by Anthology
He stroked my head with his large hand, his touch light. “I brought dinner. We are going to eat and talk.” He paused. “If your head is up to it?”
I nodded. “It’s fine.”
“Good.”
“Do I get my keys and shoes back?”
“Nope.”
“Oh.” I hadn’t expected that answer.
“Unless you really want them.”
I shook my head.
He leaned down again, his face level with mine. “I like you in my shirt. And you smell like me.”
“I had a shower and I used your soap. I hope that’s okay?”
He nodded. “Perfect. I like you smelling like me. Have you moved on in your kidnapped-adoring-your-captor-syndrome? You there yet?”
My breath caught. “Aren’t you moving a little fast?” I squeaked. I had only broken up with John a couple of hours ago. Where was all that coming from?
He shook his head, his face getting closer. He wrapped his hand around the back of my neck, pulling me close. “I’ve been waiting for you since the day I moved in, Jenny. As far as I’m concerned, it’s been too long.”
Once again, I found myself drowning in his kiss.
When he finally released me and moved away, I stared after him in shock.
Since he moved in? He’d been waiting since he moved in?
That was six months ago.
I wanted him to come back and talk to me. My fingers brushed my swollen lips. They wanted him back, as well.
I sighed.
The Stockholm syndrome had definitely started.
***
“Eat, Jenny. You need something in your stomach.”
“I ate earlier,” I protested. I remembered that part.
“You spewed up your poutine about three hours ago, Wren.” He shook his head, chuckling. “Not much of a drunk, are you? You eat greasy foods the morning after. Not while you’re drunk. They always come back.”
I gaped at him. I had eaten poutine? I hated poutine. I shuddered. He had seen that? Oh, God, that was so gross.
He shrugged. “Well, you ate it. So, throwing it up was a good thing I guess, if you hate it so much.”
Oh. My. God. My mouth had no filter today. None.
I stared at him in horror. I could feel my entire body flushing with embarrassment. “I’m so, so sorry,” I muttered. “You shouldn’t have seen that.”
He waved his hand dismissively. “Nope. It’s fine. I’ve seen lots worse in my line of work. No doubt I’ll see it again.”
“What?”
He nodded enthusiastically around his mouthful of noodles. “No doubt I’ll piss you off, and you’ll have to go drinking with Jackey sometime. Best we got the first one over with now.”
I shook my head. I couldn’t imagine ever being pissed at this man. He was perfection walking. I also knew I was never drinking again.
He laughed, slapping his knee as he guffawed. “Inner monologue, Jenny. You really need to work on that. Between no filter and that expressively beautiful face . . . I can read you no problem.”
Huh. John always said I was closed off and removed to him. My inner monologue only seemed to fail around Connor.
Connor leaned forward, his chopsticks loaded with noodles. “Open up, Wren.”
That was the second time he called me by that name. “Wren?”
He grinned. “Jenny Reynolds. Jenny Wren. It’s how I always thought of you. You remind me of one of those little birds with your soft brown hair and those dark eyes. Do you hate it?”
“No,” I admitted, feeling shy. “I kinda like it.”
“Good. Now open up and let me feed you, little bird.”
I opened my mouth, and he gently fed me the noodles, smiling in approval as I chewed. “You will drink again. I will piss you off. I promise you that.” His fingers traced my cheek. “But I’m going to try really hard to be a good man for you. The kind you deserve.” He handed me a container and a spoon. “I got you soup. Eat it, please.”
I stared at him as he went back to his food.
The kind I deserve?
I wasn’t sure what kind that was, but the thought of it being Connor made me smile.
***
Connor’s phone rang, and he picked it up with a smile of apology. After listening, talking, and laughing for a couple minutes with whoever was on the other end, he hung up, his expression amused. I heard something about “smell” and “car” and “it’ll never the same,” but I didn’t pay it much attention. He grinned at me. “That was my partner.”
“Everything okay?”
He chuckled. “For me, yep. Not so sure for someone else.”
“Okay?”
“I’ll tell you later.” He moved closer to me on the couch, his hand clasping mine. “Feeling better?”
“I am. Thank you.”
“Good. Your arm okay?”
“It’s fine, Connor.”
“He isn’t going to touch you again. Ever.”
“I don’t plan on seeing him again.”
“I hope not. He doesn’t deserve to be in the same room as you.”
I shook my head. No one had ever sounded so protective or caring. I wasn’t used to the feeling. I stifled a yawn as I looked at Connor. If he was home this afternoon, I wondered if he had to work in the morning. He shook his head when I asked.
“No. I’m off until Sunday—three full days. I’ve been looking forward to the time off.”
“I guess I should, um, go. I’m sure you have plans tonight?”
“I do, and she is sitting next to me.”
“Oh.”
“Did I frighten you earlier, Jenny? All the talk about us?”
I sighed, lifting his hand and studying it in the light. His fingers were long and calloused, his palm large and yet always so gentle when he touched me. I glanced up at him. “Frighten me? No. Surprise me, yes. It feels rather surreal, Connor. This morning, I bought a watch for John. This afternoon, that relationship ended badly. Tonight, I’m here with you, and you tell me you have feelings for me.”
“You said you had feelings for me too, Jenny.” He hesitated, his voice wary. “Or was that the liquor talking?”
I kissed his hand. “No. The liquor made me brave, but I meant it.”
“Did I break up the two of you?”
“No. We’d been drifting apart for a long time, even before you moved in. I think I stayed with him out of convenience and habit.” I shrugged sheepishly. “Guess that doesn’t make me a very good person, does it?”
“It makes you human.” He sighed, his head falling back on the couch. “The first day I moved in here I saw you. You were laughing at something Jackey said, and I thought you were the prettiest thing I’d ever seen. You came over, introduced yourself, and welcomed me to the building.” He turned his head, his eyes serious. “You were so full of light and kindness. I fell for you right there.”
“Oh.”
“Oh, indeed. I found out you had a boyfriend, so I told myself I could just be your friend, at least for the time being. But I loved bumping into you or running out of ketchup.”
“You eat a lot of it. You were always asking for it.”
He grinned. “I never use the stuff. It was something I noticed you had a lot of in your fridge one day when I was over for coffee and grabbed the cream.”
I rolled my eyes. “I kept it on hand for John. I never used it either. He put it on everything.”
Connor’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. “Well, at least he was good for one thing.” He softened his voice. “I loved how you always offered me coffee in the mornings if you saw me. It was my favorite time of day—getting to sit with you for a few minutes and talk to you, see you smile.” His cheeks flushed slightly. “I, ah, may have memorized your schedule so I knew when I’d bump into you. Coffee with Jenny days were the best.”
My own cheeks tinted, and Connor frowned at me. “Jenny?”
“I may have made note of those days, as well. I always made sure to
make extra coffee.”
“Quite the pair.”
I looked at him. “Quite.”
The air around us grew warm, and Connor’s gaze darkened as his hand squeezed mine. “I want to kiss you again. Will you let me?”
“Please,” I breathed.
He pulled me toward him slowly, his eyes never leaving my face. He wrapped his hands around the back of my neck, burying them in my hair as his lips descended on mine. I had thought kissing Connor while drunk was good; nothing prepared me for the burst of heat that hit me kissing him while sober. Every sense in my body ignited. I whimpered as he pushed his tongue in, licking and exploring, his flavor filling my senses and my head. I couldn’t get enough of him—his taste, his scent, his strength—as he held me against his hard body. I gripped his shoulders with my hands, as he tilted my head, controlling the kiss completely. I lost myself to him, and the passion he brought out in me. It was only when he pulled back, I realized I was straddling his lap and we were both panting and flushed.
“God, you’re amazing,” Connor whispered. He traced his thumb over my bottom lip; his gaze hooded with desire.
Teasingly, I drew his thumb into my mouth, swirling my tongue around the tough skin, with my teeth nipping at the thick end. A strangled groan escaped Connor’s lips as he stared at me, his eyes burning. I lowered my gaze, my eyes widening when I took in his growing bulge, his pants straining at the zipper. He pulled his thumb out of my mouth, crashing his lips to mine as he grabbed my hips, pulling me down on top of his erection, thrusting upward. We both groaned at the intense sensation as we rocked together, our lips fused, and our bodies locked in a rhythmic dance. My body was on overload, and I shuddered as long rolls of pleasure ran through me. I had never felt anything like it. My head fell back as I gasped for air and Connor’s lips nipped and licked at my neck.
“Tell me to stop, Wren,” he murmured in my ear. “Tell me to stop or I won’t be able to . . . God . . . Jenny.”
I didn’t want him to stop. I wanted him to come apart and I wanted to see it happen. I sped up my movements, undulating over him and moaning his name. He pressed me down, pushing right where I needed him the most.
He spoke in a gruff voice. “Baby . . . I can’t . . . you need to . . .” He then stilled, throwing his head back as he shuddered and cursed. I fell with him, my orgasm tearing through me. I watched him, my body locking down as I gasped his name. I was unable to tear my eyes away from his face as he climaxed.
Fuck, he was pretty when he came. I smiled. I did that to him. I made him pretty.
I fell forward, nestled against his torso, spent and exhausted. He pulled me to rest against his body, his chin resting on my shoulder as we slowly recovered.
“You’re staying the night.”
I smiled against his chest. It wasn’t a request. I wanted to stay, but I still couldn’t resist teasing him.
“I am? You’re still holding my keys?”
“And your clothes and shoes.” He growled into my neck.
“I guess I have no choice then.”
He groaned and stood, taking me with him. He strode down the hall, laying me on his bed. He hovered over me, his face close to mine. “I’m going to have a shower. You’re staying here. Unless, of course, you want to join me.”
I shook my head. I wasn’t quite ready for that yet.
“Then you’ll be here when I get back.”
I nodded, my eyes drifting down to the front of his pants. I bit my lip as I looked back up. Connor smirked at me.
“Proud of yourself, Jenny? You made me come in my pants. I haven’t done that since I was a teenager.”
I tried to suppress my smile but failed.
Grinning, he leaned down and kissed me hard. “Smile away. You did it.” He stood up and walked to the dresser, grabbing a pair of sleep shorts before he paused and turned around. “But, Jenny?”
“Yes?”
“I am not pretty. Guys are never pretty when they come. We’re sexy, hot, devastatingly handsome, but not pretty.” Winking, he strode into the bathroom.
I grumbled as I rolled over. Inner monologue. I needed to find my inner monologue. I had to stop my mouth spilling out all my thoughts when I was around him.
But I strongly disagreed. He was hot and sexy, yet still very pretty.
***
“Whatever you’re thinking about that is making you look like that, needs to stop right now.”
I looked up in surprise at the sight of Connor, leaning against the doorway, running a towel through his damp hair. His chest was bare, gleaming in the soft light cast by the bedside lamp. He strode forward, his long, muscled legs visible since he only wore low-slung shorts. His abs, arms, and pecs were well defined and taut. There was a tattoo on his shoulder of the police insignia, the ink strikingly black against his skin. He tossed the towel into the hamper before he lifted the covers, lying beside me. He cupped my cheek and frowned. “What is going on in that beautiful head of yours?”
I started shaking my head, and his hand tightened. “Don’t say nothing. You look positively shattered right now.” He leaned forward, pressing his lips against mine. “Tell me.”
“What must you think of me right now, Connor?”
“I don’t understand.”
“I broke up with my boyfriend this afternoon, and I’m in your bed tonight. In between, I got drunk, confessed my hidden feelings for you, and then . . .” I couldn’t even finish, and I looked at him in horror. “I don’t act like this. I’ve never done anything like this before,” I whispered, my voice pleading. I wanted him to believe me. I wanted him to know the kind of person I was. From the second he had left to go shower, my thoughts had been raging. I had been struggling with everything that had happened, the enormity of the day crashing over me.
“I know that, Jenny. I know you.”
“How? How can you be so sure?”
“Because I see you. I’ve heard you on the phone with your friends and family when I was at your place. I’ve seen the pictures in your apartment. You’ve shared stories about you and your life with me. I could hear you talking in the hall with neighbors and friends. I know how caring you are with everyone. You help all the people in this building. I know about the meals you make for Mrs. Franklin and Mr. Smithers. I know you got them playing cards together, so they aren’t alone all the time. You look after everyone around you. Your friends adore you. I even heard how great you were with that jerk.”
“You did?”
“I didn’t mean to listen, but the walls are quite thin, and when I’d hear your voice, I just sort of became more alert.” He shrugged. “It’s the cop in me, I think. I always had to make sure you were okay. He was leaving one day and you were telling him to calm down; that you felt he worked too hard and you never saw him anymore.” He frowned. “I didn’t like his tone when he talked to you, but I stayed out of it; although, if he had done anything, I would have been out of the door and on him in a flash. But he brushed you off fairly quickly and left.”
“I remember that day. You came over a little while after he left and told me your coffee maker broke. You asked me if I could make you a thermos to take to work.”
He smiled sheepishly. “I had to check on you.”
“We’ve had a lot of coffee together.”
“It was a great way to spend time with you. I could see you and you were comfortable with it. It gave me a chance to get to know you better.” He cocked his head to the side. “I don’t think you realize how generous you were with me. You always sent me off with a snack or lunch. Are you even aware of how often you knocked on my door with dinner or some of your treats?”
I shook my head.
“I figured that. It is so natural with you. I loved hearing those knocks. I always felt so cared for.”
“I liked how you reacted when I gave you something. You were so enthusiastic and grateful. And you made me feel less alone.” I shrugged. “John was around less and less.”
Connor smirked. “
Working so hard.”
I smiled ruefully. “I guess he wasn’t working as hard as I thought he was, at least not at his job.”
Connor sighed and moved closer. He pulled me to him and held me silently for a minute. When he spoke, his voice was low but firm. “Listen to me, Jenny. I think, today, you ended something that wasn’t right for you. You haven’t been happy for a long time. You told me that. What happened today was simply you moving on from a relationship that has been dead longer than you realized.” He paused, his hand ghosting up and down my arm. “I know this is fast and completely out of character for you. What happened earlier, on the couch? We didn’t plan it, but it wasn’t wrong. I’m sorry you’re regretting it.”
“I’m not regretting it, Connor.”
“No?”
“I just need you to know it’s not my usual style.”
He chuckled. “I already knew that, but duly noted.”
“John and I . . . we haven’t been, um . . .”
He held up his hand. “That is none of my business, Jenny.”
I grabbed his hand and held it tight. “Please, let me.”
“Okay, Wren. Whatever you need.”
“Things have never been very passionate between us. I always questioned that because it didn’t seem right. My friends all talked about this connection they had with their partner and I never felt it with John.” I looked at Connor intently. “I’ve never felt anything like I felt with you on the couch. Ever.”
A slow smile spread across his face, but he didn’t say anything.
“The past few months it got worse. I didn’t like his touch anymore. It just felt wrong. He only stayed over twice since you moved in, and both times he was drunk and nothing happened. He thought it did, and I let him, so I didn’t feel so guilty. But there was no spark.” I sighed. “I should have broken it off months ago.”
“So, you liked the couch?”
“Yeah. I did.” I chewed the inside of my cheek. “I’m not sure I’m ready for more just yet, though.”
“I can handle that. Just being here with you, like this, is more than I hoped for.” He tapped my cheek, shaking his head. “Stop beating yourself up about not breaking it off with him sooner. Hindsight is a powerful thing. Okay?”
“Okay.”