Chapter Sixteen

 

Zoe

 

Jenna rings the doorbell, and as we wait, I suddenly feel nervous. Very nervous. Coming back to Connor’s house probably wasn’t the best idea, but I wasn't going to let Bryant boss me around like that. Although standing here now, I really wish I'd found a better way to assert myself.

I can't get involved with Connor. He seems like a decent guy, but I'm so messed up from all the stuff with my dad, I'm sure I'll do nothing but drag him down. He doesn't deserve that. Connor doesn't need a partner as complicated or troubled as me.

It’s been difficult ignoring his calls the last few days. I want to talk to him. Want him to make me laugh. He is the first guy who has ever been able to make me laugh like that. I really enjoy being around him. He's intelligent. Funny. Insightful. Passionate.

Connor seems to possess uncommon wisdom for this day and age. He has a rare sense of emotional intelligence you don't often see in people. He's perceptive and giving – both as a lover and a human being.

And speaking of the sex – absolutely mind-blowing. It's entirely possible that he's ruined me for all other men.

Connor Grigson has so many of the things I desire in a man. And yet, instead of embracing him, I pushed him away. He doesn't deserve to have someone like me inflicted upon him. I’m just a spineless, scared girl with debilitating daddy issues. I'm not in a good place to start a relationship right now.

He deserves better. So much better.

“Are you okay, Ms. Nichols?” Jenna asks. “You look like you might be sick.”

I turn and give Jenna a small smile. I woke up feeling a little under the weather, and it hasn't abated yet. I can hear my stomach gurgling and bubbling as bile rises in the back of my throat. Sexy.

“I'm fine,” I say. “Something I ate last night probably didn't agree with me.”

The door opens as we’re greeted by the same housekeeper from our last visit. Jenna and I follow her into the open floor of the house, and she has us take a seat on the couches where we waited on him before.

While waiting for Connor to make his appearance, I look around the room. And when my eyes fall on the painting leaning against the wall beneath the television, I feel my heart stop in my chest. I swear, I almost throw up right there on his coffee table.

“That's funny,” Jenna says, pointing at the painting. “That totally looks like you.”

It looks like me because I'm pretty sure it is me. The subject of the painting has black hair and cool, pale skin like mine. She’s lying on her side with one arm draped over her head. She looks thoughtful. Sad. It's hard to explain. It's not necessarily just the physical features of the subject that are familiar to me. It's something about the presence of the piece. Something about the aura. As crazy and ridiculous as it may seem, I am confident that's me in his painting.

Glancing at the date in the corner below his signature, I see that Connor painted it the day we first met. In the hotel. By mistake. He painted it with such care and emotion that it seems clear to me something had resonated with him that first night.

The housekeeper sets down a tray with coffee and pastries down on the table in front of us. She gives the painting a look before giving me a very knowing smile. I feel my stomach lurch and my cheeks flare with embarrassment. She knows. Damn. She totally knows.

“Mr. Grigson will be with you ladies shortly,” she says.

I make my coffee and take a sip, unable to keep my eyes from drifting over to the painting. I can’t help but be struck by how much emotion I feel in the painting, from the colors he used to the brush strokes. I've always loved art and how it can capture and preserve feelings. Knowing that I’m the subject of this piece, however, sends bolts of electricity up and down my back.

“I call it Little Girl Lost,” Connor says as he enters the room, dropping down on the couch opposite us.

“Little Girl Lost?” I ask, remembering those were the words he'd used to describe me in the restaurant before our little session in his car.

“Actually, I don't call it anything yet, but that sounded suitably dramatic,” he explains with a laugh. “I noticed you two looking at it, so I thought I better have something profound to say about it. But hey, if either of you has an idea what I could name it, I'm open to suggestions.”

“It's amazing,” Jenna says. “You're a very talented artist, Mr. Grigson. I'm Jenna, Ms. Nichols' assistant.”

“Lovely to meet you. It's just Connor though,” he says. “And thank you, Jenna. I appreciate that.”

“It looks a lot like Ms. Nichols,” Jenna says and giggles.

Connor looks at it as like he's only just noticing the resemblance. “Yeah, you're right,” he says. “I suppose it does. Funny, isn't it?”

He gives me a very pointed look, a smug grin tugging at one corner of his mouth. I swallow hard and look away. Subtle, Connor, really subtle. Thankfully, Jenna seems oblivious.

“Yeah,” I reply, my voice cracking. “Bizarre.”

“Boy, I'll say,” he replies.

Tall, fit, tanned, dressed in jeans – does this man live in jeans? – and a black polo shirt emblazoned with the logo of his winery, Connor looks like a typical California businessman on casual Friday. But, with his shoulder-length hair he also embodies the stereotypical California artist type.

He's something of a walking contradiction. A man who's lived an incredibly interesting and dangerous life, and now walking a different path than most. I respect him for it.

Connor takes a drink of his coffee and balances the mug on his knee. “So,” he says. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

I sigh and open the folder I'm carrying. I really don't want to do this. I don't want to be any part of this. But, I don’t have much of a choice, knowing that my father has me tied up in all of it, ensuring that if they go down, I do too. Not only is the specter of prison hanging over my head, but even worse, the potential loss of my license.

I honestly don't know what I'd do if I lost my ability to practice law. I might as well not even exist. It's all I've ever wanted to do. Not the kind of law my father practices though. I don't want to practice exploitative law. I want to do something that makes a difference. That helps people. My ideal would be to become a family lawyer and help the children who need it. Pro-bono.

But for now, I'm stuck and must play my role or the consequences could be severe – I might never get to do what I really want. What I feel like I'm meant to do.

“Are you feeling okay, Ms. Nichols?” Connor asks. “You're looking a little green around the gills this morning.”

“I'm fine,” I say. “I think something I ate is not agreeing with me.”

He nods, a concerned look on his face. “I can fetch you some seltzer or Pepto or something –”

“No, I'm fine. Thank you. We're actually here on business, Mr. Grigson,” I say. “The matter of Jay Hill's lawsuit is still pending, and my father would like a firm commitment on where you stand regarding the settlement.”

“Ahh yes. That,” he says.

“Yes. That,” I reply.

I've been careful to avoid his eyes, unsure if I can contain myself if I look at him. I know I need to keep myself in check – especially with Jenna right next to me. It's hard though. I still don't exactly know what it is I'm feeling, but I know I want to talk about it with Connor. We need to talk about that painting.

But, on the other hand, I know I shouldn't. I know that's a door I shouldn't open. I can't. Not because I don't want to, but because it wouldn't be fair to him. I know how messed up and damaged I am. He doesn't deserve that. I can't do that to him.

“So, how about some lunch?” Connor asks brightly.

Jenna glances at her watch and gives me a curious look. It's apparently my call to make.

“Actually,” I say, “I think it best –”

“Oh, come now,” he says, getting to his feet. “Let me give you a little tour of Six String. I've taken the liberty of having a nice lunch prepared for us over in the tasting rooms.”

Jenna is smiling, obviously into the idea. Not that I can blame her. She usually has to eat some form of greasy take-out in the office while pouring over hundreds and hundreds of case files. She doesn't get out much, so the idea of a free lunch in such a fancy winery must have tremendous appeal for her.

“Come on,” Connor chides me. “Jenna is chomping at the bit for a little lunch. You wouldn't deny your assistant a bite to eat now, would you?”

Jenna is smiling at Connor, her cheeks flushing. I doubt there's really any trouble I can get into. After all, we'll be in a public place with people around us. Surely, we can control ourselves, right? I glance at my watch and give Connor a tight smile.

“That sounds great,” I say. “Thank you, Mr. Grigson.”

“Excellent,” he says. “If you ladies would do me the honor of coming with me, then.”

He leads us back to the driveway, where there is a dark SUV already idling and waiting for us. It's like he knew he would win that battle. I look at him with narrowed eyes but can't keep a small smile from touching my lips. He winks at me as the driver holds the door open for us.

Connor climbs in after Jenna, and the driver pulls out of the driveway and heads off.

 

~ooo000ooo~

 

Six String Winery is a beautiful place. The buildings were all designed to look like old farmhouses. There are gardens, a waterfall, several gazebos where people can picnic, and a small restaurant as well.

I know that wine tasting tours have become a big business in the region, with people traveling from all over to tour the various wineries here. And Six String looks like it's doing a very healthy business in that trade.

Some of the other local wineries are a bit hokey, and a little too touristy and commercial for my taste. Connor's winery, however, is rustic and charming. Classy. I have to say, I'm incredibly impressed.

“This is gorgeous,” Jenna says as she looks around, wide-eyed.

“We just built on the bones of the place,” he says. “There was an older winery that once stood here, but it didn't make it. I bought it and started to remodel and redesign it from the ground up. I wanted to improve it in every way. Make it into something better than before.”

“Sounds like a personal metaphor if I've ever heard one,” I say softly, so only he can hear.

He shrugs. “Perhaps,” he says. “But, I've been lucky to have had good people like Henri help along the way. Without those people, without that kind of love, I never would have made it this far. And yet, there's still so much farther I have to go.”

I look up and find his eyes locked onto mine. I swallow hard, not failing to notice his use of the word, “love,” coupled with a very penetrating, pointed gaze. A million thoughts fire through my brain in rapid succession – was it unintentional? If so, what did he mean by that? Was that for my benefit? Was he saying he loved me?

There’s no way. We barely know each other. Having sex a couple of times doesn't equate to love. It just doesn't. I'm surely misreading what he said and putting more meaning into his words than there should be. I’m probably reading too much into what he's saying. He can't possibly be saying that. I'm jumping to conclusions.

But, with the way he's looking at me – and that painting – I have to wonder.

“Anyway,” he says as the SUV drives off toward the parking lot. “Follow me inside. Please.”

He holds the door open for us as we enter the main room of the building. There are couches and tables set throughout, a small wine bar in the corner, and plenty of merchandise for sale. It smells rich and heavenly inside, the aroma of the wines blending with exotic spices and desserts. Although my stomach is still a little dicey, I can't stop myself from feeling hungry.

“And here is the mastermind behind Six String,” Connor says as he pulls a small, white-haired man into a tight embrace.

With his arm still around the man's shoulders, Connor turns him around to face us, and we all exchange courteous nods and smiles. It's hard to miss the affection Connor has for the man.

“Ladies, this is Henri,” Connor announces. “Master winemaker, genius, and a very good man. He's made this winery what it is today. Henri, this is Jenna and Zoe.”

The older, very soft-spoken man shrugs. “I play a small part.”

Henri shakes hands with the both of us. Afterward, I see him exchange a knowing glance with Connor. And much to my surprise, I see Connor Grigson actually blush. He grins like a fool and looks away. It's as unexpected as it is adorable.

“It's very nice to meet you, Ms. Nichols,” Henri says. “And you as well, Jenna.”

I cock my head and look at him. How did he know my last name? I didn't use it, and neither did Connor. Has Connor been talking about me to Henri? Confiding in him about us? The thought of it makes me immediately begin to wonder what they've discussed. And even more importantly, what Connor thinks about me.

I wish I could get Henri alone for a few minutes and cross-examine him. But, after a brief silence descends on our small group, Connor steps in and fills the void by clapping his hands and smiling.

“You two are in for a very special treat,” he says. “You get to taste one of Henri's newest wines that is not available to the public just yet. It is amazing and is going to sweep the awards next year.”

Henri shrugs and grins. “It was mostly Connor's idea,” he says, trying to deflect the attention. “I only refined the process a bit.”

“Bollocks. This is your baby, and I'm going to make sure the world knows it,” Connor says and turns to us. “Now, if you ladies will please follow us to the tasting room.”

We follow the two men, and I look around in wonder at the place. The interior of it matches the exterior – the distressed, vintage farmhouse look. We pass tasting rooms and rooms filled with giant casks. A pleasant smell of oak and wine saturates the air around us.

You'd think with how much wine I drink, that I'd have at least done one tour, but I haven’t. I'm going to have to correct that mistake though. I know Izzy would love doing something like this.

Connor herds us into a cozy, intimate tasting room. The lighting is dim, the floorboards creak beneath our feet, and beautiful photos of a much older Napa Valley adorn the walls. We all take a seat at the table where Henri pours us all a small glass of red wine from an unlabeled bottle.

“We're still working up the artwork for the labels,” Connor says. “Henri rejected putting his face on the label. I was kind of thinking of doing his profile in a relief, like on those old Roman coins.”

Henri grins and shakes his head. “I would kill you and stuff you in a vat.”

Connor looks at me and shrugs. “We're obviously at an impasse for the moment.”

He raises his glass, and the rest of us follow suit. “You two are the first to ever try this,” he says. “Aside from us, of course.”

“I can't wait,” Jenna says.

“Then, to a good life, good health, and good love,” Connor says, his eyes glued to mine once more.

I feel a shudder pass through me as we all clink glasses together. As much as I try to deny it or say that I'm simply reading too much into his words, I know I can't. Not anymore. Those words were directed right at me. They sink down into my very soul. I feel my heart swell, knowing I too, feel strong and powerful emotions for Connor, but try to push them back, absolutely terrified of it. Terrified of him.

Or more precisely, terrified for him. He shouldn't have to endure being with someone like me.

As the wine flows, the mood in the room lightens, the conversation filled with laughter. Jenna and Henri hit it off and are completely engrossed in discussing an obscure book I've never heard of. Connor's eyes find mine and he smiles. He drains the rest of his glass and sets it back down on the table. He picks up the empty bottle and looks at it.

“Well, this won't do,” he says. “Henri, when you and Jenna finish your wine, will you escort her out to the gazebo for lunch and another bottle?”

“Of course,” Henri replies before turning back to his conversation with Jenna.

“Ms. Nichols,” Connor says, his eyes boring into mine. “I'd like to give you a private tour of the facilities.”

My mind is screaming at me to decline. To avoid going anywhere with him alone. It will only lead to trouble.

But, my heart and my body betray me, and I get to my feet with a smile on my face. And when I speak, my brain is howling at the words that fall out of my mouth.

“I'd love to,” I say.

We spend about twenty minutes touring the winery. He takes me through the process of winemaking, shows me the relevant instruments and procedures. I listen to him speak, but all I can think about is being with him. How reassuring and comforting his presence is to me. He makes me laugh and smile. And when he takes my hand and looks into my eyes, my heart swells to the point of bursting.

“I've come to realize that I care about you, Zoe,” he says. “I care about you a great deal, in fact.”

“I – this is crazy, Connor,” I reply, my brain starting to assert a little more control. “We can't do this.”

“Why not?” he asks.

“Well, for one thing, my father is representing the main suing you,” I say. “It's a clear conflict of interest.”

He laughs and waves it away. “Bollocks,” he says. “That suit is nothing but a cash grab. An extortion plot. They're using a sad, pathetic little sack like Jay Hill to try and squeeze me out of some money. The case has zero merit and would never make it to court – which is why they're pushing so hard for a settlement. And I think you know that. I also know there’s no way you were a willing part of it.”

“How do you know that?”

He stops and turns to me, taking my other hand and looking at me. His eyes burn through my soul. I can feel him reaching deep within me and it makes my heart stutter. I so badly want to kiss him right now but know that I can't. That I shouldn't.

“Because you're a good person, Zoe,” he says. “You have a good heart. And you would never knowingly do something like that to an innocent person. I know that about you at the very least.”

I feel the sting of the tears welling in my eyes, and I look away. I'm ashamed to have my name attached to this farce of a lawsuit. He's right that it's nothing more than a cash grab. It's extortion. And it's wrong. So very wrong. I'm glad that Connor can see through it.

“What are you going to do about it?” I ask. “About my father and this suit.”

He shrugs. “I'm going to give them enough rope to hang themselves with,” he says. “I'll call their bluff and see how serious they are about going to court. I'll bet a million dollars that they end up kicking Jay to the curb.”

Our gazes are still locked, and the urge becomes too overpowering for me to deny. I reach up and put my hands on either side of his face, pulling him down into a kiss. At first, he's motionless – surprised. But, a beat later, he kisses me back with the same heat and passion I feel for him.

Slowly, our kiss ends, and he pulls back, looking at me with a devious little smile on his lips.

“What?” I ask.

He doesn't say a word but keeps hold of my hand as he leads me to a hallway. There is a chain with a sign announcing that the hallway is under construction and off-limits, but Connor unhooks the chain and pulls me through before putting it back in place behind us. I let him lead me down the hallway, half-afraid that the ceiling or walls are going to come collapsing down on us.

“Is it safe down here?” I ask.

He smiles. “Construction isn’t set to begin for another few weeks,” he says. “It's just a remodel. New paint, walls, flooring. Nothing to be worried about structurally.”

“What are we doing down here?”

Near the end of the hall, he opens a door and ushers me into a room that looks much like the tasting room we'd been in before. The air is redolent with the aroma of wine and oak – the only real difference between the two rooms I can see is that this room has a clean, modern paint scheme to it. It doesn't have that old farmhouse motif.

Connor closes the door behind us and grabs me roughly around the waist, pushing me up against the door. A second later, his mouth is pressed to mine, and our kiss becomes more heated and passionate than the one we shared minutes ago. Our tongues swirl and probe each other's mouth, the taste of wine still thick. Connor’s hands roam my body, cupping my breasts through my blouse.

I pull back a moment, biting my bottom lip. My body is crying out for him, but my brain is trying to pump the brakes.

“W – we probably shouldn't,” I say, my voice trembling.

Connor's gaze travels up and down my body. When his eyes finally settle on mine, I see a raw and desperate hunger – a need and desire – in them that matches my own. He looks at me like I'm the most beautiful woman he's ever seen, and it makes my heart flutter.

“You can leave if you want,” he says. “I won’t stop you.”

He steps back, but I can see a tinge of regret in his eyes as he does so. He sits down on one of the chairs in the room, watching me with desire plain on his face.

“That painting,” I say. “Is that how you really see me?”

He shakes his head. “I could never really capture how I see you, Zoe,” he says. “I can never do justice to what's in my heart. That's probably as close as I can get though.”

His words have a profound impact on me and make me smile for reasons I don't understand yet. All I know is that the man who painted the woman on that canvas saw her as a goddess – as an object to be admired. Cherished.

I reach up and unbutton my blouse, slipping it off my shoulders, and throwing it on the table next to me. Connor watches me, that primal lust in his eyes deepening. Next, I reach back and unhook my bra, letting my breasts spill out, tossing it on top of my top. Connor licks his lips and I can see the bulge growing in his jeans. Then my pencil skirt. I toss it casually onto the table with the rest of my clothes and stand there before him in nothing but panties and heels – a look he seems to really appreciate.

Standing before him practically naked should send shivers of fear through me. I'm not used to being naked in front of men. But, with Connor, I feel like I can be comfortable in my own skin. He looks at me like I'm an exquisite piece of art rather than just some chick he wants to bang. The way he drinks me in with his eyes makes me unbelievably wet.

“Come here,” he says.

I walk over to him, my heels tapping against the hardwood floor beneath my feet. I stand before him as he puts his hands on me, running his fingertips up and down my sides as he stares into my eyes. His gaze is so direct that it lays me bare, making me feel so vulnerable. So sexy.

He leans forward and starts planting soft kisses on my belly. I shudder as he runs the tip of his tongue around my stiff nipples. He sucks on them, nipping them gently as he cups my ass in his hands. I'm dripping wet, and the fires between my thighs are burning even hotter the more he touches me. I need him inside of me. As if reading my mind, Connor slides my panties down my legs, casually tossing them onto the pile of clothing on the table across the room – leaving me in nothing but my heels.

He stands and picks me up like I weigh nothing, setting me down on the table, taking his seat once again. With a roguish grin, he pushes me down onto my back and parts my thighs with his hands. I look down at him just as he buries his face into the warm, wet center of me, the tip of his tongue on my clit sending electric shockwaves through my body.

I clutch his hair as he runs his tongue along my wet, swollen lips. And when he plunges his tongue deep inside of me, I cry out, pulling on his hair. My body trembles as he fucks me with his tongue, licking and sucking on me like his life depends on it. He attacks my pussy with his mouth with such passion and zeal, my entire body is spasming. It feels like I’m being consumed by the flames of desire.

I can see the smile in his eyes as he laps at my burning hot core with wild abandon. It's like a drug he just can't get enough of. I've never had a man go down on me with the enthusiasm and relish that Connor is. With each passing moment and thrust of his tongue, he's bringing me closer and closer to the brink.

He drives a finger deep inside of me as he takes my clit into his mouth, nipping and sucking on it. My body erupts at the combined sensation and my orgasm crashes down on me, threatening to sweep me away like a rogue wave.

I cry out, nearly crushing his head with my thighs as my body shudders and trembles. I draw in a long, stuttering breath and call out his name. The waves of pleasure tearing through me are so intense, my vision becomes suddenly blurred by tears. I feel them rolling down my face.

I can't speak or move. As my body is inundated by a pleasure I’ve never known before, it’s all I can do to breathe. My breathing slowly returns to normal and my paralysis eases. I look down at Connor as he stands up, his chin and lips soaked with my juices. His eyes are riveted to mine, a burning lust filling them completely.

Wiping his chin and mouth, he leans down and rubs the tears from my cheeks, a curious expression on his face.

“You okay?” he asks.

Still not quite able to form coherent words, all I can manage is a grunt and a nod. He smiles and kisses me with a tenderness and care I hadn't expected. I'm still laying on the table, my heart still thundering inside of me, as Connor looms over me. His smile sets my soul on fire and makes my body cry out for more.

He reaches into his pocket and slips something out of his wallet. A condom.

“Always prepared, huh?” I ask.

“Like a Boy Scout.”

“We should be quick. Henri and Jenna will be wondering where we are,” I say, though I don't know if I really mean it – or care.

“Don't worry about a thing, love,” he says, his voice low and rumbling.

I start to sit up, but he pushes me back down onto the table. He unzips his pants and tears open the condom wrapper, his eyes never leaving mine as he unrolls it over his cock. He drinks me in with his eyes, looking at me like a delicious dessert he can never get his fill of, sending electric shocks of longing and desire through me.

Stepping forward, he lifts my legs up and wraps his arms around my thighs. There's a devilish smile on his face as he thrusts his hips forward, driving that thick, hard cock between the soft, velvety folds of my pussy. He fills me up and stretches me open so completely and so suddenly, I grimace and let out a small yip of pain. But, the pain is soon overwhelmed by a flood of pleasure as Connor moves inside of me, the two sensations blending into one intense feeling that makes my entire body tingle.

After letting my body acclimate to having him inside of me, Connor begins to pump his hips, driving his stiff member into me harder and faster. I press my head back into the table as a tide of pleasure surges through my body.

With Connor, all my inhibitions are gone. I feel like a completely different person – one who is able to do and say what I want without limits, without judgment. He makes me feel like a powerful sexual being. Like a living goddess. It’s opened me up to new ways of being and made me learn how to enjoy my body – and Connor’s body – in ways I never knew were possible.

“Connor, yes. Fuck me,” I say, knowing what he likes. “Fuck me harder, baby. Oh my God!”

He lets out a throaty growl, the lust in his eyes soaring to new heights. He grits his teeth, driving his cock into me harder and faster. The sound of our flesh slapping together as he fucks me echoes around the small room. His fingers press hard into the flesh of my thighs as he drives himself into me, his stiff cock setting off explosions of pleasure deep within my sensitive pussy.

“Fuck, Zoe,” he growls.

His face is a mask of ecstasy as he pounds me with his glorious cock. Sweat is dotting his brow and his jaw is clenched hard. All I want to do is make him feel as good as he makes me feels. I want to bring him every ounce of pleasure possible.

I feel his body tighten as his movements grow more frantic. I'm sure that because of how tight I am, he's having a hard time staving off the inevitable. He relentlessly thrusts inside of me, making my eyes roll back in my head, and I call out his name.

He gasps and steps back, pulling his cock out of me suddenly. With a wicked smile on my lips, I slip down from the table and start to fall to my knees. But, Connor surprises me and stops me. A roguish grin on his face, he shakes his head.

“I'm not done fucking you yet,” he says. “Just needed a second to cool down, love.”

He turns me around roughly and pushes me down over the table. I turn my face to the side, trying to watch him as he runs his hands across the flesh of my ass, letting out a yelp when he gives it a good, hard smack. The sudden jolt of pain makes me smile as a rush of pleasure follows quickly on its heels. He presses his fingers into the flesh of my ass again, admiring it.

“Fuck me, Connor,” I moan. “I need your dick inside of me.”

He slaps my ass again, harder this time. I stifle a yelp and bite my bottom lip, reveling in the flood of sensations coursing through my body. He steps forward and I feel him running the head of his cock against my lips, making my already dripping wet and burning hot pussy buzz with anticipation.

Connor slowly slips the head of his cock inside of me. I moan and try to raise myself up, only to have him force me back down to the table again. His hand is on my back, holding me in place as he thrusts his cock into me, making me cry out.

As he starts to pump his hips, slamming his thick erection into me over and over again, my body becomes drunk with pleasure.

“Fuck, Connor,” I gasp.

He slaps my ass again, the sting of it making me grit my teeth. I push myself back against him, a smile on my face as I take his cock even deeper into me. He grunts and pounds me with the same sort of zeal he'd eaten my pussy with – and it's driving me crazy.

My heart is pounding in my chest so violently, I'm sure it's going to crack the table beneath us. Connor is still holding me down as he fucks me. He slaps my ass again, making me call out his name.

“You're so goddamn tight,” he gasps. “You feel so fucking good, Zoe.”

I'm dizzy with the sensations coursing through me and I feel that pressure building up low within me again. I know I'm not going to last much longer.

“You're going to make me cum again,” I say, my voice low and breathy.

“Cum for me, Zoe,” he growls. “Cum all over my fucking cock. I want to feel it.”

As if his words were the final key, I explode. I scream his name as my body shakes and trembles, liquid fire running through my veins. I feel my pussy tighten around his cock, pulsing hard as I cum. Less than a minute later, Connor throws his head back and lets out a growl that doesn't even sound human, overwhelmed by his own orgasm.

I feel his prick throbbing inside of me as he fills the condom with his wet, sticky seed. Together, we silently ride out the waves of pleasure rolling through us, both of us reveling in the afterglow.

Slowly, our breathing returns to normal and Connor releases me from the table. He pulls me to him in a tight embrace and kisses me softly. Tenderly.

“We should probably get out there, huh?” he asks, a mischievous little twinkle in his eye.

“Probably.”

“I want to see you, Zoe,” he says, his expression earnest. “I want to be with you. I think we're good together. I think –”

I press my lips to his, cutting him off. My heart skips a beat and I feel a familiar current of fear running through me.

“I don't think I'm good for you, Connor,” I say. “I'm pretty messed up. I don't think I deserve a man like you.”

“Shouldn't that be for me to decide?” he asks. “You can't say we don't have a connection. This isn't all only about the sex. Though I have to admit, it is really damn good.”

He gives me that roguish grin again and I can't help but laugh. This is all so complicated. I know my father will never approve of it – the whole legal case aside. Bryant is who he has decided I should be with, and nothing will ever change his mind on that. If I say no to Bryant and immediately introduce Connor, I know my life will become a living hell.

I can't deny that being in his arms feels so good, so right. Though a maelstrom of emotions swirls within me, there's one thing I know more than anything else. One thing that is shining through the dark mass of uncertainty and fear that's ravaging my soul – I care about Connor Grigson. A lot. More than I probably should.

“I want to be with you too,” I reply at last.

“Then you've just made me the happiest man on Earth,” he says. “I know that things with your father are complicated. And I have a feeling that's what's been holding you back. But, believe me when I say that we'll figure it out. Together.”

I look into his eyes and smile, an almost overwhelming wave of emotion threatening to pull me under once more.

“Together,” I say. “I like that.”