Page 90 of Sweet Sinners
The covers are suddenly ripped away, cool air rushing across my flushed, heated skin. Connor grips my hair possessively, propping himself up on one elbow, his intense eyes locking onto mine. His gaze is dark, hungry, raw, and it makes my pulse spike dangerously high. He tugs my hair gently, guiding my mouth, watching every flick of my tongue as his restraint shatters completely.
“Fuck, Cali,” he gasps roughly, hips jerking as he reaches his peak. My name breaks from his lips in a low, raw growl, sending a hot shiver down my spine. His release spills into my mouth, hot and perfect, and I swallow every drop, savoring him until he’s utterly spent.
Slowly, I sit back on my heels, licking my lips deliberately, savoring the lingering taste of him as I wipe the corner of my mouth. Connor stares at me, chest heaving, eyes heavy with exhaustion and lingering hunger.
I grin at him and slide off the bed, grabbing one of his discarded shirts from the bedroom floor. Pulling it over my head, I let it settle over my body, hanging loosely over my thighs. Behind me, the bed springs creak softly, and when I glance back, Connor’s sitting up, eyes roaming over my ass with a slow, appreciative smirk.
“You wake me up like that, and now you're walking away?” he asks, voice still rough with sleep but laced with playful accusation. “Cruel, Angel."
I turn back, rolling my eyes as I gather my messy hair into a knot on top of my head, heading toward the bathroom. “Considering you knocked me out cold by 9:00 last night, you should be thanking me for letting you sleep this long.”
His soft chuckle follows me into the bathroom. After a quick rinse and quiet laughter beneath the warm spray, we stumble back to his room, skin damp and bodies humming with lingering pleasure. But the contentment falters when Connor catches sight of the bedside clock.
“6:00 AM?” He groans dramatically, scrubbing a hand down his tired face. “On a Saturday, Cali? You're killing me.”
I smile slyly, slipping past him toward the stairs. “You'll survive.”
Downstairs, the kitchen is already bathed in dim morning light, cool and quiet. There's still about two hours until the staff begins toarrive. I start pulling ingredients from the fridge, determined to finally make Connor breakfast, but my efforts falter when his arms wrap around my waist, pulling me gently against him. Warm lips brush the back of my neck, and a shiver runs through me as his hips press into mine.
“I thought I was cooking,” I murmur, breath hitching at his touch.
“You are,” he whispers, his lips brushing my ear. “I'm just helping.”
Laughing softly, I turn in his arms, wrapping mine around his neck. “At this rate, we’ll never make breakfast.”
“I'm okay with starving,” he replies quietly, his forehead pressing against mine. My smile fades slightly as reality creeps back in, bringing with it the shadow we've both been ignoring.
My smile fades, anxiety twisting quietly in my chest. “We should follow up with the case today,” I whisper, uncertainty coloring my words. “Everything’s been too calm, Connor. Like a storm’s about to break.”
Connor exhales slowly, eyes opening, and his gaze locks steadily onto mine—careful, controlled, too damn calm. “You asked for no stress this week. Remember? It’s supposed to be just us this weekend, Cali. Can’t we just…enjoy this?”
He gently releases me, turning back toward the stove to busy himself with breakfast, even though we both know I’m supposed to cook this morning, no matter how disastrous that might turn out. He’s avoiding something, steering us away from the conversation, and irritation flares sharply in my chest.
“So there is something?” I press sharply, suspicion bubbling to the surface, making my voice tight. “Something you've been keeping from me? Are you hiding this from the police too?”
Connor sighs, setting the spatula down slowly and facing me again, his eyes meeting mine with that infuriating calm that tells me he’sbeen bracing himself for this moment. “The police don’t exactly trust my word, Cali. You know that.” He pauses, choosing his next words carefully. “But if you really want to know…”
“Of course, I want to know!” I snap, frustration and worry bleeding through each word. “How long have you known this? How long have you been keeping secrets from me?”
His gaze softens, regret flickering across his face as he steps closer, hands sliding gently up my thighs, pulling me close. He stands between my legs, the warmth of his palms grounding me even as my frustration tries to spiral.
“Since you pinned me against the stairs,” he admits quietly, his voice dropping low, cautious. My shock must show because suddenly the eggs are forgotten entirely, abandoned in the pan behind him. His thumbs brush slow circles against my thighs, his expression turning serious, almost vulnerable. “You told me no more stress, Calliope. And some things…” He pauses, searching my eyes like he’s trying to gauge how much I can handle. “I just haven’t figured out how to tell you.”
I grip his shirt tighter, needing to ground myself against the storm of emotions churning inside me. “Connor, you’ve carried enough for this family already. You don’t have to shield me anymore. We're supposed to share this weight—together. I’m handling the company, the house, the endless daily grind, but I need the truth from you. No more lies, no more secrets. I can't keep fumbling around in the dark."
Connor opens his mouth, pausing as if he’s searching for the right words. He flips the eggs absently, and then his hand returns to my thigh, gently squeezing, steadying me again. "I'm not keeping secrets from you, Cali. I've saved everything I found—every file, every piece of evidence—on my computer. You can read it yourself or let me walk you through it, but…" He hesitates, his gaze locked onto mine, raw and careful. "Angel, this isn’t something you can unsee. I don’t want it to ruin how you remember your dad."
My throat tightens, my voice barely more than a whisper. "Anna said the same thing—that I shouldn't dig deeper because I wouldn’t like what I'd find. But as long as my dad didn't rape or murder anyone, I can handle whatever else comes out. He didn't deserve to die over some bad choices."
Connor’s jaw tightens slightly, but he nods, accepting my resolve. "Then we'll take breakfast upstairs. You can see it all yourself. I'll explain everything, and we'll handle whatever comes next."
I nod slowly, biting back the ache of uncertainty threatening to choke me. Connor leans forward and kisses my cheek gently, the warmth lingering. He reads me easily—he always does—and knows better than to push when I’m teetering this close to the edge.
"The sooner, the better," I finally say, forcing my voice back into that clipped, steady tone I use in the boardroom.
He chuckles softly, shaking his head as he turns back to the stove. "Stop turning me on with that bossy tone and let me finish this, Angel."
I smile despite myself, pressing my lips closed dramatically. A quiet moment passes, nothing but the sound of eggs sizzling filling the space between us, until Connor clears his throat softly, his back still turned.
