Page 47 of Connor

I hesitated. Only for a second. Then—I made my decision.

Summer:Do you wanna come over?

I saw the three dots pop up instantly.

Nate:Now?

Summer:Yeah. Now.

Nate:On my way.

I swallowed hard as I stared at the words. He’d be here in fifteen minutes. Maybe less.

I wasn’t nervous. I wasn’t second-guessing. I was done second-guessing.

If Connor could run to some random woman and forget me between her thighs, then I could do the same. I could burn away the memory of him, wipe him from my body, replace the way he touched me, the way he felt inside me, the way he ruined me over and over again. I could do this. I needed to.

I moved on autopilot, walking to my bedroom, stripping off the hoodie and tossing it onto the floor like it was poison. I pulled my hair down, ran my fingers through it, forced myself to look in the mirror.

My reflection stared back.

Eyes rimmed with red. Cheeks flushed from the argument. I looked… different. Not like myself. Good. I didn’t want to look like myself tonight.

A knock on the door jolted me out of my thoughts. I turned, my pulse kicking up. Not from excitement. Not from want. Just—adrenaline.

I walked to the door and pulled it open.

Nate stood there, leaning against the frame, grinning. His blue eyes flicked over me, darkening slightly as he took me in. “Damn, Summer,” he murmured, stepping inside. “This is a nice surprise.”

I shut the door behind him. “Glad you think so.” I didn’t give him time to talk. Didn’t give myself time to hesitate. I grabbed his shirtand pulled him into me.

He barely had time to react before my mouth was on his, desperate, messy, demanding.

Nate made a pleased sound, his hands sliding to my waist, his body pressing into mine as he kissed me back. It wasn’t bad. He was a good kisser, I guessed. Confident, knowing exactly what he wanted. His lips were soft. His hands were steady.

But it wasn’t Connor.

I told myself that was a good thing.

I tilted my head, deepening the kiss, parting my lips to let him in. His tongue flicked against mine, slow, teasing. His fingers brushed my bare skin, skating beneath my shirt, making me shiver—but not in the way I wanted. Not in the way that made my breath stutter, my body melt.

Not in the way that felt like fire. I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop. I pulled at his belt, tugging him toward my bedroom, not letting myself think as he followed, his hands already moving lower.

We fell onto the bed in a mess of tangled limbs and heated desperation. His hands were on me, sliding under my shirt, tightening my hips, pressing his weight into me. His mouth traced my jaw, then my neck, then lower.

I let him.

I let him pull my shirt over my head, let him strip me bare, let him kiss a path down my stomach while his fingers dipped lower, slipping between my thighs, seeking, teasing.

I arched into his touch. Not because I wanted to—but because I was supposed to. I forced myself to moan when he slipped a finger inside me. I forced myself to react when he kissed me again, when he pushed inside me, when he let out a sharp breath against my lips like this was exactly what he’d been wanting.

Nate pulled out his cock and slipped a condom on, then spread my legs wider and slipped inside me. He felt nothing like Connor. His dick wasn’t curved the way I liked it, nor was it as thick. But more than that, he didn’t make me cum before driving into me.

My body moved like it was supposed to, but my mind—my mind was somewhere else.

Somewhere in the past.

Somewhere in the middle of hot, tangled sheets and rough hands and Connor’s breath against my ear, growling my fucking name like it was the only thing that mattered.

---