Page 2 of Connor

He shook his head, stepping back, his expression unreadable. “You’re leaving town in a few hours, Summer.” His voice curled like smoke, like the words tasted bad. “Why the fuck are you here when you should be packing?”

It sliced through me. He was right. I should be.

“Are you really so eager to see me go?” I shot back, my voice sharp enough to mask the ache beneath it.

His lips sneered, but there was no humor in it. “We weren’t ever anything serious, Summer. I’m done keeping secrets from Vic. It should never have gone on for as long as it did.” His voice was cold now. “You should go.”

Hearing my brother’s name—our secret laid out like a threat—made my stomach lurch. Vic would kill me if he knew. But still, I didn’t leave—somehow, the thought of doing that hurt me worse.

“Summer,” Connor warned, his voice rough.

I took a breath, ready to say something—anything—but I faltered.

Seeing my indecision did something to him. Connor ran his fingers over his lips and swore under his breath. “Fuck it.”

In a swift motion, he grabbed my wrist and yanked me inside. The door slammed shut. My back hit it hard. And before I could breathe, before I could think—

His mouth was on mine, rough and desperate, and my body answered before my mind could. His hands grabbed my waist, fingers digging in like he was afraid I’d disappear.

I tangled my hands in his hair and pulled him closer, needing more—but he tore away, breath ragged, forehead pressing against mine. His fingers circled my wrist, his thumb brushing over my pulse—measuring just how much he still owned me.

His next kiss was harder.

Frustrated. Desperate. A clash of teeth and tongues and too many unsaid words. His hands were everywhere.

I met him with equal force, nails digging into his shoulders, matching his frustration with my own. My whimpers were swallowed instantly as he sucked on my tongue, his hands sliding beneath my shirt, scorching against my bare skin. And when he lifted me, pressed me against the door, stripped me down to my underwear—I let him. Because this was goodbye. Because no one else would ever make me feel this way.

His body was all heat and hard muscle, his mouth tracing over my jaw, my throat, the hollow between my collarbones. Licking. Sucking. Biting.

I gasped when he picked me up properly, hands around my thighs until I wrapped them around his waist tightly. The same way I wrapped my arms around his neck, clinging to him as he carried me through the living room and down the hall.

Connor’s breath hissed into my mouth when I bit his bottom lip, sucking on it and only letting go to groan when my back thumped against a wall. He used the momentum to rock into me, cock hard and teasing.

It distracted me so much, I barely registered the moment he pulled me away and walked through the door of his bedroom. Not until my back hit the mattress. All I could focus on was him—the press of his lips, the teasing hum that rumbled from his chest as his fingers pressed against my soaked panties.

The fabric tore, my panties were discarded. Two fingers slipped inside me—shallow, teasing, not nearly enough. My breath hitched, and his smirk deepened.

“Connor—”

“Headboard,” he ordered.

My stomach flipped. My thighs clenched. I twisted onto my belly then reached up, curling my fingers around the wood.

Connor growled his approval, his hands already reaching out to strip me bare—slow, deliberate. My clothes landed somewhere on his bedroom floor. His hands reached to touchme, palming my breasts and stroked my body before pulling away again.

I heard a zipper, and couldn’t resist peeking at him over my shoulder. My mouth went dry at the sight of his jeans crumpling to the floor and his cock in his hands. Connor was big—thick, hard, veined—and he knew it. He grabbed his cock as he climbed onto the bed, pulling back my hips to drag the tip along my slick folds. “Ready for me, Summer?”

I nodded, tilting my ass higher.

“Good,” he murmured. “Because I’m not stopping.”

Then he slammed into me, and I lost myself.

“You’ll feel my cock for weeks,” he snarled, his thrusts brutal. “No one else will make you feel like this. No one.”

I whined. Each snap of his hips drove me deeper into the mattress, forcing strangled moans from my lips. His fingers digging into my flesh as he stretched me, filled me, claimed me.

He knew my body too well. Knew how I trembled, how I clenched around him, overwhelmed but unwilling to stop.

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