While Peyton painted on the porch the next morning, Connor cleaned up around the house.

He had to laugh at what an absolute mess they’d made in just a few of days – pillows on the floor, furniture pushed out of place. Their sex life this week had definitely left a trail of havoc, but tidying it up meant reliving the memories, so Connor didn’t mind. In fact, he kind of enjoyed it. For Christ’s sake, he almost got hard when he spotted his razor on the floor of his bathroom, since it had been a result of bending Peyton over the sink the second she stepped out of the shower.

Fuck. Connor groaned from just the memory of her reflection as he kneaded her breasts and sank deep inside her. Just watching the pleasure twist on her face was enough to make him come. And right this second, just thinking of all her little whimpers and moans was enough to tempt him to walk outside, throw her over his shoulder and toss her onto his bed.

But he contained his urges.

Miraculously, more than sex, he wanted Peyton to have some peace for once – some quiet, worry-free time devoted a hundred percent to herself. He couldn’t think of anyone who deserved that more than she did – especially today. In less than twenty-four hours, they’d be back in New York, and just like that, Peyton would return to being chained to the Cohans. If they wanted to see each other, they’d be back to sneaking around.

Which kind of fucking sucked.

Connor snorted when his friend’s text came in. He knew it had been a mistake to call Liam before and gripe about the bullshit Peyton had to deal with, but he was getting desperate. He needed ideas – ways to free Peyton from her debt to the Cohans.

While he and Liam had gotten briefly excited about the prospect of finding Kensie some kick-ass assistant, their texts around to friends yielded zero results. Apparently, the vets who’d actually last more than a week with Kensie were also smart enough to avoid the job. So just like that, Connor was back to square one.

Connor snorted before replying with “fuck you” and tossing his phone on the couch. Frustrated, he exhaled a string of profanity under his breath, but once he heard the sound of the front door swinging open, he fixed his face. He refused to let his shitty mood ruin Peyton’s last day of relaxation.

Besides, one look at her and the weight in his chest quickly lifted.

“Connor!” Peyton protested when she found him in the living room. “I told you to wait for me to clean!” she frowned, looking fucking adorable in her messy topknot, white shirt and paint-speckled shorts. Connor smiled.

“Don’t worry. I can think of a few ways for you to make it up to me.”

“Oh really.” Peyton smirked as she folded her arms and sauntered toward him. “And how is that?”

Connor took his time to answer, letting his gaze travel from the smooth skin of her legs to her crossed arms pushing up her perfect breasts. And just like that, he knew what he wanted.

Tilting his head, he gave a nod at her top.

“Take that off for me.”

Her lack of hesitation went straight to his dick. Connor wondered how the fuck he’d gotten so lucky as he stood in his living room, head cocked just so as he watched Peyton undo the buttons on her shirt. His stare grew heavy when it finally fell open to reveal her belly button and the rounds of her breasts. Wetting his lips, Connor smoothed his palm over his cock, stroking his hard shaft over his jeans as Peyton held her shirt open for him. She even threw in a playful shimmy that made her bounce so hard Connor almost came on the spot.

“The rest,” he murmured as he watched Peyton close the gap between them. He groaned with pure torment when she obliged by pinning her kittenish gaze on him and turning around to strip off her shorts. Fuck. Me. Connor stared in awe as she slowly bent over to push the denim down her tanned legs, her perfect ass grazing his stiff dick along the way. “Christ, baby.”

And just like that, he lost all self-control. Yanking her back by the hips, he growled, rubbing his cock against her ass till she moaned for him to get naked already.

While they started in the living room, they ended upstairs in his bed.

After letting her win their wrestle for the top, Connor gladly laid back to watch Peyton swivel those perfect hips, her hands thrust in her hair as she rode him like something out of his dreams. Jesus Christ. It had to be ten different times that Connor resisted the urge to blow his fucking load. The fact that he held out even as she clawed his chest and came on top of him was nothing short of a miracle.

“I swear,” he growled, every inch of his shaft still buried inside her as he reclaimed the top. “Only you could make me feel this good,” he groaned, in such ecstasy that he felt like he was losing his mind. “No one else, Peyton. Only you.”

The words ground out from between his gnashed teeth as he drowned in pure, unadulterated bliss. Peyton could actually feel Connor losing himself inside her, and she loved every second of it. The air between them was thick, hot, filled to the brim with their passion and swirling with a million words unspoken. But Peyton could almost feel them as Connor growled, his entire body hard as a rock as he pumped his hips and thrust inside her, edging her toward a second climax.

This time when she came, she took him right with her.

Peyton’s mouth fell open as they rocked against each other, their eyes locked and their hands grasping desperately for one another. Her body humming and her brain buzzing, she bit down on her lip, locking in those words she knew she shouldn’t say.

But it was so hard.

It was so fucking hard when Connor kept saying all those things that made her so happy she felt delirious. Only you could make me feel this good. I could look at you forever.

What the hell was she supposed to do?

“Connor, I think – ”

Peyton caught herself as he rolled on his back and pulled her on top of his chest. He was so sweet, his eyes so earnest as he waited for to say the rest. But she couldn’t. It was too dangerous. It was nothing but a bad idea, and she wouldn’t allow herself to do it.

“I’m falling in love with you, Connor.”

Or maybe she could.

Fuck.

Peyton froze with her mouth still open. Somehow, the words had tumbled out. She hadn’t wanted them to. She definitely hadn’t given permission, yet here she was, living that classic nightmare moment as Connor stared back at her in wordless surprise. It could’ve been two, three seconds that passed, but to Peyton, it felt like forever. An eternity. Another second of silence and she was sure she’d climb off his chest, slide off the bed and run all the way back to New York.

But to her relief, Connor broke into a grin that crinkled his eyes.

“Come here,” he murmured, holding a handful of Peyton’s damp hair as he crushed his lips against hers, kissing away any doubt she had that he didn’t feel the same.

Well. Most of it at least. He hadn’t said it back, but he was kissing her now with what felt like the same love that she felt.

And just the taste of that on his lips was enough to send her drifting off on a cloud.