Page 70 of Connor

“Just don’t read anything they write. Social media can be toxic, and it’s best not to look at any of it,” he says, and I nod.

“I’m now starting to understand why you prefer to be in Whispers,” I murmur.

With another sigh, he nods. “Let’s go. I think your mom’s tea is working.” He jumps out and runs around to my door, and as he opens it, I cackle a laugh. Understanding washes over me about what he said before my laughter is whipped from my body as his hands grab me from the car, his lips take mine, and we walk to the elevator and head into the apartment, the media now a mere speed bump in our glorious day together.

* * *

“You got a delivery?”I ask as we walk inside, the amazing penthouse looking just as beautiful as when we left this morning—apart from some boxes that sit on his kitchen counter.

“I got a few things.” He walks over and opens one of the boxes. I watch as he pulls out a few things, unwrapping them, and I gasp when he pulls out one of the items.

“Is that a teapot?”

“Yeah. I wasn’t sure what you liked, but there’s nothing good here in the apartment for you to brew your teas, so I got the team at Bergdorf to send something over. Do you like it?” he asks, stepping back and looking at me.

I can barely breathe. I mean, it’s only a teapot, but it’s white and green, made from what I think is porcelain, and I step forward to touch it.

“It’s beautiful,” I say, looking it over, my eyes almost bugging from my head when I see the familiar Gucci brand mark. I swallow, not wanting to know what he spent on it. “You didn’t have to get this. It’s too much…”

“I wanted to. I want you to feel at home here, with me. And nothing is too much for you, baby girl.”

I swear this man has my knees wobbling every day. Again, his caring nature peeks through, and I wonder if I’m the only one who gets to see this side of him. I feel honored that I might be.

“What else did you get?” Seeing more boxes, I take a moment to gather my thoughts and calm my breathing.

“Delivery of some whiskey that I had sent over from the office,” he tells me, opening the box and pulling out a few bottles from his range. None of which I recognize, but they all have slightly different labels, so I assume they’re all different. I look at his already full bar, not knowing where he’s going to put them.

I see one called Next Door, and one says something about a single malt, another one is double aged, and then my hands rest on a bottle, the label intriguing me.

“Father Son?” I question, reading the name on the label and looking further at the details. “Aged in Whispers for seventeen years?”

“That’s my favorite,” he says, placing all the bottles on the counter, the box out of the way.

“The one you made with your dad when you were younger?” I remember him telling me about it when I first landed in Whispers.

“You remember?” he asks, smiling.

“Of course,” I tell him, biting my lip as his grin widens.

“So, how ’bout it?” he asks, gesturing to the bottle, and I look at him, confused.

“About what?” I ask, then place the bottle down as he steps toward me, his hands circling my waist, my temperature rising at his touch, already breathless from the way he looks at me.

“Want to try some of my whiskey, baby girl? Because I sure as hell want to see it on your lips,” he growls.

I barely nod, before he’s taking my lips in a searing kiss, our night of whiskey tasting starting now.

33

CONNOR

Iblame the tea her mother gave me. The minute Daisy nodded at my request to put whiskey on her lips, I devoured her. I stripped her bare, exactly where we stood, and kissed her pussy until she screamed. Now my cock is hard, my taste buds are eager for more, and her body is stress free as she sits on the sofa, completely naked except for my shirt draped over her shoulders, looking like every man's wet dream.

I gather the things I need on a tray and take it over, placing it all on the large coffee table and taking a seat beside her.

“Mmmmm, I always wanted to be served by a topless waiter,” she teases, her eyes sparkling, and it’s one of my favorite things to see.

“Well, glad I can be of service,” I say with a chuckle as I open the bottles.

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