Page 104 of Shameless Royalty

I turn in his arms and try to snuggle into his embrace, but then I wince as my ribs protest the movement. Connor immediately stills, his fingers pressing just a little firmer against my side.

“Fuck,” he mutters, pulling back just enough to look at me. “Still bad?”

I huff out a humorless laugh. “What do you think?”

His jaw clenches, but he doesn’t say anything at first. He just watches me, his thumb moving in slow, soothing circles against my skin. Then, finally, he sighs and mutters, “It wasn’t my Da.”

I blink, and my breath catches. “What?”

Connor props himself up on one elbow, his other hand still resting on my waist. “I spoke to him,” he says, voice tight. “He didn’t order it, but he found out who it was.”

The look on his face makes my stomach drop and I watch as his jaw tics, his green eyes burning. “I handled it, don’t worry.”

I swallow hard, my chest tightening as I hold his gaze.I handled it.I don’t even want to know what that means. He looks furious, his body practically vibrating with restrained rage, and for a second, I wonder just how much blood he’s willing to spill because of me.

Too much.

I shake my head, looking away, my fingers curling against the sheets. “Connor, I—”

“Don’t.” He cuts me off and cups my jaw, forcing me to look at him.

I let out a shaky breath. “You can’t go starting wars over me.”

“The fuck I can’t.” He scoffs as if it’s the most obvious thing he’s going to do.

I glare at him, even as my heart pounds at how fucking serious he is. “That’s not how this works.”

Connor’s smirk is humorless, his fingers tracing the outline of my jaw, his voice dipping lower. “Babyface, I don’t give a single fuck how this is supposed to work.”

I grit my teeth, but before I can argue, his lips are on mine—firm, possessive, cutting off whatever stupid fucking thing I was about to say.

And just like that, I lose.

I always fucking lose with him.

Because this isn’t fair. I shouldn’t feel safe in his arms, but I do. I shouldn’t be in love with him, but I am. I shouldn’t want him to fight for me, but fuck—I do.

I don’t get the chance to push him away again—not that I really fucking want to—because his kiss is making me lose my fucking mind. It’s deep and slow, his lips warm, his hand still firm on my jaw, keeping me exactly where he wants me.

My heart stutters, my body betraying me like it always does when it comes to him. His thumb brushes against my cheek, tilting my head slightly so he can deepen the kiss more, and I let him.

His other hand slips under the blankets, over my waist, tracing the bruises on my ribs like he’s grounding himself in the fact that I’m still here. Still breathing. I shift slightly, wincing when the movement pulls at my injuries, and immediately, he pulls back just enough to press his forehead against mine, his breath warm against my lips.

“Careful,” he murmurs, his thumb stroking over my hip.

I roll my eyes, even as my pulse races. “Maybe you should be careful.”

His smirk is pure fucking sin, but there’s something softer in his gaze, something dangerous in a different way. “Never.”

Then he kisses me again, stealing the breath from my lungs. I sigh against his lips, letting him pull me into his gravity, into his warmth, into the sheer fucking need of it all. My fingers slide up his bare chest, tracing over inked muscle, feeling the way he shivers beneath my touch.

He likes this. He wantsme.

It’s not just about the chase, the fight, the push and pull. It’s not just about breaking me down until I finally fucking give in.

He wants me.It should have been obvious since I’m wearing his ring, but it still hasn’t sunk in.

His hips roll forward, slow, teasing, with just enough friction to make me bite back a moan. “Fuck,” he mutters, his mouth trailing down my jaw, his teeth grazing my pulse. “You feel so fuckin’ good, Babyface.”

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