Total pages in book: 39
Estimated words: 36177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 181(@200wpm)___ 145(@250wpm)___ 121(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 181(@200wpm)___ 145(@250wpm)___ 121(@300wpm)
Perhaps it was the fact that he was inebriated and likely wouldn’t remember any of this conversation in the morning that had me blurting, “Please don’t break my heart.”
I had been sad after many of my past breakups, but I didn’t think I’d ever been truly heartbroken, not like I knew I’d be with Conor. God, what was wrong with me? I barely even had him and already I was fretting about losing him. I’d never felt like this before, like I was full of both panic and excitement at the same time.
His hand came to my chin, gripping gently and forcing my gaze to his. “Only if you promise never to break mine,” he said, reminding me of his statement back in the pharmacy about being head over heels for me since he was a teenager. That couldn’t be true, right? He was just young at the time and mistaking lust for love.
“I’m not sure these are promises we can make,” I told him sadly.
“Then we’ll just have to trust one another,” he whispered, leaning closer and pressing his lips to mine. It was a tender kiss, full of feeling, and my heart exploded. Conor slid his fingers through mine, quietly holding my hand for the rest of the journey. The good thing about it being almost three in the morning was the lack of traffic. We reached my apartment in Brooklyn in record time. I rifled through my bag for some cash but Conor had sobered up enough to use his card.
“My woman doesn’t pay for cab rides,” he said, a sliver of intoxication still in his voice. Something low in my belly clenched at him calling me ‘his woman.’
I wasn’t opposed to it. Not at all.
I helped him out and we climbed the steps to my apartment. Once inside I turned on the lights then slipped off my shoes, luxuriating in the soft feel of my living room rug under my feet before I went into the kitchen to grab us some glasses of water.
Conor was sitting on the couch when I returned. His coat was off and his shirt partway unbuttoned. I smiled, trying not to let my gaze linger on his exposed, muscular chest, and handed him the water. “Here, drink this. I’ll get you a blanket and some pillows.”
I grabbed the spare bedding from the linen closet and went back into the living room. Conor had polished off the glass of water and now lay flat on the couch, one shoe off, his shirt still halfway unbuttoned and the fly of his trousers open.
“What happened?” I asked, smiling. “Did you lose interest partway through undressing?”
“Just taking a break for a minute,” he replied, a wide, goofy grin spreading across his lips as I knelt and removed his other shoe. I avoided his fly and instead unbuttoned the rest of his shirt before helping him out of it. “Oh yeah, that’s right, strip me naked while I’m vulnerable,” he said and I chuckled.
“Uh huh, that’s been my evil plan all along.”
“I knew it!” he declared and then made a sad face. “Yvonne, I don’t want to sleep on the couch. I want to sleep in your bed with your lovely bosoms for a pillow.”
“Hold on until I get my phone out,” I teased. “I need to record what you’re saying because you aren’t going believe me when I tell you in the morning.”
“I’ll believe you, woman of my dreams. Now take me to bed or lose me forever.”
I grinned and laughed. “Note to self, Conor likes to quote Top Gun as a means of seduction.”
“Wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?!” He shook his fist in the air and I threw the blanket over him before grabbing the pillow.
“Yes, Romeo, I will, especially when you’re drunk and can’t properly consent. Now lift your head.” He did and I slotted the pillow under him.
“But I do consent. I’ll consent to whatever filthy things you wish to do to me, no matter how sordid.”
“Okay, well, the only thing I want to do right now is catch some sleep. You should sleep, too. You’re going to have a terrible hangover in the morning.”
“But you’ll nurse me back to health so it will be worth it.”
“Goodnight, Conor,” I said, turning off the lights before heading to my room.
I’d barely made it there and smiled to myself because I could already hear him snoring.
***
A thin stream of light filtered into my room and I squinted my eyes at the alarm clock. It was almost midday, but I was off work for another two days so I could afford to sleep in. My head hurt from all the champagne last night, even if I had stopped drinking earlier than everyone else. I shuddered to think how Conor was suffering right now.
Conor.
My sleep addled brain recalled that he was outside on my couch.