Live Without Regret (A Touch of Fate)

By: K.L. Grayson



That sound…holy shit that sound. I want to hear it again.

My tongue swipes along the seam of his lips and he opens up. Tilting my head to the side, I give him full control and he doesn’t hesitate to take the reins. The fact that we’re making out on a dance floor in the middle of a crowded bar should bother me. It doesn’t. I don’t care who sees us. In fact, if his tongue keeps doing that swirly thing it’s doing, I’ll likely let him have his way with me right here and now.

Connor pulls back far too soon. I groan in frustration and the bastard has the nerve to chuckle. Fisting my hand in his hair, I try to yank his mouth back to mine but he resists. Instead, his hot mouth finds its way to my neck. Trailing his lips along my jaw, he finds my ear. “I changed my mind,” he whispers.

His words slam into me. There’s no need for Connor to explain or elaborate. I know what he’s referring to, and it’s exactly what I wanted.

Right?

So why does it feel so wrong? Why do I have this strong urge to get to know him, and why in the world do I have this strange feeling that one night with him won’t be enough?

I shouldn’t, but I want to know what makes him tick. I want to know what makes him smile, what makes him angry. I want to know what his favorite color is and what Christmas traditions he treasures most. I want to know every little thing that will cause him to make that sexy rumble I love so much.

Hope sparks deep in my chest, and it’s that hope that should have me running for the hills. It serves as a reminder of why I made my rule to begin with, which in turn leads me to grabbing Connor’s hand. He glances at our joined hands and then back at me.

“My place or yours?” I ask. Without waiting for an answer, I all but drag him toward the door. I need to get this over with in the slowest possible way. Meaning, I need to cherish every second with Connor because I can’t allow myself to have him after tonight. I’m in too deep…and I don’t even know his middle name. That alone spells disaster. But I’m weak and can’t walk away. This thirst I have for him has been growing since we met in his shop three weeks ago, and tonight I’m going to quench it.

As we approach the door, I glance over my shoulder, expecting to see hesitation on Connor’s face. There is none. Squaring his shoulders, he smiles confidently, and when I cock a brow, urging him to answer, he says just one word: “Mine.”

Hell yes, I’m yours…for tonight.

I don’t bother to tell him I only live a couple of miles away, because his place is probably a better choice. At least this way I can make a clean break when it’s over.

Connor leads me to his car, and in a matter of seconds we’re speeding away. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I check the compartment on the back of my case, ensuring my ID and credit card are still firmly in place. Then I shoot Casey a quick text.

Me: Left with Connor. We’re going back to his place. Leave your phone on; you’ll have to come get me later.

Her reply is almost immediate.

Casey: Good for you. It’s about time your vagina gets a workout.

Me: My vagina gets regular workouts, thank you very much.

Casey: BOB doesn’t count.

I shake my head, smiling. How does she know I have a battery-operated boyfriend? I choose not to reply to that comment though, because you get Casey started on something and she won’t stop.

Casey: Where does Connor, the tattoo artist, live?

Good question. I look up at the same time Connor makes a left-hand turn. Squinting, I focus on the street sign to see where exactly we are.

Davenport Way.

Hold up.

Davenport Way?

“You live out here?” I ask as we pass a familiar line of duplexes.

“I do,” he says, turning onto Baylor Hills Drive.

“Nice neighborhood.” Connor drives by yet another familiar street and I shoot off one more text to Casey.

Me: Not sure I’ll need you to pick me up. I’ll explain in the morning. Be good tonight. Love you.

“Thanks,” he says. I tuck my phone in my pocket and look up as he pulls into a driveway.

No fucking way.

Stepping out of the car, I shut the door and stare at Connor’s duplex. I don’t hear him walk toward me, but I know he’s there. I can feel him. The hair on my neck stands up any time he gets close, and my heart starts bouncing around inside my chest as though it’s trying to get his attention.

I take a deep breath. “Are you sure this is what you want?” I ask, giving him an out and secretly hoping he’ll take it. As much as I want to spend one night—this night—with Connor, I know that one of us is going to end up getting hurt, and it won’t be me. I won’t let it be me.

Connor’s warm hand wraps around mine. My knees go weak at the soft, unexpected touch. “I won’t lie. I want nothing more than for you to throw your rules out the window.” I try to remove my hand from his, but Connor only tightens his grip. “But,” he says, laughing at my weak attempt to get away, “I understand you have your rules for a reason. I wish I knew what that reason was so I could find a way to push past it, but I realize that isn’t what you want and I respect that.”

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