Connell (Carolina Reapers 3)

I gasped, instantly liquid at the firm pressure against my hand, and cursed myself for wanting him so badly. For wanting him to pack us up and take us home where I could ravish him properly.

I tugged my hand back before I could suggest such a thing. “I’m sorry about that,” I said, a pang of guilt hitting me. “I didn’t mean to get you worked up only to not fin—”

“I don’t give a shite about that,” he said. “I wanted to please you. Don’t you get that by now?”

I swallowed hard. “No,” I admitted. “I don’t get it, Connell. I so don’t get it.” I shook my head, smoothing my fingers through my wild hair. “We can laugh together and be friends and even have fun between the sheets, but we both know I’m not what you really want.”

His lips parted, his blue eyes churning with liquid fire. “You’re out of your fucking mind.”

I gaped at him. “Excuse me?” I whisper-hissed to keep from snapping.

“You are,” he said. “If you think that you’re not exactly what I want.”

“Oh, come on, Connell,” I said, arching a brow at him. “We both know I’m nothing more than a convenient fling until the season really starts, and all the perfect bunnies arrive.” I smacked my hand on my knee. “Hell, you just admitted you were completely aware of our surroundings while I was on another fucking planet. That’s not balanced—”

He took an obvious deep breath, laying his hand over mine. “Annabelle, the only reason, and I’m fucking serious, the only reason I knew what was going on around us is because I made an effort to. And it’s not fucking easy, but I know you. I know how important your professional appearance is to you, and I would never put you in a situation where you’d find yourself vulnerable or open to judgement.”

Tears welled behind my eyes.

“If I hadn’t made that effort? I wouldn’t have stopped at one orgasm. I would’ve peeled those frilly little panties down your legs, and I would’ve slid into you right here until you came so many times I’d have to carry you home. Do you understand me?”

My heart raced, a battle of lust and want and hope swirling until my head spun.

“No one can compare to you,” he continued. “And believe you and me, you are the farthest thing from convenient.” He laughed a dark laugh. “You’re stubborn, argumentative, and a right pain in the arse half the time.”

I bit back a grin.

“And I love it. Every. Single. Second. Of. It.”

I sucked in a sharp breath as his hand smoothed over my face to cup my cheek.

“I don’t care about bunnies.” His other hand disappeared behind his back until he’d come back with his phone. He held the cell out at an arm’s length until our faces filled the frame. He pressed a tender kiss to my forehead and snapped the picture. “I’ll post this right now, showing everyone who exactly I’m with and who I want.”

I shook my head. “Don’t,” I said, my voice a ragged whisper.

He sighed. “You don’t want people to know we’re together.”

“Are we?”

He put his phone away. “There is no one else, Annabelle. There hasn’t been long since before I hit your beloved statue. And there won’t be. Not as long as you’ll have me.”

My lips parted, two tears rolling down my cheeks. “I’m not what you need—”

“Stop,” he said, wiping the tears away with his thumbs. “As long as you’ll have me,” he said again. “You understand?”

I didn’t.

Not really.

I couldn’t deny the white-hot chemistry between us. Couldn’t deny how we laughed and had fun together. Couldn’t deny his tenacity and dedication when it came to learning who I was inside. Couldn’t deny how he was the first person I wanted to see in the morning and the last person I wanted to talk to at night. That he’d become my first call when anything of interest happened.

And yet…I wasn’t his usual type. I had curves, lots of them, and I sure as hell wasn’t Instagram-ready like Blaire. If the public saw us together…they’d ridicule him. And that’s the last thing I wanted.

But I wanted him more.

And for now, that was enough.

I finally nodded, pressing my lips together in what I hoped he could tell was an apology for the outburst.

He sighed, relief churning in his eyes as he tucked me into his side and settled us back against the pillows.

“Now, what the bleeding hell is happening in this film?” He whispered, and a laugh burst from my lips. The icky, heavy tension completely cleared.

And a jolt of ice-cold fear pulsed in my heart as I reeled in that laugh.

Because I realized just how powerful Connell had become in my heart—fully capable of either crushing it, or healing it.

And I was scared to death of which one would win in the end.