Live Without Regret (A Touch of Fate 3)

“Yeah, right. One of you in my life is enough.”

“Whatever.” Twisting around, she flings her long, dark hair over her sh

oulder. “I’m fabulous and you know it.”

Casey disappears around the corner and I close my eyes, deciding that maybe some sleep is the best thing for me right now. Only when I close my eyes, sleep doesn’t come. Instead, all I see is Connor and his big chiseled body covering my own.

Screw it, who needs sleep anyway.

The clock dings—again—and I silently berate my mother for giving me the damn thing. Don’t get me wrong, I love the antique clock. It was passed down from my grandmother to my mother, and then to me. But right now it’s pissing me the hell off. According to my family heirloom, it’s now two o’clock in the morning and I’ve spent the last four hours thinking. And for me, thinking isn’t good, because I tend to overthink, which is exactly what I’ve done tonight. Connor’s laugh, his smile, his touch—he’s consuming me. I’m finding myself obsessing over what it would be like to become attached to all of those things, only to have them ripped away. Honestly, I’m not sure I could handle going through something like that again. Then again, he wouldn’t do that to me…but he could.

What the hell is wrong with me?

Flinging my legs over the edge of the couch, I rub absently at my heavy lids. Connor’s told me that he doesn’t do meaningless sex, but he never said he does long-term relationships either.

Shit.

My own thoughts cause my breath to hitch in my throat. What if I’m ready to give up my rogue ways at the chance for something more but Connor changed his mind? What if he saw my brand of crazy tonight and decided to cut his losses and run?

Adrenaline pumps through veins, my body vibrating with uncertainty. The need to see him—to talk to him—is overwhelming, and before I know what’s happening, I’m heading toward the door. Thank God he lives close.

Scurrying across the yard, I hop up the steps. His lights are off. Biting nervously at my lip, I try to decide whether or not I should just turn around.

This is crazy.

Running a hand through my hair, I spin around to head back home. I make it two steps and then Casey’s words slam into me like a freight train. Promise me that you’ll be honest. Whatever your feelings, good or bad, just be honest. Don’t run away from them.

Damn it. She’s right. I hate it when she’s right.

If I go home now, I’ll most likely talk myself out of whatever this is with Connor. And I really, really don’t want to do that.

Twirling back around, I take two measured steps, along with a deep breath. I tap the door lightly and then step back. My stomach is twisting in knots, and this time it has nothing to do with my overindulgence of ballpark food and everything to do with Connor.

A couple of seconds pass with no answer. I knock again, a little bit louder this time, and turn around to double-check that his car is still in the driveway. Just then the door flings open, and the sight in front of me causes my heart to go from a steady trot to a full-on gallop.

Connor rubs lazily at his sleep-ridden eyes. His shirt is gone, leaving me with the ridiculously sexy view of his defined stomach, that perfect little V I had so much fun with the other night, and lines upon lines of a tattoo that I want to examine more closely. Shorts hang low on his hips and my eyes are drawn to his erection straining against the gauzy material.

Interesting. I thought men got morning wood. I guess, technically, it is the morning.

Connor clears his throat. “Are you okay?” he asks.

My lady bits tingle at the sound of his scratchy voice and I glance up, meeting his gaze. He looks so rumpled, and a tiny piece of me feels bad for waking him up.

I shake my head. “No.” Connor’s droopy eyelids open wide and he yanks me into his house. He pushes the door shut behind me and then large, warm hands roam over my body. It takes me a second to realize what he’s doing. Chuckling, I pull back. “Yes. I mean, yes. Physically, I’m okay.”

“Thank God.” Connor sighs, pressing a hand to the center of his chest. “I hated leaving you earlier, and I thought about you for hours before I finally fell asleep.”

His words knock the breath right out of me. My heart swells inside my chest, clogging my throat. Swallowing hard, I push past the rush of emotions. “You did?”

“Yes.” He runs a hand through his shaggy hair. “And then you show up and tell me that you’re not okay. You scared the hell out of me there for a second.”

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly, trying to find the words for what I really want to say—for what brought me to his door in the middle of the night. Sucking my bottom lip into my mouth, I look down at my sock-covered feet.

Connor takes a step forward and his bare feet come into view. Placing a finger under my chin, he tilts my face upward and our eyes meet. “What’s going on?” he asks, concern filling his voice.

He lowers his hand, and I catch it on the way down, entwining our fingers. His thumb rubs along the palm of my hand, quickly putting me at ease. “Please tell me you feel this,” I say, my words rushing out. “Because I feel it. I can’t explain it, but it terrifies me.” I continue, leaving out why it terrifies me, because it feels good to get it out. “And I’d feel a whole heck of a lot better if I knew you felt it, too.”

Cupping my face in his hands, Connor pulls me in close. His sweet breath fans across my cheeks. “I feel it, too,” he whispers, his big blue eyes flitting between mine. “But why are you scared?”