Page 60 of Connor's Claim

I shivered, not hating the idea.

He grinned. “Now get up.”

“What are we doing?”

“Showering. Then I’m going to fuck ye again so you’re wearing my cum, as per the rules, when we’re ready to go downstairs. When we’re outside of this apartment?—”

“I can wear clothes?” I joked.

His gaze dropped to a glower, so instantly menacing my insides tightened in lust and need.

“You’ll stay close to me at all times or be escorted by a guard. Do anything else and I’ll lead ye by the scruff of your neck to the brothel where you’ll pick out your restraints yourself.”

That shouldn’t have been hot. He’d always been gentle and sweet with me. I had the impression I was getting to know another side of Connor, and against all common sense, I was pretty certain I was going to like it.

We showered together, Connor taking his time over washing me thoroughly. His dick was hard again, that piercing glinting at the end, though he wouldn’t let me touch him. His fingertips lingered on my chest. Over the marks left by Piers. There were also love bites on my breasts which were clearly Connor’s doing, a fact I liked all too much.

“He came after ye down the garden,” Connor said. “The man you’d gone on a date with then barricaded your door against. Who the fuck was he to think he could behave like that?”

“I hardly know. I think my father offered me to him. What happened, did he find us?”

But Connor stared. “Your father pimped ye out?”

Shame pierced me. I managed a nod.

“I hit him a couple of times,” he finally said. “Wish I’d done more, but we’d run out of time. That fucker needs to go down, and so does your da. I should’ve handled him a long time ago.”

“Listen, about my father?—”

Abruptly, Connor stepped away. “No. I don’t want to hear it. That’s another rule, but for my sanity. Spare me any excuses or justification over your da, please. He’s your past, and I’m your future. We’re never talking about him again.”

He swung open the shower door and grabbed a towel. “Take as long as ye need,” he threw back.

Then he left me to stare after him, half in agreement, half knowing this was all so, so wrong.

Chapter 21

Everly

A hairdryer waited on the bed, along with one of Connor’s notes.

USE ME.

Sighing in agreement, I dried my hair in soft waves. Connor and I were using each other, but I couldn’t regret it. Safety surrounded me like a warm blanket, and I dressed in a pair of leggings and a long t-shirt. The apartment was cosy for a big space, but I grabbed a hoodie to wear downstairs when we left.

My phone vibrated on the bed. I ignored it.

I had missed calls from my father along with a string of messages, the last of which I’d scanned the preview.

Father: What the hell was that email to work? You cannot simply disappear like this. I will expect you home…

The rest of the message was off-screen. I didn’t bother reading it.

Another buzz came but from somewhere out in the apartment. I left the bedroom and peered into the living room. On a stool by the kitchen counter, under a bright lamp, Connor had a device in his hand—a tattoo gun, I realised—and was scribing on his arm.

He lifted his focus to me. It sank to my chest, then he shook his head once. “Off.”

My cheeks flamed. “I thought we were going downstairs?”

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