Page 26 of Ripped

Connor’s lying on the couch, curled up on his side, and staring blankly into the middle of the room. I crouch down in front of him, putting my hand on his arm.

“Hey, how about we get you upstairs to bed.” I watch his pupils dilate as he focuses on my face.

“Will you stay with me?”

God, yes, I’ll stay with him. Not even for him. I need it for me. “Come on.”

We climb the stairs like we’re moving through molasses. Every step is a struggle, every step brings us closer to victory, and we only have each other to cling to along the way. We fall into Connor’s bed like we’re drowning men washed up on shore. I have barely enough energy to get us under the covers.

I drag Connor to me and he molds himself to my side, head on my shoulder, one leg tossed over my thighs. We sink into the mattress together. Home. Finally.

He’s out almost immediately, but I stare at the ceiling for a while.

I don’t recognize the man I became during that confrontation with Miles. He felt eerily like the man who had confronted Beau. Connor brings out something in me that I’ve never experienced before and frankly, it’s kind of scary. I’m in my forties. I shouldn’t be uncovering latent parts of my personality at this age, should I?

I mean, I’ve always been a caretaker, I’ve always been pretty protective of people who are important to me. But the way I stood up to Beau and the way I was actively trying to intimidate Miles, this is a whole other level entirely. This is like… maybe a little unhealthy.

The scariest part is, I would do it again. Both times.

My thumb drifts to my ring finger and I twirl the band around and around. If Connor had stumbled into Mars when Roger was still alive, Roger would’ve been just as furious at Miles as I was. He would’ve been just as frustrated with Beau too. I’m sure of it.

He would’ve let Connor stay in the guest room for as long as he needed to. But would he have invited Connor to move in with us? Probably not.

Except Roger’s not here anymore. That old familiar surge of pain in my chest makes me gasp. He’s not here and he’s not coming back. I haven’t been able to let go of him in all this time. Maybe this is the universe’s way of forcing me to move on. Maybe Roger’s out there somewhere, pushing Connor into my path, saying enough is enough.

I close my eyes against the tears that well up and spill over. I hold Connor tighter to me and he sighs in his sleep. I don’t want to let go. I don’t want to move on. I’m okay where I am.

But Connor’s body feels breathtakingly good against mine. His smile fills me with warmth and his laugh makes me all giddy. I’ve been happier in the last two days than I’ve been in ages, even with the emotional rollercoaster we’re riding.

I want him. And that’s terrifying.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CONNOR

I’m running through a forest full of lemons. It doesn’t make sense and I don’t care. I just breathe in deeply and then drop to the ground to tumble around in some lemon-scented leaves. They smell so good, so soothing and comforting, and I burrow in deeper until I’m covered in them.

“Connor.”

A deliciously husky, British voice whispers my name in my ear.

“Connor.”

He sounds like he smiling, like he’s trying not to laugh. But I want him to laugh, loud and bright, and I want to laugh with him until we’re both exhausted and out of breath.

“Wake up, darling.”

Wait a minute. I open my eyes to a dimly lit room and immediately slam them shut again. I want to go back to the lemon forest. I want to take Donnie with me. Then I’ll never have to deal with the literal mountain of trash sitting downstairs and I’ll never have to decide how I’m going to self-sabotage my career.

I groan and snuggle down into Donnie. I’ve been using him as a human pillow and I’m not sorry. He smells amazing, his body is the epitome of solid masculine beauty, and there’s that notable erection against my thigh again.

I grind myself against him. Shameless, I know. He gasps and the hand he’s got on my thigh grips me like he wants to crush me to him. I grind against him again.

“Connor,” Donnie breathes. There is a hint of warning in it, but his arms are so tight around me, I’m not sure I could get out of his embrace even if I wanted to.

“Do you want me to stop?” I ask, whispering against that spot between his jaw and his ear.

Donnie shudders and for a split second, I’m afraid he’s going to say yes.

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