Page 27 of Captivated

My breath catches, and for a split second, I picture myself letting go and falling into his arms. “It was never about a lack of chemistry, Connor. You know that as well as I do.”

He reaches out to touch my hair, letting the strands slide between his fingers. “I like your hair like this,” he murmurs, as if distracted from the conversation at hand. “It’s longer.”

Without warning, he slides his arms around me and pulls me close, so close that my breasts press against his firm chest. The pressure feels so good I could cry.

“You never answered my question,” he says in a low, quiet voice. His gaze heats as he strokes my back.

I step back, breaking out of his hold. “This isn’t a good idea, Connor.”

“Why not? We’re two consenting adults who happen to want each other.”

“I don’t think your family would agree.”

“My grandfather’s dead.”

“He wasn’t the only one who wanted me gone.”

“It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks or says. Don’t you think it should beourdecision, and ours alone?”

“Yes, but—”

“Nobuts, Kennedy. I don’t need your protection.” He takes my hand and presses it to his chest. “The only thing I need is you.”

I’m stunned by the mix of pain and longing I see in his eyes—and the naked honesty.

When I don’t reply, Connor shakes his head in frustration. “Let me know if you still feel the same.” Then he walks away, heading for his bedroom. When he reaches the door, he pauses and glances back at me. “For what it’s worth, I would have chosen you over the inheritance, no question. But you never gave me the chance to make that decision, did you? No, you decided for me. And frankly, Kennedy, you chose wrong.”

When he disappears into his bedroom, he slams the door so hard the wall shakes, and the sound echoes loud and ominous through the small cottage.

Chapter 10

Connor Murphy

I lean back against my bedroom door and suck in a deep breath. My heart is pounding, and my jaws are clenched so tightly I’m sure I’m close to cracking teeth.

How could she have kept this from me?

Better yet, how could my own grandfather—a man who claimed to love me—chase away the woman I loved? My grandfather was a strong personality, but I always thought he was fair. Kennedy has never been one who could be easily pushed around, but my grandfather did have the ability to bring the most confident and self-assured of people to their knees. I can only imagine the derogatory tone in which he delivered those vile words to Kennedy.

In hindsight, I realize she never stood a chance against him. He’d lived many decades in a position of tremendous wealth and power, and he was used to getting his own way. She was so much younger back then. What chance did she have of standing up to him? Especially all by herself.

I meant what I said to her. If I’d had to choose between my inheritance and Kennedy, I’d have chosen her in a heartbeat. I’d have gladly lived a hand-to-mouth lifestyle in a pokey London flat just to be with her. As long as I had her in my life, nothing else mattered.

I push off the door and start pacing. I’m seconds away from charging through this door and confronting her, but I stop as my fingers make contact with the cool brass handle. If I’ve learned anything about Kennedy it’s not to meet her head on, as tempting as it may be. I need to give her time to think and let her come to me.

If I was in my penthouse apartment back in London, I’d take my frustration out on the equipment in my home gym. But with nothing to do here for a release, I do the only thing I can. I strip and head for the bathroom to take a hot shower.

I switch on the overhead bathroom lights, which reflect off the slate gray tiles. The bathroom is spacious, with white cabinets. The vanity includes two sinks, and the toilet is in a little room of its own. The shower is walk-in, the walls covered with the same slate gray tiles—Italian, by the look of them. The showerhead is one of those fancy overhead fixtures. I turn on the water and set the temperature. Instantly, hot water rains down.

Nice.

It would seem Will and Skye spared no expense on the modern conveniences.

A trio of soft blue LED lights illuminates the water as it cascades down, setting a relaxing tone, which is exactly what I need right now. I need to relax before I put my fist through a wall.

I step under the spray and revel in the hot water streaming down my torso. Closing my eyes, I lift my face to the water and let it wash away my anger and frustration. I try to let it all go because I don’t want to be angry at Kennedy. This mess wasn’t her doing. It was my grandfather’s.

I think back to a happier time when Kennedy and I shared the flat in London. I can still picture those ugly pea-green wall tiles in the bathroom and the archaic fluffy toilet seat cover. It was awfully outdated, but we didn’t mind. It was ours.

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