. “So, I’m going to give you one chance to tell me if you want me – if you want this – because I’m so sick of waiting, Cat.”

I turn to him, finally getting him exactly where I want him, his nose brushes against mine, his mouth only a breath away. I don’t waste any more time before I press my hands onto his broad shoulders and climb into his lap, my body fitting perfectly with his just like it did in the hot tub. Except this time, I know exactly what I want.

A satisfied groan leaves him when my hips roll into his accidentally as I try to make myself comfortable. Instantly, his hands find my waist, gently squeezing. He cocks his head to the side playfully. “You going to tell me, or what?”

“How about I show you instead?”

He hums happily, crushing my chest to his. “That’s my girl.”

My chest warms at the praise, and I finally press my lips to his, stealing the taste I’ve been so desperate for. Connor tastes just as I expected. He tastes like he was made for me – fresh, soft, slightly like vanilla, yet wholly masculine and strong. His lips fight over mine, tasting, branding, claiming and I let him.

I tease my tongue through the seam of his lips, and he opens his mouth willingly, letting my tongue slip into his warmth. My whole body relaxes as I sigh into his mouth. A strangled groan passes through my mouth as the grip he has on my waist tightens, his nails digging into my flesh, causing heat to pool between my legs.

His mouth is so welcoming and inviting, I just want more. I’m hardly breathing anymore, just desperate and eager to get as much of him as I can. We easily become a mess of teeth, tongue, hands and mouths practically begging each other to keep goingas we pant and writhe. I push my hands through his hair, greedily pulling like my life depends on this moment right here.

His kisses become harder, more focused as if he’s trying to pull a reaction out of me. When his determined hands roll me over him, my heat contacting the thickness in his jeans, a whiny moan leaves my mouth, straight into his.