Page 77 of Sweet Sinners
“Starving,” I admit softly, my voice rougher than intended, betraying way more than just hunger.
His gaze trails down my body slowly, deliberately, until I'm fighting the urge to squirm under his stare. Connor turns back to the stove,flipping something sizzling in the pan as I step hesitantly into the kitchen. Burglarizing my own goddamn house.
Lately, around him, that's exactly what it feels like—like I'm breaking rules I didn't even know existed.
"Is that for both of us?" I nod toward the food he's preparing. I already know the answer, but the silence between us is too heavy to let linger.
"I never cook just for myself," Connor replies, glancing over his shoulder at me. "And you ran off this morning."
"You…" I start sharply, wanting to snap back—to remind him he's the one who drew the damn line in the sand—but saying it out loud would reveal too much. It would show him I care, show him how much I still want him, even after he made it clear crossing that line was a terrible idea. I force my voice to soften. "I didn't run off. I was doing research. You said we need to find out who framed you. If the killer still works with me…" I trail off, suddenly unsure whether I'm defending myself or justifying why I avoided him all day.
"Yeah, that's important," Connor says flatly, no enthusiasm in his voice, eyes focused on the food.
"Connor," I whisper, hesitant, unsure how to handle the tension coiling tight between us.
He flips a burger, then gestures for me to come closer. I hesitate for a heartbeat, then step forward slowly as he takes a deep breath.
"We almost kissed," he says bluntly, motioning between us with the spatula. "This…" He exhales, frustration heavy in his voice. "You in my room last night—that can't happen again."
"I meant what I said," I hiss defensively. "I was scared to sleep alone."
"I know you were honest." His gaze holds mine, steady and intense, filled with unspoken accusations and questions—maybe something dangerously in between.
It makes me feel smaller somehow, vulnerable. I draw in an unsteady breath. "I…why are you frustrated, or—"
"For the same reason you're frustrated. The same reason you snapped at the police." His voice lowers, rough and raw, cutting straight through my defenses. "And I'm betting it's the same damn reason you've been hiding from me all day."
Frustration coils tightly inside my chest, and I fight the childish urge to shove him or stomp my foot. I'm sick of half-truths, sick of trying to read between his carefully chosen words. Crossing my arms tightly, I fix him with a glare. "You're being an ass, and you know it. You said we couldn't do this. That’s pretty fucking clear. So if you suddenly have a problem with me putting space between us—the same goddamn space you asked for—then be an adult and say something."
Connor flips the burger roughly out of the pan, then turns toward me slowly, eyes narrowing, jaw hardening. My pulse spikes, adrenaline surging as he stalks closer. Every step he takes sends my pulse racing faster, until he stops inches away, his chest rising and falling rapidly, eyes locked on mine.
"You've been avoiding me all day," he growls softly.
I lift my chin, defiant even as my pulse stutters. "Because you told me to."
He shakes his head slowly, eyes smoldering as frustration darkens his expression. "I never said to ignore me."
"You didn’t have to," I snap. "Everything about your body language screamed 'stay away.' If you want me closer, if you don't want distance, then just say it."
His eyes ignite, fierce and hungry, as he fists my ponytail, yanking my head back. I gasp softly, heart jolting as his mouth hovers so close to mine, his breath hot and ragged against my lips. "It'd be a hell of a lot easier if you were scared of me," he whispers roughly. His voicevibrates through my skin, dangerous and thrilling all at once. "Maybe then you wouldn’t drive me so fucking insane."
Before I can fire back, he crushes his lips to mine, stealing whatever breath I have left. I clutch at him instantly, pulling him closer, nails digging into his shoulders as his tongue sweeps past my lips. His taste floods my senses—hot, demanding, addictive—and my body arches closer, desperate for more. He bites down on my lower lip just hard enough to make me moan, pain and pleasure blending into one perfect rush.
He pushes me back against the counter, his body pinning me hard, and my pulse pounds in rhythm with his. He groans into my mouth, hips grinding into mine, and I echo the sound helplessly, lost in him, craving whatever he'll give me. Heat coils low in my belly, so intense I feel like I might burn alive from nothing but his kiss.
Can a person melt from kissing alone? Because fuck, I'm about to.
"Connor," I breathe against his lips, shivering as his hands roam possessively down my waist, pulling me closer. My fingers dig into his chest, tracing hard muscle beneath heated skin, my body betraying every logical thought I've ever had.
His lips drag along my jaw, his voice rough and dark in my ear. "You taste better than anything I've ever made."
"L-liar," I whisper, but my words are shaky, weak, a meaningless denial swallowed by the fire raging between us.
He sinks his teeth into my throat, and I gasp, gripping his shoulders as heat slices through me. Every other guy I've been with handled me gently, cautiously—afraid to leave a mark, always careful to stay in my father’s good graces. They claimed it was out of respect, but it just felt weak, impersonal. Getting someone to leave even the slightest bruise was a battle I could never win.
But Connor doesn't hesitate. He bites down harder, possessively, fanning flames that make me dizzy with need.
"Connor," I breathe out, nails digging into his back, desperate for more.
