through his hair. “Look, I’m sorry if I made you feel…” he trailed off, looking at me warily. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“Then why did you?”
“I don’t have a good answer for you. Nothing I can say is going to make you happy. That’s why I keep saying we should just drop this.”
“Just drop it. Right.” Frustration boiled over into anger. “Drop it like you dropped me. Because apparently I just didn’t matter that much to you. That’s the only thing that makes sense.”
“Julian—”
“Did you even like me? In the beginning? Or was I just something else for you to break that year?”
I took a step towards Connor, and he took another one back, which only made me angrier. He had no right to come into my yard, onto my island, and upend my entire life. No right. I took another step, backing him right up against the magnolia’s trunk.
I’d spent my life trying to keep my emotions in check. To stay in control. I didn’t like the way it felt when I let them get the best of me, and I never wanted to become like my dad. But I couldn’t help it right now.
“Did you ever want me?” I leaned in close and Connor flinched. He actually flinched. “What? You scared that I might touch you? Are you that disgusted by what we were, by what I led you into?”
He grabbed the front of my shirt. I sucked in a sharp breath of air. I was not going to be scared. No matter how much Connor had changed, I wouldn’t believe he wanted to hurt me.
I glared back at him. He probably just wanted to intimidate me into shutting up. Well, I wouldn’t let him.
“You think I’m disgusted by you? By us?”
Before I could answer, he flipped us around and pressed my back to the tree.
“You think I don’t want to touch you? You think I never wanted—”
He closed the distance between us with his lips. It was more a weapon than a kiss—hard and dark and angry, and I didn’t care. I didn’t care because this. This was what I’d been missing all these years, this was what I’d half convinced myself I’d made up. But I hadn’t. It was real, and it was happening again.
My lips moved against his, seeking, probing, my tongue exploring his mouth. I was still pissed, still ready to scream, but dammit, it was Connor and he was as intoxicating as ever. I bit down on his lower lip and he grunted, but didn’t pull away. Good. I hoped it left a mark.
And then his lips were gone. He pulled back, and as his left hand pinned my shoulder to the tree, his right slid down and began to unzip my fly. My eyes widened in shock, because a) holy shit, and b) I was rock hard, and had no idea how long that had been the case. This whole time? It seemed entirely possible. Connor had that effect on me.
I was still trying to get my brain to work when Connor growled, “Don’t you dare tell me what I want. Don’t you dare tell me what I feel.”
“I don’t—I didn’t mean—”
“You think you led me into it all? You think you’re the one who started it?”
“I kissed you first,” I whispered.
“I’m the one who crawled through your bedroom window. I’m the one who wanted you from the moment I saw you.” He slipped his hand underneath the fabric of my boxer-briefs. “I wanted you then and I want you now.”
His mouth moved to my neck as he stroked my cock. My breath fluttered like a heart pumping its last beats. How the hell was this happening?
Connor sucked the bottom of my earlobe into his mouth, then caressed the sensitive skin there with his tongue, and dammit, he had no right to remember how to make me come undone.
I blinked furiously against the tears that suddenly pressed against the backs of my eyes. I did not cry, and I certainly did not cry in front of asshole exes who were currently giving me handjobs in my backyard.
His left hand slid to my lower back, kneading the muscles there, right in the spot where I always carried tension. Connor wasn’t delicate with me—he never had been. It was one of the many things I’d loved about him. He didn’t treat me like I was breakable, just because he knew my history.
Connor’s right hand worked my shaft with quick, strong strokes. He took