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My orgasm ought to act as a chill pill, calming me after a wild twenty-four hours. Instead, I’m even more anxious after Conor and I find pleasure. Now, I’m filled with questions. Who is this man? Why did he call dibs on me? Did he know who I was? Why didn’t he do more than kiss me for a month? How can Conor act so silly and sweet while also exuding darkness?
This final question is probably why I’m so agitated. After all, Uncle Clive can be fun and even charming. He could also randomly lash out. Conor doesn’t look or sound like Clive, but I’m nervous he could suddenly turn on me.
My foot begins tapping wildly as I realize I might be in enemy territory. Yet, my biggest ally is a man similar to the one trying to marry me off to a middle-aged nerd.
After ten minutes of cuddling on the couch with Conor, I squirm free, flop on the ground, and scramble to freedom.
“You want me so bad,” Conor teases, still stretched out on the couch. “It’s kinda embarrassing.”
Laughing at his sarcastic taunting, I walk back and forth from the door to the kitchen.
“I can’t stop thinking.”
“Let’s go for a ride,” Conor says, standing. “We’ll drive to Cincinnati and catch a movie. It’ll waste a few hours. Then, we’ll hit Bambi’s restaurant and leave Amity a big fucking tip, so she feels indebted to us. By the time we’re done with all that, the day will be mostly over.”
“Don’t you have work?”
“No. With my stellar organizational skills, I get all my shit done in forty-five minutes.”
“Is that true?”
Conor flashes his bedroom eyes at me and asks, “Why would I lie?”
“To impress me.”
“But I already made you come today. I also let you buy me lunch. Shouldn’t I be dialing back the charm at this point?” he asks while checking his phone. When I don’t respond, he smirks. “No, it really takes me less than an hour to finish work. So, do you want to grab a jacket for the ride?”
Conor refuses to get flustered while I feel so overwhelmed that I could decorate the apartment with stress-induced barf. Why shouldn’t I trust him? He clearly has his shit together while I feel as if I’m drowning.
Grabbing my tan leather jacket, I think back to what the bunnies shared with me about Conor. Their inside insight often felt contradictory. He’s both an easygoing goofball unfit to lead a dangerous organization or a calculating cold-blooded killer looking to live up to his father’s impressively violent legacy.
What Amity told me last week feels the most spot-on. “I enjoy spending time with Conor, but I’m never sure he enjoys spending time with me.”
The guy really is an enigma once he chooses to skip the effort to come off as easygoing. When we’re in the parking lot, before I climb on his bike, he gives the nearby road a dark frown. I don’t know if he sees someone or just thinks he does, but I’d piss myself a little if he ever unleashed that look on me. Men like Conor and Uncle Clive make few threats, but I sense they’re the most dangerous.
Right now, Conor’s green-eyed gaze finds me, and he allows a little smile. “I like knowing I can kiss you whenever I want.”
I desperately want to push away Conor and protect my heart. No, I should make him want me more! I need to be protected from Uncle Clive. But I’ve never been any good at using people. I should have tried harder to win over my uncle, aunt, and cousins back in Minton. Or seduced one of Clive’s henchmen. I’m attractive, and a few of them wanted to fuck me.
After Mom took off, I considered using what they wanted to get what I needed. Except Uncle Clive wasn’t going to put the needs of his peons ahead of his own. As soon as Zella was dead and Mom left, I was on borrowed time. Uncle Clive kept mentioning how much men eyeballed me. He would often say that Hobbs women came from the mud, but they sure did make men wild. Even knowing I was in danger, I didn’t run until the absolute last fucking minute.
So, no, I can’t seduce Conor to save myself. He’ll either want me or not. I lack the skills to trick Conor Jessup into doing anything he doesn’t already plan to do. And with his poker face and faux easygoing demeanor, I have no clue what his long-term desires are.
That’s why I plan to focus on enjoying his hot body and sexy company rather than playing him. I won’t worry about Uncle Clive’s henchmen finding me. Or what happens if Lowell isn’t my father. My only goal should be learning more about those tattoos I see peeking out from under Conor’s black “Moonshine Corn Liquor” T-shirt. Tonight, I’ll get this man naked and start exploring.
That’s why I return his kiss with such wild abandon. Why the fuck not enjoy every single moment before it’s gone? I don’t remember much about my last day with my mom or what I told Zella when we last spoke. Life can change so suddenly. Often, there’s no time to say goodbye. I fear that might happen with Conor.
But his lips promise he has everything under control. All I need to do is enjoy the ride while he handles life’s pesky details.
Insisting I wear the helmet he brought, Conor nearly laughs as I try to wedge my head inside it.
“You must have a bigger brain than my cousin, Summer,” he mumbles once I’m wearing it. “Smart chicks are hot.” After Conor starts the engine, he reaches back to stroke my legs. “Hold on,” he says and flashes a deeply unreadable glance at me.
Wrapping my arms tighter around him, I choose to let the excitement of today erase everything else.
