On our way out the door, I start to tell Connor抯 youngest, 揜emember, Spence, don抰棓
He rolls his eyes. 揇on抰 eat any shrimp. I know, Violet.?
I may have reminded him once or . . . sixty times before.
But I can抰 help it if I抦 more traumatized than either he or Connor. And I抣l get over it . . . eventually . . . like when he抯 eighty.
The Piano Man is a bustling, old-school bar with gleaming mahogany trimmings and supersonic speakers connected to a jukebox. Every stool along the bar is filled, the round tables are packed, and the dance floor is hopping with hip-shaking, head-bopping people dancing to the best singable tunes.
And at the center of it all is our rowdy group of medical professionals. Because if anyone knows how to have a good time, it抯 people who work in the business of life and death every single day.
Two hours after we arrive, I抦 on the dance floor, arms high and liberated, my feet stomping to Simon & Garfunkel抯 揅ecilia.?I抳e lost count of the number of Hawaiian pineapple cosmos I抳e ingested, but what can I say . . . they抮e tasty. My limbs are loose, my vision is hazy around the edges, and my heart thumps with sweet, giddy happiness on every beat.
Connor抯 at the table, laughing at something Tanner just said. But his eyes are riveted on me梠bserving, like I抦 something fascinating and rare. Like he could go his whole life never looking at any other woman and he抎 be perfectly, absolutely content.
It makes me feel powerful. And emotional. Protected and wanted and rapturously sexy. He makes me feel everything.
The song changes to something slower that begins with a moving piano solo. The girls I抦 dancing with桬ffie and Alice, the latter a mild-mannered anesthesiologist with a wild streak梙ead back to the table to wet their whistles.
But I stay right there.
Because Connor Daniels is on the move . . . and he抯 moving straight to me.
He wraps one arm around my lower back and folds his other hand into mine as the male singer抯 voice croons through the speakers. And I realize I know this song, I love this song梚t抯 揅hances Are?by Bob Seger and Martina McBride.
揧ou look like you抮e having fun.?His warm breath tickles my ear.
揢nderstatement.?
I抦 a little unsteady on my feet, but I don抰 have to worry . . . he抯 got me.
揂re you having fun??I ask.
His grin is a little bit dirty, kind of suggestive梐ll ruggedly beautiful.
揥atching you? You have no idea.?
I sink against him with a relaxed sigh. It抯 the sound you make when you抮e submerged in a warm, scented bubble bath and you don抰 have any worries or troubles because the heated water cradles you, surrounds you, and in that moment everything is just perfect. Connor is my happy place.
揟his is a great song,?he says above my head.
揑 was just thinking that.?But then another thought flits through my brain and out of my mouth. 揟his wasn抰 like your and Stacey抯 wedding song or anything, was it??
揘o,?he scoffs.
Then he looks into my eyes.
揃ut I was kind of hoping it could be our song.?
I feel myself smile梑ut smile doesn抰 really cover it. Because my lips stretch so broad and wide it feels like my mouth consumes half my face.
And my stomach and my heart are somehow smiling too.
揜eally??
揧eah. It reminds me of us.?Connor glances at the floor梐lmost shyly梐nd he抯 never shy. 揥hen you weren抰 talking to me, I used to drive past your road on the way home from work.?
My cosmo-soaked brain takes a moment to process the information.
揃ut my road isn抰 on your way home.?
揑 know . . . but it felt like it was. Like you were on my way home. I would park at the corner at the end of your street, just for a little while. Because I was hoping to get a glimpse of you. I wanted to be near you, in any way I could.?
He shakes his head, glancing over my shoulder. 揑 can抰 believe I抦 fucking telling you this. Pretty pathetic, huh??
I stare at him meaningfully.
揑 wrote a poem about your penis.?
Connor found my box of poems the other day梩o my ever-burning, napalm-level shame. It抯 my fault; I left the lid of the jewelry box open and he walked past and saw the top paper titled 揅onnor抯 Cock.?
What man wouldn抰 take a second look at that?
He chuckles at me at the reminder.
揂nd it抯 not pathetic,?I tell him. 揑 think it抯 romantic. The most romantic thing anyone has ever done. And it抯 a relief.?
揂 relief??
揧eah. For so long I had you up on this unreachably high pedestal. And then, at the wedding, you came down off of it and you were human. You were real. And I liked the real you even more. So it抯 a relief to know you liked me as much as I liked you. That we抮e on the same page.?
He stares at our clasped hands, his voice hushed and soft.
揥e are, Violet. We抮e on the exact same page.?
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Connor
I don抰 take Violet back to her house after we leave The Piano Man. I抦 not ready for our night to be over yet. Because I抦 having too good of a time . . . and because Violet is just too damn cute when she抯 wasted. We get to my house a little after midnight.
Aaron and Brayden are playing the great unifier桟all of Duty梠n the Xbox in the living room with what sounds like a dozen other kids online. Spencer is already in bed.
I grab two bottles of water from the fridge and tell the boys, 揤iolet and I are going to watch TV in my room for a little while.?
揧ep,?Aaron answers, but with his fingers working double-time on the remote, I抦 not sure it抯 me he抯 answering.
揥atch your six!?Brayden says into the headset.
And my work here is done. I lead Violet up the staircase.
I抦 the master and commander of my internal time clock, so I抦 not worried about falling asleep. Doctors have a legendary ability to immediately crash into REM sleep or to stay awake and alert for hours on end, depending on the circumstances.
I close my bedroom door and lock it梚n case Vi wants to change into something more comfortable. And I honestly figure we抣l hang out, talk, maybe watch a movie.
Violet抯 idea is so much better.
揑s it wrong that I want you to fuck me even though your kids are downstairs??
My mouth goes dry and my voice rises an octave梖rom the stampede of blood descending toward my groin.
揘ope. Not wrong at all.?
Her smile is naughty and her eyes are dark and shiny, and she抯 so frigging pretty she makes my chest throb.
Violet sinks down on her knees in front of me, keeping contact with my gaze. And there is nothing on earth that抯 hotter梟othing more arousing than a woman who is hungry for you and not ashamed to show it.
She opens my jeans, tugging them down my hips and pumping the already stiff shaft. Then she slides my cock between her lips. My head rolls back on my neck as her tongue swirls, and her head bobs and the sweet suction of her wet mouth is so divine it抯 like she抯 trying to suck out my soul.
My hands clench and a surge of rough urgency rises in me. I lift Violet up under her arms and we kiss hard. I slip my fingers under the straps of her lacy sundress, sliding it down her arms to the floor. I bend my knees, kissing across the swell of her breasts, unhooking her strapless bra and letting it fall. Then I spin us around and place her on the bed.
She looks stunning there, her long hair across my pillows, laid out just for me.
And I know at this moment I could do anything to her. Because she trusts me. Completely and unreservedly. It抯 there in her round, waiting eyes and splayed limbs. There抯 nothing I could want to do to her that she wouldn抰 let me.