Page 78 of Sweet Sinners
"It’s too late to stop," he murmurs roughly against my heated skin, yanking me flush against him. "Now I need to know what every fucking inch of you tastes like."
Before I can answer, before I can allow logic to take over, his mouth crashes onto mine again, consuming me. Every argument we've had, every doubt, every whispered denial—it all fades beneath his lips. He told me why we couldn’t, gave me every reason to walk away, but now he's the one taking, claiming, erasing every shred of hesitation with the hunger of his mouth.
I melt into him, hands sliding across bare skin, craving everything he promised. His tongue sweeps between my lips, fierce and possessive, silencing the voice in my head screaming we shouldn't be doing this. Connor lifts me onto the counter, pushing roughly between my thighs, making it crystal clear he knows exactly what he's doing.
My head falls back as his mouth drags lower, lips hot and demanding along my neck, tongue teasing along my collarbone, tracing down to my cleavage. My body arches toward him, hips grinding against him, breath hitching as he tastes the sensitive curve between my breasts.
God, I want him everywhere. Right now.
His hands tug down at my dress impatiently, exposing more skin, his tongue following, branding me. Pleasure coils tight in my stomach, building faster with every hungry swipe of his mouth. I don't care about anything but the way he touches me, like he’s trying to erase every polite kiss, every cautious touch I've ever endured.
But just as his tongue slips lower, teasing between my breasts, reality slams into me like ice water.
We shouldn't be doing thishere. We're not alone in this house.
"Connor," I whisper breathlessly, even as my fingers twist into his hair, pulling him closer. "We—"
His mouth crushes mine, silencing my protest as his teeth sink into my bottom lip, sharp enough to send a jolt of heat straight through my core. He pulls back just enough to stare down at me, his eyes dark with hunger. "Stop talking," he growls softly. "I'm done thinking, Cali. Now it's your turn. Just fucking feel."
But I can’t—not completely. As badly as I want him, as desperately as I need his mouth, his hands, all of him, I can't ignore the reality crashing through my head. Not here, not now, not when anyone could walk in and see us, run straight to the tabloids or worse, my grandparents. I can’t risk someone labeling this as something wrong or twisted, like he's using me. Because it's the furthest thing from that, but no one else would understand.
"Easy," I whisper gently, my hands pressing lightly against his chest. "Easy, Connor. Please."
His eyes search mine, dark, wary. "What's wrong? I thought you wanted this."
I soften my touch, gently pushing at his shoulders, desperate for space even though it hurts to pull away. "It’s not that I don’t want this, Connor. God, I do. But we're in the open. Anyone could see."
Connor’s expression shutters instantly, the intensity bleeding out of his eyes, replaced by a coldness that cuts deeper than rejection ever could. "Right. Got it."
"Connor—" I start, stepping forward, but he's already retreating, straightening up and putting distance between us. My heart squeezes painfully.
"Seriously, Cali. I get it." His voice is flat, emotionless. He doesn't even glance at me again as he backs away. "You don't have to explain yourself."
But I do—I desperately want to. I want him to understand this isn't me pushing him away, it's me protecting him. Protecting us. I hop off the counter, reaching out, but he's already gone, storming toward the stairs and disappearing without even a glance toward the living room. He always avoids that room—always—but somehow, this feels worse. He looks as if he regrets ever coming back here, like he's already somewhere far away, unreachable.
I stand alone in the kitchen, suddenly cold despite the heat lingering in the air. The scent of comfort food taunts me, but my stomach twists painfully. My appetite is long gone, replaced by a hollow ache in my chest.
I want him. More than I’ve ever wanted anyone, I want Connor. But not at the cost of losing him. Not when one misstep could tear him away forever.
Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I shove my shaking hands deep into the pockets of my dress and head for the greenhouse. It’s been ages since I stepped inside, but right now I need any distraction from the way Connor looked at me—as if I'd broken something irreplaceable, something I never even realized we had.
I step inside, the humid air instantly wrapping around me, familiar and comforting. I wander slowly through the rows of greenery until my eyes land on a stack of books tucked safely on the shelf. My chest tightens. I haven’t been here in weeks, yet Connor remembered them—protected them, without a word from me. He always does that—takes care of things before I even realize they need doing. Dinner, conversation, comfort… I’ve never had to ask Connor for anything. He just sees me, knows what I need, and gives it without hesitation or expectation.
It hits me all at once how deeply I crave him—not just physically, but in every way that scares the hell out of me.
“God,” I whisper softly, pressing a hand to my heated cheek. Dean was easy to push away, a simple refusal because I never felt even a fraction for him of what I feel for Connor. But this—this ache deep in my chest—it's terrifying and real. "Why the fuck did I stop that?"
“Because you’re smart,” Connor answers quietly from the greenhouse doorway, his voice calm and sure, but his eyes intense enough to set me on fire. "With all the staff roaming around...one of the maids walked in seconds after you left."
My heart jumps painfully in my chest. He followed me out here, knew exactly where I’d hide.
"I could've handled it better," I mutter, my voice tight.
Connor takes another slow step inside, eyes never leaving mine. "You didn't do anything wrong. You were protecting us. Being careful, smart. Even if I hated it."
My lips twitch as something inside me unwinds. "I don't feel smart right now. I feel stupid, actually."
He smiles slightly, eyes warm, gentle, even as they burn straight through me. "You’re not stupid, Cali. Not even close."
