Page 73 of Forty, Flirty & F*cked

And mine.

I’m still staring at her when she slowly stirs awake, her doe-like brown eyes rising to meet mine where we lay.

“Connor…” she murmurs.

“Good morning,” I tease. “Or, rather, good night.”

“How long have you been awake?”

“A while.”

“You seem worried.”

I shake my head. “Not worried. Thinking.”

“And what are you thinking?" Her hand strays to the growing erection between my legs. “Other than the obvious.”

"That I'm in trouble."

She props herself up on an elbow. "Because of the IPO?"

"Because of you." I brush hair from her face, rolling her beneath me. “And speaking of being in trouble…” I capture her hands, pinning them above her head. “Trouble implies uncertainty."

"And you're very certain?"

"About you?" I kiss her neck. "Absolutely."

She arches against me. "Prove it."

So I do.

Much, much later, I watch her sleep, moonlight painting silver across her skin. She's curled into me like she belongs there, like this is exactly where she's meant to be, and something in my chest aches with the rightness of it.

I've spent every day for the last twenty-something years avoiding this. Closeness. Betrayal. Having someone turn their back. Or—in James’ case—completely losing them.

But maybe...

Maybe it's time to let someone in.

My phone buzzes on the nightstand:

DAD VADER: Board meeting emergency. 7 AM.

DAD VADER: Don't be late.

DAD VADER: And don't bring distractions.

I look at Ariana, peaceful in sleep, and make a decision.

For the first time in my life, I ignore my father's message.

Instead, I pull Ariana closer, breathing in the vanilla scent of her hair, and let myself imagine a future where boundaries isn't everything.

Where she is.

18

THE MORNING AFTER TRUTH

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