by Nichole Noel
“What?” I manage while tugging on my hand—which he will not let go of.
“Please.”
“Please what? What do you want, Connor?” He’s so damn confusing, I can never tell whether he’s coming or going.
Connor sighs his whole broad chest filling and exhaling with the effort. I wish it didn’t draw my attention so much, but he’s so fucking ripped that I can’t help but notice when he flexes, even unintentionally.
I can’t quite tell in the dark, but I think he smiles when he catches me staring, which makes me so mad that I try again to take my hand back.
“Look, get talking or I’m going to kick your ass,” I threaten and this makes him laugh.
“If anyone could, it’s you, MacLean. You always were a spitfire, even as a kid.” It almost sounds like a compliment which would normally shock the hell out of me, except he has the absolute nerve to take my hand and put it right smack dab in the middle of his broad, hot, super hard, way too muscular, can feel his heartbeat through the thin fabric of his shirt, chest.
Shit, I think. But I must say the word out loud because he laughs, and the sound rumbles right through his body and into my palm.
“Listen to me for a moment? Please?” he asks and this time I can’t form any snarky words or angry comebacks so I just nod and try not to dissolve into a puddle of hormones. He’s just a stupid boy, a stupid boy that I hate, but my body doesn’t seem to know that right now. All it’s thinking is hot, hard, male. I’m so screwed if I don’t get out of here.
“Talk,” I demand.
Connor catches his full lip between his teeth, worrying it there as he seems to search for the right words. “I can’t… we can’t…,” he stammers, for the first time in forever, he seems to have no idea what to say, which is ironic considering all the horrible shit he’s managed to say to me recently.
“We can’t what?”
“This—what the fuck is this? Why am I here? I shouldn’t be here. If he finds out… Look, MacLean, you need to be careful. You don’t seem to realize just how much you’re…,” he trails off as if I’m supposed to know just what the hell he’s talking about.
“How much I’m what? A big fucking nerd? Too ugly to exist in the same space as you? I saw how you reacted to me in a bathing suit.” I can’t help but bring it up. It still stings.
“Jesus, no. Look, Princess… you might want to take a look in the mirror behind you.”
“And what? I know what I look like.” I really don’t have time to stand here and listen to Connor tear me down for my looks, so I make a move to leave but he holds my hand tight against his chest and shifts us both, forcing me to face the full-length mirror in the corner.
It’s dark, but the light shining in from the street illuminates us enough that I can see him standing behind me, tall and hulking as he stares at me over my shoulder and through our reflections.
“Look at yourself.”
I do and I hate what I see. I’m too short, too curvy, boobs are too big—such a distraction—hips too wide. My face stares back at me and I just know that, if I could see better, my freckles would be standing out against my pale skin. I’m a whole lot of too much and not enough—hair looks good tonight, though, thanks to my friend. That’s about it.
“I’m nothing and no one,” I sigh. “Can I go?”
“No, not until you see the truth,” he grumbles and I roll my eyes.
“The truth of what?”
“God, Sadie,” he says. There it is again. My name on his lips. That gets my attention. “I don’t think you realize how gorgeous you are… to me.”
I swallow. “What the fuck?” I breathe. Did I just hear him right? Who is this boy and what’s he done with Connor O’Brien?
“Just… shut up and listen, okay? Please?”
Normally, I’d do everything but, but something about how he says it keeps me quiet. This one time, I’ll listen.
He starts out softly like he’s still having a hard time finding the words, or maybe he’s having a hard time being honest. “You’re small, but your shoulders are strong and give you the illusion of height. No one fucks with you, except for me, because you are such a fierce, brave thing.”
I kind of glare into our reflections, but he continues, “You look like… when I first saw you again, I thought I’d made you up in my head, or in my dreams. Your strawberry hair, with your strawberry ice cream in hand. You looked like a fucking treat. When I saw you in your bathing suit…,” he trails off.
I urge him on. “When you saw me, what?”
“I had to get the fuck out of there, otherwise I was going to make a huge fool of myself in front of the entire pool.”
“What? How?”
“Sadie. Do I have to say it?”
I give him a blank look through the mirror. I have no idea what the hell he’s talking about. “Just spit it out, it’s not like you haven’t said horrible things to me before,” I say, bracing for the worst, but what he says catches me completely off guard.
Connor runs his hand through his hair, brushing it back furiously before admitting, “Fuck, you made me hard, okay? I took one look at you in your suit and I had to get out of there, otherwise, the entire pool would have been able to see how much you affected me.”
“Oh,” I say, cheeks flushing with embarrassment as I finally realize the truth about what happened at the pool.
“Yeah, do you understand now?”
“I guess so,” I say, even if I don’t really believe him. But why would he lie about something like that? And it kind of made sense, given how shocked he’d looked and how fast he’d run out of there. And here I’d thought it was because I looked disgusting—I tell him so.
Connor shakes his head. “I think you fell out of my dreams and into my reality. At first, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing, but then my dick caught up with my head and….” He coughs. I cough. This is super embarrassing but also strangely flattering.
“You have my permission to make fun of me,” he drawls, breaking the silence between us.
“I never need your permission for that,” I assure him. The silence stretches between us and it’s not as uncomfortable as I’d have thought. In another life, I’d almost call this nice—being with him, without him being a jerk.
I mean, as soon as he opens his mouth again, I know he’s going to say something stupid, but for the moment I can bask in the knowledge that he thinks I’m attractive and that he’s just helped me get out of a shitty situation, which I do appreciate.
All of a sudden, he asks, “Did you like it?”
“Did I like what?” I have no idea what he’s asking about.
“The bracelet. I wasn’t sure if you like gold, but I wanted to get you something….” he says before trailing off as I realize just what the hell he’s talking about.
My mysterious Christmas gift! I look down at my wrist and see the bracelet glinting back at me.
“This was from you?” I stammer.
“Yeah, I mean. I couldn’t tell you because I knew you’d throw it in my face, or expect the worst, but I wanted to get you something, at least. Do you like it?”
“I wear it every day, so I guess that’s fair to say,” I manage. I love the bracelet, but I’m so confused as to what the hell’s going on. I turn to face him, but neither of us says anything for a beat. The silence is deafening and everything about this is so strange.
I gesture between us, before finally breaking the quiet. “What’s going on here?”
He sighs. “What do you mean?”
“You buy me secret gifts and you just happened to know exactly where I’d be tonight when I needed rescuing? Were you watching me?”
“I was watching that asshole follow up after you, so I guess so,” he admits.
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why care what happens to me? Why wouldn’t you want to see me humiliated and hurt? I just… why care?” I ask, voice so small it’s barely audible. It hurts to ask this. O
nce, I wouldn’t have needed to because I knew he’d cared when he was my friend, but now… We’re nothing but enemies. Right?
“Princess,” he starts and takes a deep breath before continuing. “I wouldn’t want you hurt. I just… I wish things could be different, but that’s not the way life is. Not my life. I can have anything, you know that? Any girl, any friend, anything. But when it comes to the one thing I really want.…” He stops suddenly as if he’s said too much.
“What do you really want, Connor. Be honest, you owe me that much, at least.”
He doesn’t answer me, not right away. Just makes his way over to the big bed in the corner of the room, sits down, and holds his head in his hands. Which is so unlike him and his normal bravado that it catches me completely off guard.
I step close, haltingly, like I’m afraid my presence will ruin whatever’s going on between us. Eventually, I stand between his legs and kneel so I can gently dip his chin up, urging him to look at me.
“Tell me,” I beg.
He sighs, those intense eyes staring into mine. His lips part, he swallows, licks his lips, looks for the right words, and I wait.
“I… we… this can never be anything, Sadie. There is shit you don’t know about, shit that I don’t even know about, but if you knew what I knew… you’d understand.”
“That’s a terrible explanation, Connor. You want to try again?”
He groans softly, reaching out to gently thread his hand into my long hair. “I always loved your hair, you know? Reminds me of sunlight filtering into my room. It’s beautiful.”
I press into his touch, though I don’t mean to, it’s so nice and comforting that I can almost pretend he does care about me, at least a little.
“Okay, hair aside, is there anything else you’d like to admit?”
“You’re beautiful.”
“And…?”
“You’ve always been beautiful to me.”
“What else, Connor?” I breathe. I want him to let it out, I want him to let it all out. I’ll take what I can get from him.
“I can’t be the person you deserve. Nothing good comes from being near me—being near my family. You don’t deserve the hell I’d bring down on you.”
“But why? And what makes you think I can’t make my own decisions about what I want with my life?” I murmur. My hands reach out and I capture his face, holding tight as I fight for the truth.
“There are forces at work that you can’t know about. Things that would destroy you to know them. And… my father. Sadie, I can’t. I can’t bring him down on you. I care...,” he trails off, again. And I’m not having it.
“Care, what? What do you care about, Connor? Tell me! Please!” I can feel the tears forming in my eyes and the stress of the evening combining with this conversation is pushing me over the edge.
His hand comes up to rest over mine as he declares, “I care about you. But it’s not enough. It was never going to be enough.”
“Why?” I manage.
He only shakes his head sadly. “Don’t do this, Sadie. Don’t make me hurt you.”
“You’ve been hurting me since we were children, how could this be any different?” I choke out.
He bites his lip, brow furrowing as he seems to make a decision—against his better judgment if his expression is anything to go by. With a soft growl, my hands are off his face and his are under my arms lifting me and pulling me right on top of him as he leans back in the bed and just… holds me.
He’s warm and solid beneath my body. I can feel his heartbeat against my cheek, hear his rapid pulse as he holds me tight. His masculine scent envelops me, the woodsy, fresh smell of him is strangely hypnotic and I know it’ll feature in my dreams of him.
“Connor…,” I start, but he shushes me softly.
“Just… for a moment. Just let us be like this, Okay? Let me keep this—keep you. Just like this,” he murmurs before pressing a quick kiss against the top of my head.
So, I let him hold me and, eventually, my hands spread out and I just hold him back. My throat burns with barely contained emotions as I register just how profound this moment is.
I’ve wanted to hug him since the moment I saw him again, if I’m being honest. Wanted to go back to the way we used to be when we were kids when we’d hug like it was nothing. And I miss it so much that finally the tears leak out and stain the front of his shirt.
“Don’t cry. Please don’t cry. I hate it when you cry,” he begs.
“Then stop making me cry,” I say with a sniffle.
“I wish I could. You deserve so much better than what you’re getting from me.”
And he’s right. I do. I should move on from him. Should forget him. But I can’t. I want to have him back more than almost anything and the logical part of my brain knows how stupid that is, but the sentimental part of my heart aches for him. Has always ached for him, ever since he cut me off as a child.
“I don’t want better. I just want what we had,” I stammer.
“Sadie, that….”
“Isn’t possible. I know. I know it’s not. So why can’t you just forget me—leave me alone? Why am I in your arms?”
He sighs and I feel it against my chest. “I can’t let you go. I’ll never let you go. I can’t have you, but I’m never letting go of your memory. It’s selfish and I don’t care. None of this is my choice, so I’m going to take what I can, when I can.”
“Even if it breaks my heart?” I whisper.
“Even if it breaks mine,” he replies.
“Wouldn’t it be easier to just… stop? All of this? The bullying? The kisses? Whatever the hell we’re doing in bed together? Just… all of it?”
“It would be, do you want me to stop? Have the kisses been so bad? Do you want me to push you off right now?”
“I just… it’s not that any of that has been bad, but it’s confusing and.…”
“And you still want it. And you still enjoy it,” he murmurs and I say nothing because it’s the truth. Despite how it hurts, despite how I know it’s not going anywhere good, I do want it. I do want him.
“You really are the worst,” I say with a sigh.
“That’s why you love me.”
And again, I say nothing, because it’s the truth—he is the worst and I do love him. And it’s terrible and heartbreaking and I hate myself for it and I hate him more for making me feel this way when I should feel anything but.
Eventually, his arms loosen slightly, a hand comes up and gently threads into my hair, fingers caressing as neither of us makes any move to pull apart. My hand traces over his broad chest, feeling the muscles of his body tense and relax as I touch him and, all at once, things change between us.
There’s always an underlying current running between us, that love/hate between us so strong that it doesn’t take much to set us off. And right now, I’m on top of him, body pressing into his, as he holds me. And it’s a lot. It’s more than I’d ever expected and I want more.
“Connor…,” I whisper his name. And whatever he hears in it, whether the breathiness or the aching way I murmur the syllables, he takes it for the invitation that it is.
His hand comes up and gently tilts my head back. I can see him, and he can see me. No hiding what we want, not here, not now.
“I’m going to kiss you,” he warns and I swallow.
As if I haven’t been hoping for just that. “Then stop talking and do it,” I growl and he laughs.
“Fiery to the end, MacLean,” he replies just a moment before his lips brush against mine—once, twice.
He’s so soft and gentle like he’s afraid to scare me away with his touch. But I want more. If I’m going to make a deal with the devil, I’m going to make it worth it. He tastes like cotton candy, like alcohol, like sin. I slide a hand up over his cheek, curling in the back of his hair as I hold his head tight and deepen the kiss.
And it’s worth it because Connor lets out the sexiest little moan as one of his hands slides down my back, di
pping low before hitching on my curves to hold me tight against him.
Tight enough that I can feel just how much he’s enjoying this. I feel dizzy with my desire, with the power that comes along with knowing that someone likes you, really likes you and wants you in the same way you want them. I know it’s only this moment, I know things are broken and weird between us. But, for right now, I’m going to forget there are a million reasons not to be doing this right now and just let myself live.
Make mistakes. Enjoy the feel of a handsome boy beneath me. Love the way his touch seems to memorize the valleys and peaks of my body as he kisses me till we’re both breathless. And, as this is a deal with the devil, I’m not even close to finished with him.
My eyes flutter open as his tongue gently swipes at the seam of my mouth, pressing inside to tangle with my own. Connor paces himself, knows when to pull back and when to press forward. He feels like a dream beneath me.
His hand is still on my ass when I daringly shift, skirt riding high, as I spread my legs over his hips and press tightly against him. He likes that—must be able to see everything, but I don’t care because—Oh, I like it too. I feel like my body is going to combust as I press up from him and move as we moan in unison, hips shifting as I take things further between us.
“Sadie,” he growls and I really, really shouldn’t enjoy the sound of it as much as I do. The way he says my name, almost as much as how he feels against me, is sending my body into overdrive. I feel electric, like every piece of me is sensitized and overwhelmed by him.
This absolutely gorgeous, breathless, asshole. I’m inexperienced and I’m sure it must show, but to his credit, Connor just lets me find my feet as I slowly, achingly, roll my hips against him. It feels so good, this sensation, the heat between us—the friction.
I never thought I was going to be into this kind of thing, but of course, it would be someone like Connor O’Brien who would awaken a need inside of me that I didn’t know was there.