Between Love and Loyalty Page 15

  She gently disengaged and sat back. “Why do my father and brother want you out of my life?”

  This was it. “I’m a felon.”

  Again, she flinched, but tried to cover it.

  “I went to prison for hit-and-run. I was drunk and high and a woman was injured. Being young and stupid, I fled the scene.” He couldn’t bring himself to tell her about Aiden. It ultimately wasn’t his place. As much as he wanted the world to know the truth, he couldn’t tell her. He didn’t want to hurt her. The story was Aiden’s to tell.

  Fiona didn’t speak, but she didn’t look away from him either. He couldn’t bear her scrutiny, so he moved to the edge of the bed. He braced his elbows on his knees and tried to think of a way to tell her the rest.

  “It’s in the past. What does that have to do with you being with me now?” She rubbed his back.

  The touch comforted him. He didn’t deserve any comfort. “I spent three years in prison. When I got out, I had no one. My mother had left the country, so I went back to my old stomping grounds. I got a job working for a bookie collecting debts.”

  Her hand paused on its circuitous path on his back.

  “I beat people up for money. It was pretty good money too. I tried to get a decent job, but no one wants to hire a felon. That’s why I’m not good enough for you. I’ll never pass the test.”

  “What test?”

  “The test of being in the public eye. I run my own business because I can ignore my past. The press will never ignore my past when it comes to your family. If my past was publicized and my business went belly-up, I couldn’t promise not to end up back in prison. I’d like to think I wouldn’t, that I could find a different way, but desperate people do desperate things.” The air around him pressed down heavily. He couldn’t look at Fiona, didn’t want to see the disappointment in her eyes.

  But part of him felt relieved. He’d never talked about any of this before and it was freeing. Hearing his own words shored his resolve. He and Fiona didn’t belong together. He’d drag her down, and he couldn’t live with himself if that happened. And it had nothing to do with her being a Cavanagh.

  He felt her move and knew she’d leave. He covered his face with his hands to avoid watching her walk out, knowing it would crush him. Her cool fingers peeled his hands away and held them. Connor looked up, fighting to keep his raw emotions in check.

  Fiona still didn’t talk, but moved closer and straddled him. He wrapped his arms around her, anchored himself to her as she leaned in and kissed him.

  This. His mind screamed. Fiona filled him with whatever acceptance she offered and for the first time in years, Connor experienced peace.

  * * *

  Fiona kissed Connor with all she had. She felt tears clawing at the back of her throat, but she wouldn’t give in. He didn’t need or want her tears, but she could give him this. Herself, her body. She could comfort him the same way he had her.

  She leaned back and peeled off her shirt and then tugged at his. She ran her hands across his chest, down his torso, and around to his back. His muscles bunched and flexed beneath her fingers, almost rejecting her touch. She continued to stroke his skin as her hips rocked against him.

  His eyes closed and she was grateful because the soul-crushing pain she’d glimpsed would bring her to tears. She eased off him to remove her pants and gently pushed him back to lie on the bed. When he finally looked at her, she saw nothing but desire. The man was a master at masking everything he felt.

  Climbing back on the bed, Fiona straddled Connor’s prone body. His erection strained against the sweatpants he wore. She rubbed against him, loving the friction, and kissed her way up his body to his face. He reached for her, his rough hands caressing her, turning her on even more. He gripped her hips and held her tight against his cock. She whimpered.

  Stretching closer, she nipped his earlobe and whispered, “Let me love you.”

  He growled deep in his chest and flipped her over. Before she could focus, he was kneeling in front of her, naked and sliding a condom on. He ran his fingers over her to test for her readiness, as if her gyrating and moaning hadn’t been clue enough.

  She trembled at his touch. She hated always being at his mercy. She wanted to make him feel better, yet he’d turned this back on her. Again.

  Connor covered her body and continued to stroke her while he sucked at her nipples. Her hips matched his rhythm. She was on the edge, gripping his shoulders, his scalp, pulling at him to join her. “Connor,” she said with the little breath remaining in her lungs.

  He rose up and slid his entire length into her. He curled his arms under and around her, surrounding every inch of her. He buried his face in her neck and inched out of her body. His movements were slow and precise as he drew out her pleasure. As always, Connor took the lead, taking her where he wanted, in his time. But somehow, this was different. She recognized it even as she spiraled out of control.

  Their slick bodies rubbed and slid against each other. Her muscles clenched around him and he froze. She pulled and pushed wanting to ride the pleasure but he pinned her down. She hung there for what seemed like hours, dangling on the edge of orgasm, her nerves tingling, her breath hitching. Finally, finally, Connor began to thrust, and everything in her exploded.

  His muscles strained on top of her and his body was rigid, but he whispered one word, “Mine.”

  Fiona had barely heard the word in the haze of oblivion. But as they lay panting and sweaty, she replayed the moment and wondered. Was he just controlling her pleasure, making sure she knew her orgasm was his? Or—and her heart gave a little leap at the thought—was he claiming her as his? Her lungs still struggled for air, but now the cause was unclear. Did the rampant thoughts running in her head or Connor’s weight pressing down her steal her breath?

  He shifted, pulling out of her, but not letting her go. Why wouldn’t he say something? Anything. Whatever connection she’d thought they’d had before the election had been magnified tonight. She knew he felt it too. He groaned and pulled away long enough to dispose of the condom. Fiona shivered with his momentary absence. When he returned to the bed, he stretched out beside her and pulled her close once again.

  Connor’s heart beat steady and sure beneath her ear. His muscles were relaxed under her hands. The tension that had clung to him disappeared. She’d accomplished something tonight. She sat up and looked into his eyes, searching for the past that haunted him, made him believe he wasn’t good enough. He smiled and it stole her breath.

  It was not his corner-lifted, half-smirk that she’d come to love. This smile transformed his face and broke her heart. She leaned down and pressed her lips to his. Then she stood to leave, the way she always did. If this was the best relationship she’d get, she’d learn to live with it.

  With her back to him, she straightened her shirt and pulled it on quickly, feeling more naked than ever.

  “Fiona.” His voice was craggy, like he hadn’t used it in years.

  She licked her lips and faced him.

  He searched her face like she’d done to him, but she had no idea what he was looking for. He lifted his hand and said the most important word she’d heard in a long time. “Stay.”

  She swallowed hard and tried not to read too much into the gesture. When her hand met his, he curled his fingers around hers and stood. He released her for a moment and removed her shirt again. The only explanation he offered was his half-smile. They crawled under the covers and Connor pulled her to him. The quiet of the room added to their intimacy. She closed her eyes and began to paint the feeling in her mind’s eye.

  This feeling needed something, required exposure. She wanted the world to experience what she felt at this moment. She could accomplish that through paint. Lying on her side, her head pillowed on Connor’s bicep and with his arms circling her, he sandwiched her hand between his palms.

  “I have another confession to make and I think after this one, you might hate me. I should’ve finished before we got naked.
” His voice had changed again, still heartbreaking.

  Fiona tried to turn to face him, but he held her tight.

  “No. I can’t look at you when I say this.”

  She stilled and waited. His breath blew against her hair. Minutes ticked by.

  “The Halloween party wasn’t the first time I met Aiden.”

  She couldn’t stop the tension in her shoulders, but she wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt.

  “When I told you I worked for a bookie and I did collections…I don’t know if you know this, but Aiden gambled. Often. Don’t know if he still does, but…he owed a lot of money. He probably could’ve gotten it from your father, but he refused. I beat the crap out of him.”

  Fiona couldn’t move. She didn’t know what she’d expected, but it wasn’t this. She didn’t know how she was supposed to feel about Connor’s admission. She waited to feel something, but nothing came.

  She wasn’t quite numb, but she no longer knew how to name her emotions. Aiden had done a lot of things to screw up his life. She knew because she’d covered for him and watched her father clean up after him too many times. Connor’s admission wasn’t too surprising.

  Connor’s heart raced against her back. Long gone was the calm thump she’d been comforted by.

  “I don’t want you to go,” he said, “but I understand if you need to.”

  Fiona still couldn’t move. It was like a glitch in her processing. While she didn’t know if Aiden deserved to get beaten, she was certain he knew exactly what he had gotten himself into. She stared at Connor’s hands still holding hers. They were big hands. Rough and scarred. Definitely capable of causing pain and destruction. But with her, they’d always been gentle and loving. Even when he was hurt and angry.

  “Fiona? Say something.”

  God, how she loved the way he said her name. Each time, it was like it held new meaning.

  “You don’t do this anymore, right?”

  “What? Collections?”

  She nodded.

  “No. I stopped four years ago.”

  “Okay.”

  His grip on her loosened, allowing her to turn in his arms. “What does that mean?”

  She touched his cheek. “I believe everyone can change and deserves a second chance. Hell, Aiden’s gotten more second chances than anyone I know.”

  “Everything I said before still holds true. I can never be what you need.”

  “You’re what I need right now. We can worry about the rest later.” She threw her leg over his hip and kissed him again. The rightness of their bodies together erased all confusion. Lying in Connor’s embrace for the night filled her with all she needed to know. As much as she’d tried not to be, she was in love.

  * * *

  Connor laid awake for hours while Fiona slept in his arms. She was too good for him. He’d admitted to beating the crap out of her brother, and she’d forgiven him. After that, he couldn’t tell her the rest. Not when she looked up at him with those bright blue eyes filled with understanding.

  She didn’t understand anything about him, but she thought she did. She believed she saw something in him that didn’t exist. He tried to show her, but she refused to see. And he wasn’t strong enough to push her away for good.

  He spent the night holding her, afraid it had been a dream, that he’d wake up and she’d be gone again, but in the morning sunshine, she still lay in his arms. He’d never been more grateful for anything. The bright light illuminated her pale skin and he stared at every visible inch of porcelain, interrupted only by scattered freckles across her shoulders.

  Thoughts of her last name clawed at him. How could they forge any kind of relationship with her being a Cavanagh? But she wasn’t one of them, not really, the sneaky little voice in his head reminded him. He’d known that from the start. No one got to choose the family they were born into. He wondered how they managed to keep Aiden’s past from her. She knew Aiden had had problems, but when he mentioned the accident, she showed no sign of recognition. Knowing the Cavanaghs, they probably pretended none of it ever happened.

  Could he do the same?

  If he pretended he never had a relationship with Aiden and the Cavanaghs, he could have Fiona. He tried to live his life like prison never happened, except when something reminded him. If he let go of his disgust for Brady Cavanagh, could he and Fiona have peace?

  Fiona stirred next to him. “I hear your brain spinning. It’s so loud it woke me up. What are you thinking about?”

  “Nothing.” He traced lines down her arm until she turned to face him.

  “Regretting last night?”

  He froze. “Are you?”

  “Never. You were honest and open with me. How could I possibly regret that?” She tossed her leg over his hip and tugged him closer to her.

  He didn’t know if he would be able to pretend the past didn’t exist, but for more time with her, he was willing to try. “What are your plans for the day?”

  She pushed against him, showing him at least part of what she had planned. He wouldn’t mind spending the day right there.

  “I have to go shopping. I need some more supplies. Want to join me?”

  Shopping? He’d rather eat a rat.

  She cupped his ass. “It’ll be fun.”

  “I hate malls.”

  “Not that kind of shopping. I need to hit the flea market. It’s where I get my best stuff.”

  Her nipples rubbed against his chest and his brain clouded. “Let’s stay here.”

  “I can’t. The market’s only open on the weekend. I can’t wait another week.” She tilted her hips into him.

  His hard-on raged and he couldn’t effectively negotiate in that condition. She reached over his shoulder, grabbed a condom, and covered him. Her cool fingers gliding over his heated flesh offered little relief. He rolled her under him and rubbed against her already-wet entrance.

  She smiled playfully. “I’ll let you feel me up in the truck at red lights.”

  “Maybe I’ll just chain you up here and have you whenever I want.”

  Her eyes danced as she readied another quip, but he thrust into her. Her breath hitched and then she sighed as he sank the rest of the way in. As her warmth surrounded him, he knew he’d be spending his day at the flea market. In that moment, he would’ve given anything she asked.

  Five hours and miles of walking later, Connor could barely remember why he had agreed to join Fiona. Part of him understood her excitement over finding the perfect piece of junk—and it was crap: broken dishes, old buttons, antique pins—because he knew the feeling when he discovered just the right hunk of wood for building something. He looked at her bags of unwanted material the same way some people saw a tree stump.

  But he knew she’d make something beautiful from it. He’d seen enough of her work to know she was talented. He piled the bags into the back seat of the truck and prayed she was done.

  “Sorry it took so long. I’m usually done in an hour or two. Sometimes, there’s so much to look at though…” She ran a finger from his shoulder down the center of his shirt to the button on his jeans. “I’ll make it up to you. I’m promise.”

  He leaned against the door and brought her with him. He really liked the way their bodies aligned. With his hands on her ass, he lowered his head to kiss her. He brushed his lips against hers and asked, “What did you have in mind?”

  “We could pick up some dinner and head back to your place to eat. Naked. Then we can watch TV. Naked. Then we can go to bed—”

  “Naked,” he growled, getting harder at the thought. He looked around and wondered if they could get naked in the parking lot. But a security guard drove by, ruining the plan.

  Fiona wiggled against him. She opened her mouth the say something, but her phone rang. She stepped away from him to answer it, and he took that as his cue to get in the truck. His dick was so hard he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to walk. He adjusted himself as discreetly as possible and Fiona snickered into her phone as she
answered, “Hello.”

  “Hi, Aiden. If you’re calling on Mom’s behalf to yell at me, don’t bother.”

  Connor stopped and listened. He wasn’t sure how to feel about her talking to her brother. How could he pretend she wasn’t a Cavanagh when they were around so often?

  “Yes, I left the wedding early with John, but we went our separate ways.” She climbed into the seat and shut the door. “No. I’ll call you later. Better yet, I’ll meet you for coffee in the morning.”

  She disconnected and Connor started the engine. He wanted to ask about the conversation, but didn’t. Part of accepting who Fiona was meant ignoring things like phone calls from her brother. Knowing that didn’t prevent the tension from taking hold in his shoulders.

  “Something wrong?”

  Connor focused on pulling into traffic. “No.”

  “You seem a little tense.”

  He drove, keenly aware of her staring at him.

  “Don’t tell me nothing’s wrong. Don’t shut me out. Not after last night.”

  He stole a peek at her. Her words tugged at his guilt. “Look, Fiona, I’m not a sharer. Don’t expect me to pour my heart out at every turn. It’s not going to happen. But right now, I can’t help but wonder what’s supposed to happen here.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean with your brother. I explained our past. We both know he doesn’t like me, and he wants to keep you as far from me as possible. How to you see that playing out?” His grip on the steering wheel tightened.

  She scooted closer to him on the bench seat. Her hand rubbed his thigh. “My brother doesn’t choose who I date.”

  Connor didn’t respond. There was nothing else to say. Maybe she believed that line of bullshit, but her family had more control over her life than she wanted to admit.

  “They’re my family. That’s not going to change, and I do talk to Aiden often. He’s not the same guy you beat up years ago. He turned his life around. I don’t expect you to be friends with him, but you need to accept he’s in my life.”