Maybe that’s why he wanted to move in here so badly.So he can avoid me more easily.
The thought stings, even though I was the one who told him to figure his shit out and leave me alone if all he wants is to fuck me and ignore me. He’d come home after that argument with a split lip and bruised jaw, and when I’d asked about it, all he’d said was that he and Jacob went a little too hard in the ring.Out of practice,he’d said, which I didn’t believe.
I find it even more suspicious that I haven’t heard from Niall since then. I can’t stop wondering if he went after Niall, if the two of them got in a fight. But then again, Niall and I didn’t exactly leave each other on the best terms, either.
Wishing I could just stop thinking about all of it, I head down to the kitchen for breakfast. There’s a freshly-baked basket of muffins on the counter, and I snag a lemon one before wandering through the house, nibbling on it as I look through the various rooms. There’s the informal dining room just off the kitchen, a bigger formal dining room, and a larger room still that functioned as a ballroom a century ago and is now just used for the largest of parties. There’s an informal and formal living room as well, a parlor, a downstairs library, as well as an office suite, and guest bedrooms. I already know there’s another library on the second floor where our master suite is, more guest rooms and another office. Then the third floor, where Anastasia and Liam have moved, is full of guest rooms and another sitting room.
I can’t imagine how much we must pay staff to clean all of this.
When I’ve finished my muffin and wandered through the rooms—absolutelynotlooking for Connor, I tell myself—I end up back in our bedroom. With nothing else to do and the whole day at my disposal, I throw on a bikini—a tiny, bright electric blue one that I know is flattering on me, and head down to the pool.
There are well-kept gardens in the back of the house, along with a hedge maze and a greenhouse, and to the left of it is an Olympic-sized pool with cushioned lounge chairs scattered around it, a cabana with a fireplace and more seating, and a hot tub with additional seating and a second fireplace, as well as a completely stocked bar. It’s quiet and peaceful out there, and I consider texting Maggie to ask if she wants to come over before thinking better of it. I need some time to myself to try to straighten out my thoughts and emotions and come to terms with all of this. With what my future will look like going forward.
I make myself a paloma and stretch out on one of the lounge chairs, liberally applying sunscreen before closing my eyes and enjoying the warmth of the sunlight on my skin. It feels good to relax a little for the first time in days, and I think I actually doze off a bit, warm and comfortable and alone.
When I open my eyes, it’s still only me out here. I refresh my drink, slipping into the pool and letting out a sigh at the feeling of the refreshing, cool water spilling over my skin.Things could be okay,I tell myself.It could be so much worse. This place will feel more like home in time. It’s an adjustment, like anything else. The hurt over Connor will fade in time. The same for Niall. You’ll meet someone else, and it will salve the wounds. You’ll move on. Eventually, there will be a baby. It’ll be okay.
I tell myself that, over and over, as I finish my second drink and get out of the pool, making myself a third and stretching back out on the lounge chair. I’m just about to reach for the book I’d brought out with me when the gate to the pool deck opens, and my heart nearly stops as I see Connor walk in.
He’s only wearing a pair of black swim trunks, his muscled chest and arms impressively bare, the auburn strip of hair running from his navel drawing my eye distractedly to the deep v-cut of muscle on either side of his hips.I’ve run my tongue along those,I think to myself, remembering the hot brush of his cock against my cheek, the salty and clean taste of him when I took him into my mouth. It makes me ache for him, and I hate it.
He smirks as he sees me, his auburn hair messy as if he’s run his fingers through it, his piercing blue eyes skating over my body possessively, with a look that saysyou’re mine. I can have you whenever I please, and you know it.
I do know it, and what’s worse is that my body thrills with that knowledge every time. I can see the thick ridge of his cock pressing against his trunks, already half-aroused. I know then with a traitorous flutter in my belly that he’s come out here for a reason that has nothing to do with getting in the pool.
I’m suddenly very aware of how little my bikini covers, the bottoms nothing but a scrap of scrunched fabric between my thighs and two thin ties at my hips, the top flimsy triangles of material covering my nipples, the rest of me laid out pale and slender and all too eager for him already. I can feel myself getting wet at the idea that he stalked out here solely to fuck me, that on the walk from the house to here, he was thinking about how it would feel to slide his cock into me, getting hard knowing that he would have me one way or another and that I wouldn’t say no.
I’ve learned that my husband won’t force me. But he enjoys arousing me despite myself. And I like it too—far too much.
“I saw your ovulation test,” Connor says, his voice deep and rough. “We need to fuck.”
Why. Why do those four words, uttered so flatly, make me so fucking wet?The arrogant assumption, the demand, makes me ache. I squeeze my thighs together, determined not to let him see how turned on I already am, both cursing myself for forgetting to throw away the test and wondering if, subconsciously, I ‘forgot’ on purpose, so Connor would track me down and give me what my body so desperately craves.
I roll my eyes at him. “If you’re so sure you knocked me up on our ‘honeymoon,’ why are you still trying so hard?”
“I’m not leaving it to chance.” Connor eyes me, and I can see him getting more aroused as he speaks. “I want every single second possible, while you’re ripe for getting pregnant, to be spent full of my cock.”
A jolt of pure lust shoots through me at that, but I manage to not let it show on my face. “Well, come take it then, if you’re so determined,” I say carelessly, rolling over onto my stomach and pillowing my cheek on my arm. “Do whatever you want. I won’t stop you.”I won’t enjoy it either,is the unspoken subtext, but we both know that’s a lie. It’s just whether or not he’ll call me on it.
I expect a smirk from him, some sarcastic retort. Something to accuse me of whatever he’s decided I’ve done wrong or done to purposefully irritate him. But instead, he just narrows his eyes, stalking towards me like a graceful, predatory cat.
“So nonchalant,” he growls, coming to sit on the lounge chair next to me. “As if you really don’t care what I do. As if you’re not aching for my cock. We’ve barely fucked this last week; you must already be dripping.”
I ignore him, refusing to say a word. I just shrug, closing my eyes, and I canfeelhim tense with irritation.
“Well, there’s one easy way to find out, isn’t there?” Connor’s hand skims up the back of my thigh, and I force myself not to shiver at his touch. “You can’t hide it from me, Saoirse.”
He strokes my ass, his palm skimming over the round flesh. He squeezes, thumb pressing into the crease, and then pulls back his hand, cracking it against my flesh in one quick, hard spank. Not hard enough to cause pain, but enough to pull a reaction from me.
“Ah, there we go,” he growls, and then his fingers curl around the edge of my bikini, yanking the damp fabric away from my pussy. “Now, let’s see if my princess is lying to me today.”
I know what he’s going to find—I can’t hide it. Iamaching for him, missing the rough touch of his fingers and the blissful sensation of him filling me. When his fingertips slide over my slit, I know he can feel how wet I already am.
“Youarelying.” There’s a thick satisfaction in Connor’s tone, his fingers pushing between my folds, and my nails bite into my palms as I do everything within my power not to push back onto his hand. I want to be filled, Ineedit so badly, and it’s almost impossible not to beg.
“Lying little princesses need to be punished,” Connor purrs. I can tell he’s enjoying this, his fingers teasing the edges of my folds, my entrance, without giving me any of the friction or pressure I so desperately need.
“You bastard,” I grit out through my teeth. “You’re enjoying this. I warned you—”