Page 100 of My Favorite Mistake

The subtle plea in his voice melted her heart and warmed her from the inside out; honest and raw, layered with a fragile strength she recognized as uniquely Connor. He was the perfect dichotomy, and her chest ached. That beautiful, excruciating Connor-shaped hole in her heart that had been there—it hadalwaysbeen there—demanded to be filled, and she physically craved to gather all of his broken pieces together again and fit them back inside that place that had only ever belonged to him.

Lips still connected to his, Liza walked him backward through the bedroom door toward his bed, stopping just next to it, and she drew her hands down his solid chest to find the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head. Like a magnet, her palms returned to his bare skin.

There was something about his skin; something about his scent. They felt more like home to her than any place she’d ever been.

Maybe it wasn’t a perfecthouseLiza had been looking for all these years.

Maybe it was a perfectpartner. A partner perfect for her.And she’d already found him years ago.

Thumbs resting in the hard crevices that flanked his narrow torso, she pushed Connor to lie down on the bed again—not in defeat as he did mere moments ago, rather so she could show him exactly how much she cherished him, how much she’d missed him, and how much she wanted him,onlyhim, without regard for a history of things he saw as failures.

She straddled his hips, heat surging through the minimal layers of fabric that separated them, slipped off her shirt, and, not wasting any time, she removed her bra. His fingers dug into her hips, tugging her down against him as he gave a quick hip thrust, as if he couldn’t be bothered to wait for their clothes to come off.

“I need you, Liza,” came the rough timbre of his voice.

Truer words were never spoken.

Hedidneed her. She’d needed him, too. Through so many things over the course of so many years, they’d needed each other. She was determined to make him understand that she’d be there; behere, with his body and his heart no matter what happened going forward.

Liza clasped her hands on his cheeks and leaned down, pressing their bare chests against each other and kissing him, deep and slow. His hands slid over her skin, fingers tracing their way up the path of her spine. One of his arms wrapped around the small of her back, and his opposite hand wedged between their connected bodies to fill his palm with her breast. His thumb circled her nipple, and her tongue hungrily sought his.

The heat between their hips increased to radiative levels, and his rigid length strained for her inside his jeans, the feel of it intoxicating. She broke the kiss, threaded her fingers through his hair, and pressed her forehead against his, unable to hold back the words, “MyGod, I love you so much.”

Connor kissed her eyelid and then the apple of her cheek. “I love you, too.” He squeezed her breasts with both hands and thrust his hips against her. “Fuck, I need you.”

Liza could take a hint. And she’d give him that. But recalling the last time they were tangled up together, she knew she owed him one.

She drowned her tongue in his mouth one more time before pulling back, nipping his bottom lip and then his earlobe, then kissed her way down the thick column of his neck. His hands drifted to the back of her head as she kissed a line between the crests of his chest muscles and taking a quick detour to one of his nipples. She flicked her tongue against it, and a groan rumbled deep within him. He gripped her loose ponytail and grasped the elastic, attempting to pull it free, and she lifted her head.

“Not yet. I’m going to need that.” She coyly winked at him, and Connor tilted his head back against the pillow as another groan exited his mouth.

“That ponytail gets me every time.” He grinned devilishly as he gave it another tug. “Let me take it down so you can put it up again.”

Liza giggled like the twenty-one-year-old version of herself. It had been a secret joke between them. Long ago, she would pause to tie her hair back into a ponytail, and he knew what was coming. It wasn’t long before the mere act of her putting her hair up gave him an impressive erection.Like Pavlov’s dogs, they used to say, laughing childishly before she’d love him with her mouth.

In this moment, the erection was already there, silently begging for her, but she indulged him in the sentimental action anyway.

“Go ahead,” she said. “Grab it.”

A sweet, yet sly smile stretched Connor’s lips, and he gave the elastic a slow, deliberate tug, causing her long hair to cascade down one of her shoulders. He gathered it into one hand and dragged her to his mouth again, fingers tangling in the strands.

He turned his head to bury his face deep into hair. “Mmmm…your hair smells so good I could get drunk on it.”

Bracing her palms on either side of his head, Liza hovered above him, dangling the strands over his face, and he clawed at it like cat who’d found an enticing piece of string.

Connor paused to hold up the elastic. “So do you want this, or should I slingshot it across the room?”

“The question is not whether I want it.” She inched forward and dangled her small breasts over his face, and he forgot the ponytail completely, dropping the elastic and grasping both breasts, sucking one hard peak into his mouth. A sinful ache murmured between her thighs, and she’d never craved the sensation of being filled so much in her life. “How much do you want the ponytail, Connor?”

He moaned, sending scintillating vibrations over her breast and through her body, and sucked harder. His fingers skated over her ass, down between her thighs, and finally locating the hot, damp center, still blocked by way too many layers of clothing. He pressed two fingers against her, expertly locating her pleasure center despite the barrier of cotton and lace, and she nearly came apart right then and there.

She owed him one, and he was distracting her, so she jerked backward, separating them and climbing off the bed to stand up. “Take off your clothes,” she ordered, unbuttoning her airy shorts, slipping them off and taking her panties with them.

Connor briefly froze, captivated by the sight of her standing naked before him.

Liza cocked her head and clicked her tongue impatiently. “You’re dawdling. I don’t think you want the ponytail badly enough.”

He tore off his jeans and boxer briefs, his substantial erection springing free and thrusting up against his ribbed abdomen. He held up the elastic. “I need the ponytail.”

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