Live Without Regret (A Touch of Fate)

By: K.L. Grayson

The wind picks up, blowing a strand of hair in front of my face. Connor drops my hand and brushes the hair from my eyes. “Ready?” His voice is strained, and a part of me wonders if it’s because he wants this just as badly as I do or if it’s because he knows he’s making a mistake.

I pause, giving myself the opportunity to walk away, but apparently my feet have a different agenda. Because when Connor grabs my hand and leads me toward his door, I follow.

With one hand still connected to mine, Connor unlocks his door and pushes it open. We step inside, and when he walks to the left to flick on the lights, I step further into the open space and toss my phone on the entryway table.

His home is gorgeous, and not at all like the bachelor pad I expected. The walls are a deep blue accented with dark wood trim, and the room is filled with oversized, chocolate-colored furniture. It fits Connor perfectly, but it’s almost too perfect.

I look closer to find that the mantel is adorned with framed pictures and knickknacks. A vase filled with fresh flowers sits on a hutch tucked in the corner. Intricately decorated throw pillows adorn the couch and a fluffy blue afghan is draped over the arm of the recliner. All of the details indicate a woman’s touch, but what woman? A sister, a mother, an old girlfriend…a best friend, maybe?

That last thought is like a bucket of ice water being dumped on my head, and I’m reminded why it doesn’t matter who decorated this place. This is the last time I’ll be here.

Squaring my shoulders, I turn to find Connor standing off to the side, his eyes igniting a fire as they roam over my body. I stalk toward him until his back is pressed against the wall. His gaze drops to my mouth, but I don’t give him a chance to think, let alone react. I seal my lips over his and our tongues collide, instantly dueling for power. Sliding, pushing, and sucking, neither of us is willing to give up control.

Connor tastes like pure fucking heaven.

Connor shouldn’t taste like pure fucking heaven.

Tearing my lips away from his, I slide them across his jaw. Dragging my mouth to his ear, I nip at it playfully before sucking the soft flesh into my mouth. “Bedroom. Now,” I whisper.

Strong arms wrap around my waist and lift me off the ground. As he takes off down the hall, I lock my ankles behind his back then claim his mouth in a heated kiss. He growls in response, and before I know it I’m wedged between the wall and a rock hard body with Connor’s erection cradled between my thighs. Tilting my hips, I grind against him.

He pulls his lips from mine. “You’re killing me,” he says, trailing his mouth down the side of my neck. The sound of his gravelly voice shoots straight to my clit, and I push against him harder, trying to ease the ache.

“Easy,” he murmurs. “We’ve got all night.”

The scruff on his face scrapes against the sensitive skin of my neck when he talks, and it’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before. More. I want more.

I open my mouth to tell him I can’t wait—that I want him right here, right now. But then he pulls the front of my shirt down, exposing my white lace bra, and all thoughts flee from my brain.

“That’s sexy as hell, but I want what’s underneath,” he says, tugging the bra down as well. My breasts pop out and he places open-mouthed kisses around one of my nipples, then blows lightly. My nipple tightens and Connor grins before bringing his lips back to my breast and devouring it. The sight proves to be too much and I drop my head back against the wall, thrusting my chest into his face. He laves one breast and then moves on to the next, all the while torturing me with slow circular motions and tiny nips.

Against my belly his erection grows, along with my desire to touch him. Dipping my hand between our bodies, I flick the button of his jeans open and lower the zipper. Connor releases my nipple with a wet pop, and keeping me anchored against the wall, he pulls his hips back enough for me to shove his pants down. Rock solid and throbbing, his erection bobs heavily between us and I wrap my fingers around his length and stroke several times. Pushing his body flush against mine, Connor drops his face to the crook of my neck. He pumps his hips, thrusting himself into my hand. We’re both panting as our bodies fight to get closer, desperate for some sort of release.

“Fuck,” he growls, sinking his teeth into the side of my neck.

I had no idea that giving a guy a hand job could be so erotic. Then again, I guess it isn’t what I’m doing…it’s who I’m doing it to. Connor’s warm breath against my neck and the grunts that keep rumbling from his chest tell me he’s close, but I don’t want him to get off in my hand.

I release my grip on his cock. Looking up, he furrows his brows, then reluctantly lets go of my legs and I lower them to the ground. Warm hands wrap around my upper arms, steadying me until I find my balance. When I’ve regained some control, I nudge Connor across the hall until his back meets the opposite wall. My fingers trail up his shirt and I slowly work my way back down, undoing each button as I go. The soft flannel falls open and I can’t help it—I have to get a better look at this crazy beautiful man.

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