Page 66 of Sweet Sinners
"You treat me better than most people think I deserve," I rasp against her hair, my voice thick with things I can't say aloud.
She presses even closer, fingers knotting in my shirt like she needs the anchor to steady herself, her voice muffled but resolute. "You're innocent, Connor. I don't care what anyone else says—you didn't hurt our parents. You did what you had to do to survive in there. If no one else can see it, fuck them. I see you." She lifts her face, eyes fierce with determination and filled with regret. "I’m sorry I ever doubted you."
Something tightens inside me, raw and painful, clawing at the walls of my chest. Because the way she's looking at me right now, like she'd fight the entire damn world just to prove I'm worth saving…it's dangerous. It’s reckless.
It's everything I've ever needed.
I hesitate, the words lodged deep in my throat. Her support wouldn't have changed anything back then, wouldn't have spared me from a second of pain but it still matters. It matters because it's her. The realization makes my chest ache, and my grip tightens instinctively, selfishly holding onto her warmth even though I should let go. She's forbidden, off-limits, a line I'm desperate to cross, and yet I can't seem to push her away. I've missed touch—missed this—more than I ever allowed myself to admit.
Closing my eyes, I draw her impossibly closer. "Thank you," I whisper roughly, my voice thick with everything I don't dare say aloud.
She nods against my chest, a quiet sniffle shattering what's left of my defenses. Tears didn't exist in prison—they were a weakness that could end you—but Cali's tears rip into me, slicing deeper than any blade ever could.
Slowly, carefully, I slide my fingers into her hair, gently tugging until she lifts her gaze to mine. Her blue eyes are swimming, heartbreakingly vulnerable, a single tear sliding silently down her flushed cheek. Before I can stop myself, I lean in, pressing my lips to her forehead, savoring the softness of her skin.
"I'm okay," I murmur, my voice steady despite the turmoil raging inside me. "You're okay. Life is pain, Cali. We survive it until we can't."
"Connor," she whispers, her voice breaking on my name, shattering every last shred of my self-control.
"Prison wasn’t some bad dream I could wake up from. It was hell—real, brutal, and inescapable," I tell her softly, brushing my thumb across her cheek, catching another tear as it falls. "But thinking about it won’t help me move forward. So no more tears, no more worrying about my scars, and definitely no more looking at me like I might shatter."
Her brow pinches, lips parted as if to protest, and that only makes my chest tighten further. Cali’s blue eyes glisten, the pain in her expression cutting deeper than any physical wound ever could.
"But—"
"Cali, I’m a grown man," I say firmly, my voice quiet but unyielding. "I've survived this long on my own. I don't plan on stopping now."
She stares up at me, her fingers trembling slightly as they trace the rough stubble along my jaw, her touch achingly tender. I can’t look away—her face holds me captive, every soft line, every fragile shadow in her gaze promising something I can't afford to want. We’re walking a dangerous edge here, one misstep from disaster, yet neither of us pulls back.
Every moment I’m around her is pure agony, and yet I crave the pain. I want her to lean on me, to need me, even if I know I’ll ruin her in the end. She’s invaded every corner of my mind, and it's becoming impossible to pretend that I don’t want her—body, heart, and fucking soul.
"Cali," I warn softly, my voice strained with everything I shouldn’t say. "You shouldn't let me touch you."
Her eyes darken, defiant and determined as her fingers curl tighter into my shirt. "Too bad," she breathes, pulling me closer until the warmth of her body seeps into mine, drowning my resistance.
I lean down, my heart hammering as her lips part slightly, ready and waiting. Her lashes sweep downward, a breathy sigh escaping her, and I almost lose it then—almost forget everything holding me back. Our foreheads brush, mouths just barely grazing, the heat of her skin burning me from the inside out.
Then footsteps echo sharply against the marble floors.
I jerk upright, breaking the intoxicating closeness just as one of the maids appears in the doorway. Her gasp snaps the tension in the room, shattering whatever moment we nearly surrendered to.
"Miss Cali...your grandfather's on the phone," the maid murmurs, her voice wary and edged with judgment.
Cali spins around, cheeks flaming as she quickly steps away from me, hurrying toward the maid. The maid’s gaze slides my way, harsh and condemning, a bitter reminder of how the world sees me—how they'll see Cali if I let this happen.
To Cali, I’m innocent, worth trusting, even redeemable. To everyone else, I’m still the monster.
And now I have a choice: break her heart or drag her down into my darkness.
Neither option is good, but she deserves better than what I can offer.
Chapter thirty
Cali
IreassurePapouwe'refine,that Connor and I aren't at each other's throats, and everything's perfectly under control before hanging up and returning to the kitchen.
But Connor isn't there.
