Page 30 of Love Songs

I looked at Conor questioningly.

“For your throat,” he explained as he shifted in his seat. “Sam said the hard candies are good for soothing a sore throat, like a lozenge, and you can dissolve the lollipops into your tea if you want. They’re kind of like antioxidants.”

For the first time in my life, I was speechless. Make that the second time. The first time was when I’d found out about Jaylin. I couldn’t believe that Conor had gone out of his way to get these for me, to help me feel better. Most people in my life wanted something from me, wanted what I could do for them, what my celebrity status would bring them. Very few genuinely did somethingforme. Especially without ulterior motives. In that moment, I knew that not only was I going to call the house on Harmony Lake home, but that I wanted to have this man in my life, too.

“Is that okay?” Conor asked with a note of apprehension in his deep voice, and I realized I’d been staring at him in silence, with my jaw hanging open too long.

I snapped my mouth shut and smiled, reaching my hand across the table to clasp his in mine.

“More than okay,” I said, and my voice cracked. Not because of possibly permanent vocal cord damage this time, but because a swell of emotion tightened my throat. “I can’t believe you thought of this, that you went out of your way to do this for me.”

He shrugged. “It’s possible I had an ulterior motive.”

I froze for a second, but the sly grin on his face relaxed me. He wasn’t looking at me with calculation in his eyes, but instead, with a lustful longing that sang in harmony with my own growing desire for him.

“Yeah?” I leaned forward, enticed. “And what is that?”

“An excuse to see you again.” His words were quiet, but loaded with innuendo.

“Consider this a no excuses needed relationship,” I teased, lowering my faltering voice to match his.

His eyes widened, but there was humor in his voice when he asked, “This is a relationship already?”

I laughed. Nervous and excited all at once. “I think you know what I mean.”

He hummed and looked down at our still joined hands. He lifted his gaze, and the naked hunger is his intense stare pierced right into my soul.

“So,” I dragged out the word even as I yearned to drag him upstairs as fast as possible. “Do you need to get home, or do you want to stay?”

“I want to stay,” he replied. No hesitation. His voice was low and gravelly, sending a frisson of adrenaline racing through my bloodstream.

We rose together, our drinks forgotten but not the bag of maple candies, and he followed me to my suite. Neither of us spoke while my nerves vibrated like plucked guitar strings, and the moment I stepped inside my room and closed the door, Conor was on me.

He pushed me up against the wall, and the breath whooshed from my lungs. My bag of maple candies hit the floor. He claimed my mouth with a possessiveness that would have left me speechless even if I’d been able to speak in that moment. His kiss was frantic and desperate and all-consuming, and all I could do, all I wanted to do, was surrender to his onslaught.

And I loved it.

Loved that he wanted me that much.

Loved that I wanted him that much.

I scrabbled with the soft cotton of his shirt, yanking it up his torso. I couldn’t wait another second to feel his skin. To have nothing between us. He growled when I forced him to break the kiss, but lifted his arms so I could pull his T-shirt up over his head. I tossed it somewhere over my shoulder. The faint scent of smoke danced across my senses before I dove back into claim his lips. This time I made the wordless demands. He opened his mouth, and I slid my tongue inside to stroke his. I savored the faint taste of orange juice and grenadine from the tequila sunrise he’d drunk in the lounge, and the indefinable essence that was Conor Holliston. My synapses sparked in every direction, threatening to short-circuit my brain.

I gripped Conor’s sides like he was a life preserver, needing to hold on for dear life under his erotic assault. His ribcage expanded and contracted in concert with his steady but rapid breathing. Even though his skin was hot to the touch, goosebumps rose across my forearms. I moved my hands around to his back, tracing the muscular contours that bracketed his spine.

Without breaking our explosive kiss, he bowed his body away from me, making room for his fingers to fight with the button-fly of my jeans.

Conor broke the kiss, drawing a ragged groan of complaint from me.

“Off, off, off,” he panted with an urgency I felt all the way to the tips of my toes. “Get it all off.”

I chuckled at the mixture of plea and demand in his voice and knocked his hands out of the way so I could finish undoing my pants. I dropped my jeans and briefs in one fell swoop, but the fabric got caught up with my boots—biker boots with far too many laces. I stood there staring uncomprehendingly at my feet, while my junk hung free in the wind and the bottom of my shirt tented from my growing erection.

“Shit,” I breathed as I tried to put enough brain cells together to figure out how to get out of my boots without falling. “Stuck.”

Conor’s gaze bounced from my face to my barely covered hard-on, down to my feet and back up. He raised an eyebrow, and warning bells went off in my head at the slow, mischievousgrin that spread across his face. I braced myself for what I didn’t know.

It didn’t take long to find out.

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