Our Secret Moments (Drayton Hills Series)
Our Secret Moments: Chapter 19

I HAD the best night’s sleep of my life.

I always crash straight away after drinking, completely abandoning my hair care routine, but last night was different. I knew it was a bad idea drinking just to avoid reality, but my feelings for Connor had run deeper than I thought they could.

There was a new sense of comfort, of calm, that washed right over me when I was in his arms, meaning I didn’t need to come up with any pathetic scenarios or trick myself into going to sleep. Sleep came to me naturally and it was because of him.

At some point in the night, I ended up curled over him, straddling him like a koala before eventually finding myself on my back again, but then he rolled on top of me. His weight wasn’t something that I feared becoming too consuming. It felt welcoming. And for the first time in a while, I had hoped. I had hoped that it would happen again.

Not right now, though, as the sun shines through the blinds of my windows and my head throbs from the lack of medication after last night’s party. Connor’s head is resting in the middle of my chest, right on my boob as his hand slings around my waist, pulling us a lot closer than we need to be.

He looks so beautiful it hurts.

His hair is a mess, the brown shining a sort-of gold colour in the light, falling crazily across his forehead and on my tank top. There are the tiniest, faintest freckles that scatter along his nose that make butterflies swarm around my stomach. His cheeks have remained in a permanent soft smile that I’ve wanted to kiss off him since I woke up.

“Connie,” I murmur, gently stroking my hand over his forehead, brushing his hair back. He stirs slightly, not opening his eyes. “You need to get up.”

“No,” he groans, nestling his face further between my boobs. I watch the smirk form across his face because he knows exactly what he’s doing as my nipples pebble at the attention. “Too comfy.”

“Sorry to interrupt whatever you have going on with my boobs, but I’m being serious,” I say, trying to sit up. I eventually manage to sit against my headboard, but he still rests his head in my lap, looking up at me with a dreamy, puppy-like look.

That feeling that I got in my chest when I watched him sleep just grew tenfold.

“How are you feeling?” he asks me, ignoring my plea. Fine. Maybe engaging in conversation will get him to leave my room quicker and get him out before anyone sees him.

“Better,” I say. Last night was rough. I know better than that. It was either drinking until I could see stars or allowing myself to sit with my mind and my feelings. Both options were as overwhelming as the other, but the former felt less lonely. “Sober,” I clarify.

He just nods at me before shifting out of my lap and sitting beside me, a little more awake than before. His huge, veiny hand finds its way on to my thigh, his thumb stroking circles on my inner thigh.

He always seems too comfortable when he’s with me and I feel the same with him. As much as I’ve had crushes on him that came and went, I didn’t think that I’d ever end up with him in my bed.

He’s Connor Bailey, he could have anyone he wants to, but for some reason he’s been stuck to me, tethered to me for a while and I’m afraid to get rid of him.

“Aren’t you worried that your sister will see you, or know that you spent the night?” I ask, needing some sort of excuse. I turn to him, but his eyes are already on me.

He shrugs. “Not really.”

“Really? I don’t even know what happened myself, she’s going to be more confused than me,” I say, shaking my head at the thought of what could happen if she saw him like this. How in the hell is he so calm? My pulse is racing for no reason other than the fact that he’s this close to me, and is in my bed.

“Has anyone ever told you how cute of a drunk you are?” he asks, his voice rough. I just blink at him, sucking in a breath so I don’t run out of air. His hand moves up my thigh, hardly even half an inch. “You were rambling, talking about things you would never say to me sober.”

“What was I saying?” I ask, half of me afraid to hear the answer. His hand moves higher again. The skin-to-skin contact combined with the size of his hand makes my stomach dip.

“I learned some very important things last night, Catherine,” he whispers, his hand moving higher. What’s worse is that he’s not looking at me. Instead, he’s looking right where his hand is while I watch it move up further, not wanting him to stop. He doesn’t have to see how much he’s affecting me. He can feel it.

“Connor,” I whisper, not sure what for. His hand slips under my shorts, the heat of his thumb coming dangerously close to my panties.

My heart might fall out of my chest.

Everything feels too good when it comes to him – so new. Nothing else is able to come out of my mouth as his hand reaches the apex of my thighs. I try my hardest not to clench my legs together, to keep holding out as long as I can, but the second his head falls to my neck, I know I’m a goner.

He presses a long kiss to my collarbone which is flushed with heat, silently begging for the sexual frustration to be worked out of me. My hands have nothing to do. They close into fists before smoothing out again and I eventually grab his shirt, needing some sort of stability as his mouth works wonders on my sensitive skin.

“It confirmed to me what you were trying to deny in the hot tub,” Connor whispers, grazing his teeth against my neck. A soft whimper escapes my throat at the contact, causing shivers to spread all over my body. “You want me just as badly as I want you.”

I can’t deny him. How could I?

My hand is literally twisted into his shirt right now, desperately trying to keep him close to me. It’s been obvious since day one.

It was clear when I teased him on purpose during the first round of interviews. I knew that I wanted him when he was vulnerable with me and asked me for help. I knew it when he listened to me, took care of me and he let me do the same for him. I knew that I wanted to taste him, to feel him, when he pushed me against the wall at Oliver’s house.

I think I knew it a long time ago and I was too afraid to admit it because Connor Bailey manages to be the sweetest, funniest, sexiest person I know without even trying and it pisses me off just as much as it intrigues me.

He’s managed to trip me up more than once, leaving me speechless yet silently begging for more, which is why I get the confidence I need to surprise him for once, to make it clear that I want this, that I want him.

His voice is low and thick, every nerve in my body heightened as he presses his lips to the shell of my ear. “So, I’m going to give you one chance to tell me if you want me – if you want this – because I’m so sick of waiting, Cat.”

I turn to him, finally getting him exactly where I want him, his nose brushes against mine, his mouth only a breath away. I don’t waste any more time before I press my hands onto his broad shoulders and climb into his lap, my body fitting perfectly with his just like it did in the hot tub. Except this time, I know exactly what I want.

A satisfied groan leaves him when my hips roll into his accidentally as I try to make myself comfortable. Instantly, his hands find my waist, gently squeezing. He cocks his head to the side playfully. “You going to tell me, or what?”

“How about I show you instead?”

He hums happily, crushing my chest to his. “That’s my girl.”

My chest warms at the praise, and I finally press my lips to his, stealing the taste I’ve been so desperate for. Connor tastes just as I expected. He tastes like he was made for me – fresh, soft, slightly like vanilla, yet wholly masculine and strong. His lips fight over mine, tasting, branding, claiming and I let him.

I tease my tongue through the seam of his lips, and he opens his mouth willingly, letting my tongue slip into his warmth. My whole body relaxes as I sigh into his mouth. A strangled groan passes through my mouth as the grip he has on my waist tightens, his nails digging into my flesh, causing heat to pool between my legs.

His mouth is so welcoming and inviting, I just want more. I’m hardly breathing anymore, just desperate and eager to get as much of him as I can. We easily become a mess of teeth, tongue, hands and mouths practically begging each other to keep going as we pant and writhe. I push my hands through his hair, greedily pulling like my life depends on this moment right here.

His kisses become harder, more focused as if he’s trying to pull a reaction out of me. When his determined hands roll me over him, my heat contacting the thickness in his jeans, a whiny moan leaves my mouth, straight into his.

He pulls apart from me at the sound, shaking his head, his lips slightly swollen as he rolls them in and then back out. His gaze roams over my face quickly before travelling down to my tank top that is falling off my shoulder.

“You’re so beautiful, Catherine,” he says, leaning back once more to admire me. “So, fucking pretty.”

A weird, familiar feeling washes over me. “I just got déjà vu,” I whisper.

“How? What other men do you kiss like this?” he asks seriously, narrowing his eyes at me.

“No,” I laugh, “It was because of what you just said.”

“That’s not the first time I’ve said that. I’ve been saying it in my head for years and I told you last night when you stripped for me,” he murmurs. My eyes widen in horror. When did I strip for him? His low chuckle instantly soothes me. “Not like that. I wished it was though.”

The pieces of last night slowly come back to me in hazy blurs.

“I want you to come to bed with me.”

“You don’t want to know the places I’ve imagined your mouth being.”

“I want to do more than just dance with you, too.”

“You’re on your knees in front of me. My thoughts are not very PG right now.”

I shove my hot face into my hands, shaking my head. “Oh god,” I muffle. “I’m so fucking embarrassed.”

Connor pries my hands away from my face, twisting them between his hands, holding them tight. “Don’t be,” he says gently. He presses a soft kiss to my lips, pulling back slightly as he bites my bottom lip. “You looked beautiful then and you look… fucking stunning right now.”

He knows exactly how to make me feel special. He knows me so well that it freaks me out a little. I kiss him again, pressing my chest right against his, rolling my hips a few times to feel his erection against my aching centre.

“Catherine,” he whines. His voice is so needy and deeply twisted with pleasure that it washes over me perfectly, reaching every corner of my body. The sound sends another wave of want down to where I’m aching for him. Satisfied and motivated to make him sound like that again, I repeat the move, kissing him with a smile still plastered on my face.

“Cat!”

Well, that’s a little dramatic.

It’s only when I realise that Connor isn’t kissing me back that the sound didn’t come from him and there’s a rapid knock on my door.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Nora is knocking on my door. And Connor is in my bed. Connor, my best friend’s twin brother, is underneath me, hard, panting, his hands up my shirt as I kiss him senseless.

She continues knocking as I slide off Connor as soundly as I can and he jumps to his feet, knocking over a book on my nightstand. His hand flies to his face, trying to smother his laugh.

“Cat, I know you’re awake. I can hear you.”

“What is it, Nor?” I ask. Connor’s eyes widen and the smile is wiped off his face. I hold my hands up in defeat. There is no way he thought I could just ignore her, did he? I gesture for him to move from my bed, quietly too. He tiptoes over the book he just dropped.

“I need some Tylenol. This hangover is the worst,” she groans.

“All your hangovers are the worst, Nor,” I say, trying my best to clean up my bed.

“You make it sound like I have a drinking problem,” she mumbles. Connor’s still staring at me, wide-eyed, patiently waiting for instructions. What the hell am I doing fooling around with my best friend’s brother whilst she’s home? She bangs on the door again. “Cat, just let me in. My head is about to explode.”

“Just wait, Nora,” I say, immediately feeling bad about being impatient with her when I’m the one who has messed up. I notice Connor’s shoes at the foot of the bed, and I quickly shove them under the bed.

I grab him by his shoulders, unsure what to do with him. He’s too big to fit in my closet. He’s way too big to fit under my bed. I press him against the wall, ready to open the door, knowing that from Nora’s angle she should only be able to see me, my closet and my desk for what should be a very short conversation. “Stay there and be quiet,” I mouth to Connor, and he nods.

“What are you doing?” she asks again, knocking.

“Your brother,” I sigh, finally opening the door, inch by aching inch until only my head is in view. Connor’s hand teases my waist, pulling at the band of my shorts. I’m going to kill him.

Nora looks exactly how she does every morning after a party – her medium length brown hair is a mess of knots, her mascara is smudged, and her lip gloss is smeared across her cheek as she rocks a Twilight shirt and sleep shorts.

“Excuse me? You’re doing my brother?” she asks, rubbing at her temples as she closes her eyes. I take the opportunity to turn back to Connor who is grinning at me, dipping his hand up my shirt and across my back. ‘Nice save,’ he whispers the words so quietly I can hardly hear them.

I shake my head at him, biting my lip before turning back to her. “Yeah, I gave the rest to Connor last night. He said they had run out and Wes needed it. He asked me for some before he left.”

She rolls her eyes. “He’s such a dick.”

“I know,” I agree. As the words leave my mouth his hand travels into the waistband of my shorts, trailing along the seam of my panties and I push the door more closed until my body is fully out of view.

Nora narrows her eyes. “Why do you look like that?”

“Like what?” I breathe out, the heat of Connor’s hand almost making me go dizzy as his hands trail across my stomach. Nora scans my face, her eyebrows pinched together.

“I dunno. You just look a little shaken up. Are you okay?” she asks, crossing her arms against her chest.

“Because you’ve woken me out of my slumber to search for your Tylenol that your dickhead brother took,” I retort, tilting my head to the side. Connor’s hand flexes against my stomach.

“Hm,” she hums. “That’s fair. I’ll ask Elle-Belle.”

I nod and finally shut the door, lock it, and sigh against it. Connor immediately comes into my view, smirking at me as he crowds over me. He has a habit of making me feel smaller than I actually am.

“You played that hating me part a little too well, Cat,” he whispers, his eyes darkening.

“Did you want me to tell her that I was straddling you in my bed two minutes ago? Because I can call her back and tell her,” I challenge, tugging on the bottom of his shirt, needing him closer to me.

“You wouldn’t dare,” he breathes.

I don’t need any more subtle hints to my lips before I stand on my tiptoes, curl his shirt in my hands as I press my mouth to his. Compared to the hard, desperate kiss he gave me earlier, this one is calmer, more paced.

It feels like we have all the time in the world as his fresh taste settles over me, becoming one with my mouth. He groans as he brings both of his hands to the side of my face, holding me tight. His hands tangle into my hair, pulling on my curls, his nails caressing my scalp. The physical contact puts my body on high alert.

I force myself to pull back from him, needing a second to breathe.

I can feel his smile against my lips, and I almost lose all composure.

“You’re right,” I murmur, “I wouldn’t say anything. But, if we do this, Connie – whatever this is – she can’t find out. Not until we’re both ready. We could royally fuck up everything.”

“I know,” he whispers, dropping his forehead to mine.

“Are you sure?” I tease, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “Because you’ve been on a little rebellious streak lately.”

He shakes his head lightly, laughing a little. “Whatever happens, this is going to be worth it.”

“What makes you so sure of that?”

“Because it’s you, Catherine. Anything and everything you do is perfect. I don’t see why this would be any different,” he says with certainty. When I look up at him and catch his dark gaze, his hands still cupping my face, I kiss him back and I believe him.

I want to see where hoping can take me.

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