“That doesn’t mean I want you to die trapped in a fire!” I exclaim, staring up at him. “For fuck’s sake, Connor, what do you actually think of me? You think I went to all that effort to help my father bring you back here, married you, am doing my level best to get pregnant—and I’d somehow be happier if you’re dead?” I stare up at him, flabbergasted.How are we having such a hard time understanding each other?
He shrugs, his expression cool. “Why not? You wouldn’t be able to preside over all the other mob wives any longer, but something tells me you don’t enjoy that all that much, anyway. You’d inherit all my money as my widow. You’d be richer than you were before and free. You could marry Niall—”
“Please.” I press a hand to my forehead, shaking my head as I close my eyes. “Don’t bring Niall into this. It has nothing to do with him.”
“Doesn’t it?” Connor’s gaze darkens the slightest bit. “Did he let you know what was happening?”
I don’t have to lie. I’ve gotten remarkably bad at hiding my thoughts and feelings from Connor, and he reads it on my face immediately.
“That’s what I thought,” he snorts irritably. “But you waited for me outside the warehouse, like a dutiful little wife. How difficult that must have been for you.”
No, what was difficult was not being able to run to you because you’d be an ass about it. Just like you’re being now.
“Connor—” I lick my lips, very cognizant of the fact that we’re both naked, the hot water beating down on us from either side beneath the dual showerheads, steam wreathing us. “Can you drop the jealousy? Just for a minute? And don’t say you’re not jealous because I don’t feel like being lied to right now. Could you just—let me be glad you’re alive? Because I am.”
I let out a breath, facing my husband, watching the water drip down his chest, catching in the deep ridges of his abs. I reach out gingerly, touching him there, and he sucks in a breath.
“Everything hurts,” he admits. “It’ll be worse tomorrow.”
“Something doesn’t,” I say with a smirk, glancing downwards.
Despite Connor’s bruises and exhaustion, there’s at least one part of him that doesn’t seem to feel it. I see his cock stiffening, rising so that it’s jutting out in front of him, and then get harder still as his eyes flick to my damp breasts, and I feel an exhilarating flush of power.
Even hurt, even irritated, even stubbornly infuriating, Connor wants me. Thanks to his anatomy, he can’t hide it. He’s rock-hard in seconds, so stiff that his cockhead is nearly touching the firm, taut flesh of his abdomen, brushing just below his navel as the tip pearls with pre-cum. My mouth waters, wanting to taste him, to take all that hard thickness into my mouth and lavish him with pleasure, give him something to distract from his discomfort.
But that would mean breaking the stalemate between us, showing my hand as the one who wants him more than he wants me yet again.
“Let me help you clean up,” I say softly. “I’m your wife, Connor. However difficult things are between us, I should be the one to help you feel better.”
A muscle twitches in his jaw. “Are you still on your period?” he asks, one eyebrow raising as his fingers stroke down the underside of his cock, the shaft twitching at his touch.
Need knots tightly, deep in my belly. “No,” I whisper.
“Then I know what would make me feel better.” His voice is raspy with more than just the smoke inhalation now. His hand closes around his cock, stroking it slowly. For a moment, I think he’s going to say that he needs me, needs the pleasure of my body to distract him from the pain, and I would happily let him use me for that. I would love nothing more right now than to be distracted from the churning, confusing emotions I’m feeling with the simple pleasure of fucking.
Except where Connor and I are concerned, fucking is never simple.
“The sooner you’re pregnant with my heir, Saoirse, the better everyone will feel,” he adds, and my heart sinks. His voice is cool and practical, at odds with the erotic sight of him muscled and naked, stroking his cock under the hot spray of the shower. “Turn around.”
I hesitate. The thought of doing it here in the shower thrills me a little—it’s something new, and the water reminds me of the incident in the pool. I’ve thought of that afternoon more than I’d like to admit, considering how humiliating it was—but it had also felt so good. Over and over again.
“If you don’t want to fuck in here,” Connor growls, “then get out so I can finish showering. You’ll have to be on top, though. I don’t think I can manage anything else right now. At least in here, the heat helps.”
His words are clinical, cold. The way they make me feel is anything but. I can already feel the ache between my thighs, my pussy getting wet. Iwanthim inside of me. I want the visceral, pleasurable proof that he’s alive, that he came back to me, even if he didn’t think I cared either way.
“In here is fine,” I whisper.
“Then turn around.”
A thrill runs through me as I obey him, turning around, leaning forward with my hands against the wall as I arch my back, tilting my ass upwards as I open my thighs for him.How does he do this to me?I never knew this could be part of sex—making love—fucking. I never knew that submitting like this, obeying Connor’s biting commands while giving in to the pleasure his cock always brings, could create such intense arousal. That the mixture of humiliation and pleasure could be so potent.
His hand on my hip makes me shiver despite the humid heat of the shower. The hot water cascades down my shoulders and back, splashing off my ass as Connor’s fingers stroke between my thighs, sliding over my pussy as he parts my already swelling folds.
“You’re always so wet for me,” he groans, his voice low and rasping. “So ready.”
One finger pushes inside, then two, thrusting gently. Turning me on even more, arousing me, making sure that he can fuck me comfortably. That the tight fit between us won’t betootight. I shudder at the thought, anticipation flooding me as I push back on his fingers, arching as his thumb finds my clit. There’s no point in pretending I don’t want it. Connor knows how I respond to him. Even during the coldest, angriest sex we’ve had, I still can’t help coming for him. We might fight to the point of hating each other, but the other side of that coin is an undeniable sexual chemistry that lights me on fire every time he touches me. Nothing else feels like it. Not even Niall.
I almost lost that today. I almost losthim—I’ll lose it anyway, in time once I’m pregnant, but I push that thought away. I want to enjoy this, to enjoy Connor’s hands on me again, and everything else. I want to be glad he’s alive, here, with me.