by Maisey Yates
“Connor?” A feminine voice rose up above the hammer strikes.
He turned and saw Liss standing there, her eyes wide, her face washed in light. “Are you just getting home?” he asked, instantly enraged.
“What?”
“You. Are you just getting home?”
“Where would I have been?”
“I don’t know. With Ace. Getting laid.”
“For your information, asshole, I was in your kitchen getting warm milk. Not that it’s your business either way. If I want to have more milk, I will have more milk. And if I want to have sex, I will have that, so just... Yeah.”
“Not at my house.” He knew he was being unreasonable, and he didn’t care. Because the moment she had walked in, he had pictured her with Ace, his hands on her skin, and he had seen red.
“What are you, my dad? You know what, you can’t be my dad, because he was never around, so he didn’t care who I brought home. So I don’t even know what you are.”
* * *
LISS HAD NO IDEA what had gotten under Connor’s skin. She had been out looking for him, because when she had realized that he hadn’t come in, she’d been afraid he was off somewhere drinking himself into a stupor. Frankly, she didn’t trust him. Not when emotions were this close to the surface; and where the barn was concerned, clearly, there were emotions.
The fact that they were standing here yelling at each other about something as stupid as him thinking she hooked up with Ace was evidence of that. The fact that he was in here at midnight putting up siding with a hammer, pounding on the board as if he wanted to put a hole in it, was yet more definitive evidence.
“Just your friend, who opened up his house to you, and worries about you. And who, frankly, does not want you to sleep with a skanky bartender.”
“Since when is it your business who I sleep with?” she asked.
“When I said it was.”
“What is your problem?”
“What isn’t my problem?” he asked, throwing his hands wide, the hammer still gripped tightly in one of his fists. His chest was bare, a golden beam from the work light throwing the muscles on his torso into sharp relief, highlighting the beads of sweat on his skin that were trailing down through the ridges of his abs.
It was difficult to have a fight with somebody when you were light-headed from looking at them.
“Things are moving. They’re moving faster than I want. Moving on, and I’m not ready,” he said, dropping his arms to his sides. “This barn is getting built, whether I’m ready for it to be built or not. I’m starting to want sex again, even though I don’t really want it.”
Liss blinked, her heart stuttering as she absorbed his words. “Wait, what?”
“And you,” he said, taking a few steps toward her, “you are not helping.”
“What again?” she asked, blinking rapidly, her heart pounding so hard she was afraid she might pass out. Just think that away, onto the floor of the partially built barn.
“You,” he said, his voice rough, “and your lacy panties. I saw them in the laundry. And now I can’t stop picturing you in them.”
Her stomach twisted into a knot, her heart thundering against her breastbone. “You thought about me in my panties?”
“I can’t stop thinking about you in them.”
“Well, I saw you in...your underwear. You didn’t see me in mine.”
“You seem fine. I am not fine.” He dropped the hammer with a dull thud and took another step toward her, wrapping his arm around her waist and drawing her up against his chest. “I’m not fine.” He raised his hand, brushing her cheekbone with his thumb. “I’m just not.”
She could hear the pain in his voice, the confusion, the plea. He wanted her to fix this, wanted her to make it better, to take away the anguish that was tearing at him from the inside out. But she couldn’t.
She didn’t want him to stop picturing her that way. Because she didn’t want him to let her go. As far as this was concerned, she didn’t want it to be okay. She wanted to be different. She wanted to be everything.
He needed her help, and she wanted something else entirely.
She hated herself for that weakness, but she couldn’t fight it. And she didn’t move away from him.
“I’m not fine, either,” she said, her voice small.
For a moment he just looked at her, his chest rising and falling with each breath, his eyes glittering. Then he moved.
“Fuck,” he said, just before his mouth covered hers.
Liss was glad that he was holding on to her, because if he hadn’t been, she would’ve crumpled straight to the ground. Years of fantasies could not have prepared her for the reality of Connor’s lips on hers. It was new, and it was familiar in the most beautiful way. Like Christmas. Different all the time and somehow the same. With surprises and tradition all wrapped into one. That was kissing Connor. His scent surrounding her, so familiar, but mingling together now with his flavor. She had never tasted him before, and it was the most wonderful thing. The most perfect thing.
He angled his head, sliding his tongue across the seam of her mouth as she opened to him, sighing as his tongue moved against hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressed herself hard up against him and kissed him back with all of the repressed enthusiasm that had been building inside her since she’d first imagined what it might be like to taste his lips.
He was everything. The sunset on the ocean, the salt breeze through the pine trees, a burst of the season’s first ripe blackberry on her tongue. He tasted like heartbreak and hope, and it made her ache down so deep it was physical pain.
He shifted their positions and cupped her face, the kiss intensifying. His mouth was firm, his beard rasping against her skin, his tongue slick against hers. The depth to the kiss, the intensity of it...it couldn’t be anyone but him.
She’d spent years studying his lips, and now she finally knew what it felt like to have them beneath hers. She’d talked to him, but she’d never heard him groan like he did as she swept her tongue across his bottom lip. She knew him, as well as a friend could ever know another friend, and yet, she hadn’t known what he sounded like when he was aroused. But she did now. And it was better than anything. Better than ice cream.
When he pulled away from her, she was shaking, a strange, sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. Terror mingling with desire, excitement, adrenaline.
She didn’t know what to say; she didn’t know what to do. She wanted to lean in and kiss him again, and she wanted to run away. She couldn’t really do both at the same time. Unless she kissed him really quickly and then ran for the hills.
There was no question that she had just revealed a hell of a lot. Because you didn’t kiss a guy like that if you hadn’t thought about it before. If you hadn’t thought about it for years and years, over and over again.
But he had kissed her back. And even though he was looking at her now as if she had sprouted a second head, the fact remained he had instigated this.
And he had thought about her in her panties.
She didn’t want to speak, because that would mean the moment was over. And it was a moment she had spent so many years waiting for, she didn’t think she could face the end of it.
But she did have to deal with the fact that this could very well be the end of the moment. Because he wasn’t moving toward her again. Didn’t look like he was leaning in for another kiss. Didn’t look like he would extend his hands to her and lead her to his bedroom.
A shiver ran through her body. She wanted to go to his bedroom. She just let the thought sit there, fully formed, acknowledged. She wanted to go to Connor’s bedroom. She wanted more of what had just happened. She wanted him naked, wanted to touch him everywhere, taste him everywhere. Once would never be enough. One touch of his mouth against hers was nothing m
ore than a glimpse at paradise.
How could she go back now that she’d experienced this? Connor was fantasy made flesh. And now that she knew desire like this was real and living, how could she ever go back to what she’d accepted before?
This was heat and fire, the kind that left scorched earth and devastation in its wake. The kind that reshaped everything it touched.
Too soon it was over.
“Sorry,” he said, taking a step away from her.
It was over. That step backward made it official. She hated it. Hated that she was only going to kiss Connor once. She had spent a very long time accepting the fact that she was never going to kiss him at all. But this was worse.
“Don’t apologize,” she said. “It sucks.”
That was probably too honest. She should stop talking. She should go back into the house and not say anything. She should just say it was okay and nod along when he said it shouldn’t happen again, that their friendship was too important. Because it shouldn’t, and their friendship was too important. But she didn’t want to have that conversation. And she didn’t want to nod along. Seeing as she didn’t agree.
“I just grabbed you and kissed you. We don’t kiss. If that doesn’t merit an apology, I’m not really sure what does.”
“Just don’t say you’re sorry you kissed me. Because I’m not sorry.”
“Why aren’t you sorry?” he asked.
“I liked it.”
The words hung there between them, like dust in the air, highlighted by the work light, swirling around them. “You liked it?”
“Yeah,” she said, shrugging a shoulder. “I haven’t been kissed in a while.”
“And you didn’t kiss Ace.”
“No, I did not kiss Ace. I didn’t even want to. In spite of the fact that it has been a long time since I’ve been kissed.”
“But you wanted to kiss me?” He looked so confused, and if she didn’t feel so conflicted, so tied up in knots, it might’ve been funny.
“Well, I wasn’t opposed to the idea.”
He lifted his hands then lowered them, slapping them on his thighs. “What does... Well, what the hell does that mean?”
“I don’t know.” She started picking at the remnants of pink polish on her thumbnail. “Does it have to mean anything?”
“Does a kiss ever mean...nothing?”
“I think sometimes it just means that people like to kiss.” That sounded lame.
“Well, but usually it means people have certain feelings. Things they want to do that are kissing. That are more than kissing.”
“This is the most awkward conversation I’ve ever had,” she said.
“Well, how is it supposed to be not awkward? We’ve spent a lot of years not kissing. And then I kissed you. It would’ve been a lot easier if you would’ve just let me sweep it under the rug with an apology.”
“I know. But I didn’t feel like it.”
“Liss, you are a pain in the ass.”
“Well, thank you, Connor. You kissed me and then you called me a name. The state of our friendship is a little bit weird at the moment.”
Connor put his hands on his head. “I know. I think there’s something weird happening to me.” He let out a long breath and relaxed his arms again. “There has been for a long time. And I think something is happening, with you living with me, and it having been...a while. Three years.”
“So it’s proximity, then.” That hurt.
“Probably. What else could it be?” Ouch again.
“Nothing,” she said, leaving it at that. Anything else would be admitting that her attraction was long-standing, and his, apparently wasn’t. If he was even really attracted to her. He hadn’t really said. He was talking about sex deprivation and proximity, which wasn’t the same thing.
“We should forget this. Apparently, I’m kind of dangerous when I don’t drink.”
He also had some spark back. A little bit of wildness, like the Connor he used to be. She liked it. She liked it a whole lot better.
“No, don’t do that. If it’s a choice between drinking or making out, I think you should just make out with me.”
Her aim had been to make him laugh. But he wasn’t laughing. Instead, his eyes caught hers, a serious light in them. A predatory light. Connor had never looked at her that way before. It made her feel light-headed, made her feel like maybe that step back hadn’t meant the end, after all. “Medicinal making out?”
Liss swallowed hard, feeling dizzy. “Sure.”
“What scares me is the hangover,” he said, his tone grave.
Yeah, that was the thing that scared her, too. Because the kissing was fine, and she was sure sex would be better. The aftermath was the concern. It made her feel panicky, made her feel like a wild beast was clawing at her insides. Possibly Kate’s wolverine.
“Yeah. Those can be a bitch.”
“I’m well acquainted.” He extended his hand, fingertips drifting over her cheek. “We should go inside,” he said, breaking contact with her.
Suddenly, she was freezing. Her teeth chattered, and she wrapped her arms around her midsection. “Good idea,” she said.
It was very inconvenient that she and Connor had to go back to the same place tonight. She needed distance. She needed it badly. Because depending, she had a feeling she could be easily convinced to run away screaming into the night, or fall right into his arms and spend the night screaming with him, in his bed.
Oh, boy.
They were both still standing there, neither of them making a move to go in.
“We should go,” he said again.
“Good idea,” she repeated.
“I don’t know why it’s hard,” he said.
Liss tried to hold back the laugh that built in her chest, but she was unsuccessful. It burst out, somewhere between a snort and a sputter. “That’s what she said.”
“Really, Liss?”
“I’m sorry. I’m so inappropriate. This is really uncomfortable. And I guess when things get uncomfortable, I figure you might as well add a penis joke.” Connor turned away from her and started out of the barn. “What? At least this is more normal.” She trailed after him, pleased that somehow she had managed to break the tension, even if it was accidental.
“It is that,” he said, not turning back to look at her.
They walked on for a while, not saying anything. If you didn’t have anything non-penis-related to say, you shouldn’t say anything at all. Or something.
The house came into view, the porch light off, the only light provided by the moon. Connor walked up the steps, his hands shoved in his pockets. Liss hung back. He looked at her, his expression serious. “You can come in. I’m not going to jump you.”
“Good to know,” she said, walking up the stairs and joining him on the porch. “I didn’t really think you were going to.” She had a feeling there was a much higher chance of her jumping him.
“Well, good, I’m glad you realize that.”
“I trust you, Connor.”
“I’m not sure you should,” he said.
“Connor, let me tell you something. I don’t even know my dad. I think he sent a card once, but I don’t know for sure, because my mom took it and burned it. She never could separate what happened between them from my relationship with him. It would have been one thing if she had been angry at him because of the way he ignored me, but that was never it. She was just never over the fact that he didn’t stay with her. That he didn’t take care of her. Unlike my dad, she’s always been there. But she’s never hesitated to tell me how difficult I’ve made her life. Being a single mom is hard, and she made sure I knew. But I did learn very quickly that there were ways I could make things easier. When I kept the house clean, when I got myself to school, things were easier. And..
.” Liss swallowed hard; she was embarrassed to tell him the next part, not because the story was embarrassing, but the level of emotion she still felt about it was. “This is going to sound really stupid. But remember how I didn’t go to senior prom?”
“Vaguely. I was kind of over prom, since I’d already been to mine and as a graduate it all felt like kid stuff to me, but it was important to Jessie, so I went.”
“Well, I wanted to go. I was waiting tables at The Crow’s Nest to save up to buy this dress that I saw at the bridal store. With hindsight, and some maturity, I think it was a very ugly dress.” She didn’t. She still thought it was beautiful. Cotton-candy pink with spaghetti straps, clear beads on the bodice and heavy satin skirt. And if she ever saw it, she would buy it. Just because she could. “Anyway, I saved up for a few months for that prom dress. And I bought it. I put it in my room, still in the little plastic garment bag, hanging on the outside of my closet so I could look at it whenever. Then, like, three days before prom, my mom saw the dress and got really upset. She started telling me about all these problems. The car wasn’t working well, and our power bill was really big. And I shouldn’t spend my money on something like that. She said I needed to help around the house more, because she did so much for me. I was so angry at her, and at myself. I knew she was manipulating me. And I knew there was nothing I could do about how it made me feel.”
Connor grimaced. “Liss...”
“I returned it. And I gave my mom the money I had saved. The night of the prom, we went out. We had hamburgers and milk shakes. She was happy with me. And that is what I have to do to have a relationship with her. But you don’t do that to me. And that’s why I trust you. So don’t tell me that I shouldn’t.” She paused, her heart up in her throat. “You’re the best I have.”
“Oh, Liss,” he said, taking a step toward her, wrapping his arm around her waist, drawing her in for a hug.
“It was just a dress.”
He moved his hand over her back slowly, the motion so unintentionally erotic she was besieged by both guilt and arousal. “It’s not, though.”