Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

C onnor’s fingers tapped against the faded tartan pattern of the scratchy woollen blanket. A relic that had survived countless beach bonfires. His gaze drifted over the darkening waves of Cairnhaven’s shore, where the sun dipped towards the horizon. Beach grasses bent in the breeze, silhouetted against a sky brushed with streaks of orange and lavender. Nature was showing off, laying on a display that said ‘end of a stunning day’ in every language.

Aye, he loved it here.

The day had started grim, but now it was one of those rare lovely Scottish summer nights. The weather in Aberdeenshire was less fickle than on the west coast and in the Highlands, but rapid changes were part of life here, too.

It was getting late, and this stretch of the beach was almost empty. Connor had brought sandwiches because he remembered Kirsty’s fondness for an unfussy meal. Cheese and pickle with a touch of mustard, nothing that screamed try-hard. The two bottles of beer beside him were a local brew and mostly his emotional support drinks. He needed something to hold on to.

A soft sound pricked his ear, and he turned.

There she was, emerging from the path that snaked through the grassy dunes. Her hair glowed in the light of the low-lying sun and suddenly he was a teenager again, all jangly nerves and adrenaline. One look was all it took.

What if she tells me to fuck off? Wouldn’t blame her.

‘Bannerman, you brought out the big guns I see,’ she said and beamed.

Oh, that smile. That damn smile. Like the first cold beer on a scorching day. ‘Och, just some grub.’

‘You know, I missed this. Being able to go to the beach like that, five minutes from the house. It’s nice.’ Kirsty settled down on the blanket. Movements smooth but deliberate, as if she had to stifle involuntary reactions.

Connor flicked his gaze away from her, focusing on the clinking bottles. He cracked open a beer and offered it to her.

She took a leisurely nip. ‘Okay, let’s talk.’

His chest seized up. He’d forgotten how blunt she could be.

‘That’s why you summoned me here, right? To talk it out?’

‘Aye,’ he grumbled and necked two gulps. ‘Guess we have to.’ He wasn’t usually one for hesitation – not when it came to troubleshooting rigging issues or adjusting lifts on the fly – but with her, his certainty careened. They sat in stillness for a spell, lost in the view of the first daring star. Sirius, if he remembered it correctly.

Kirsty broke the quietude. ‘I never thought I’d be back here. Hanging out with you of all people.’ She traced a finger through the sand, drawing abstract swirls. With a sudden shift, her tone was serious. ‘What’s happening, Connor? What the hell is this?’

A forceful swallow worked his throat. He carefully searched for the right words that were nowhere to be found. ‘Don’t know. Thought I had it all figured out, but seeing you again… Was like no time passed. But it’s also new, different. We’re not the same people we were.’ He took another long swig, the cool liquid doing nothing to quench the heat within him.

‘No,’ she said. ‘No, we’re not. Because that would be extremely sad.’

She did it again. Deflecting with jokes. Hiding behind her sharp tongue. That was her MO. But not this time. It was in this moment that Connor realised he’d had about enough. He was ready to break in two. ‘Stop it, Freckles. Drop the fucking pretence.’

‘No idea what you’re talking about.’ She narrowed her eyes at him. ‘And you’re one to talk, Sir I’ve-got-it-all-figured-out.’

Fine, be that way.

But he wouldn’t let her off the hook. Connor held her gaze, unflinching. ‘Aye, you’re right. I don’t have a damn clue.’ He raked a hand through his hair. ‘But I know that seeing you again, kissing you like that…it’s stirred up something. And I can’t keep it in.’ The words tumbled out and he let them.

‘Stirred up something? Like a sea storm or more of a tempest in a teapot?’

It was her way, always poking fun at the insecurity and darkness to keep it at bay.

But it was there, the darkness.

The subtle dance of the evening breeze played with her hair, red strands flickering like flames. The vanishing sunset highlighted the dusting of freckles across her collarbone and shoulders. Why did she have to be so gut-wrenchingly beautiful? With the sharper contours and the faint lines around her sky-blue eyes, near invisible gentle wrinkles.

The regret hit him so hard he almost dropped his beer. He should have been with her, every day, watching those lines appear. Creating new ones by making her laugh on purpose. They should’ve spent their adult lives together.

And it was his fault they hadn’t.

‘Why did you never marry?’ she asked abruptly, her tone cautious and curious.

A left-field question if ever there was one. It took him a second to collect himself. ‘I did.’

‘Oh? Oh. You did?’ Her voice was as light as the froth atop her bottle, but Connor noticed the strained undercurrent. ‘I didn’t see a ring, so I assumed…’

‘Aye. Was a mistake. Didn’t last long.’ He sensed the pressure of her gaze, as if she were trying to read every chapter of his life since they’d parted.

She peeled off the label of her lager. ‘Do you…want to talk about it?’

‘Not really. Guess I was trying to prove to myself and my parents that I could have a marriage. That I could lead a regular life with the wife and the bairns and all that.’ He scoffed. ‘I was wrong. Maybe that’s not for me.’ She didn’t prod, and he was grateful for it. ‘Part of me kept comparing every woman to you. And nobody – nobody – came close. So, after my divorce, I didn’t see the point to keep trying.’

Kirsty hugged her knees. ‘I’ve been there,’ she said, her gaze fixed on the lapping waves. ‘Trying to fit someone into a mould they weren’t meant to fill. Trying to fill so many wrong moulds myself.’

‘You and wrong moulds, Freckles?’

Her breath shook as she spoke. ‘I try to be a good daughter to my parents and keep failing. I tried to be a great writer, and I failed. I tried to be at home in London and…well, you get the gist.’ She hugged her knees tighter, putting her chin on top of them, and closed her eyes.

So she wasn’t happy. By now, he knew that it wasn’t all smooth sailing. But where did he fit in the equation? Was he a distraction, a bit of sentimentality? The question burned a gaping hole into his chest. He had to know. ‘Why did you kiss me that night?’

She didn’t answer immediately. With a few deep, shuddering inhales, her lashes grew damp. ‘I-I don’t know. Because I wanted to? Or perhaps I was just horny. That happens to girls, too.’ She stood up and strode towards the surf.

Connor put his bottle down and went after her.

Not off the hook .

‘Talk to me. Kirsty. Talk, goddammit!’

She halted but didn’t look at him; her shoulders set like ramparts against his questions. He caught up with her as she reached the water’s edge. ‘Why the fuck did you kiss me like that?’

When she turned to face him, her cheeks were wet with tears. ‘Because you’re making me feel seen and alive and vulnerable and at home. And… How dare you?’

‘Freckles, I—’

‘No, shut up! I hate feeling like this. So…powerless and scared. My life is a huge pile of crap and the last thing I need is getting involved with someone who doesn’t give a shite!’ Her eyes were red and flashed with anger.

He lay a palm against her hot cheek. ‘What on earth makes you think I don’t give a shite?’

She pushed his arm away. ‘Because that’s what you do, Connor. You act all nice and trustworthy and then you stab me in the back!’

This was her teenage self speaking. The wounded girl was clawing her way out of the cage. Good. That’s where he wanted her. Out in the open, not hiding behind sarcasm and cynicism.

Her shoulders heaved with each breath, her defiance as palpable as the salt in the air. The muscles in his jaw tightened, the way they did before a storm broke. ‘I don’t act,’ he said. ‘Not about this. Not about us.’

‘There is no us,’ she spat out, but her voice wavered.

He took a step closer and touched her shoulder.

‘No!’ She slapped her hand against his arm.

Come out, wounded girl. Come out so I can hold you.

‘Freckles. It’s me.’

Her face was scrunched in hurt and fear. ‘I know!’

‘I’m always here,’ he said calmly.

‘No! No, you’re not!’ She punched him in the chest with her small fist. ‘You’re leaving for your oil rig and you…you…’ And then she couldn’t hold it back any longer. ‘Why did you break my heart? Why did you have to remind me I still have one? I hate you!’ she yelled, her voice cracking.

‘You don’t,’ he said quietly, put his hands around her waist, and pulled her in a little. ‘I know you.’

‘No. Nobody knows me. You don’t, nobody in London does, even my own parents have no idea who I am! Least of all myself!’ She slapped his torso again.

‘Aye, give me your rage. I deserve it,’ he ground out. ‘I’m a big boy, I can take it.’

And she did. She unleashed her anger and hurt onto him, hands pummelling his chest. ‘This isn’t fair. What am I gonna do with my da? He’s gonna… How… It’s not fair! It’s not… It’s… I…’

Connor let her rail against him as if he were every piece of crap life had thrown at her. She needed this release, and he was here for it. ‘That’s it, Freckles. Give it to me. Until there’s nothing left.’

When her fury dwindled to exhausted sobs, he adjusted his hold on her, pulling her flush against his chest. ‘It’s awright,’ he murmured against her silky hair, ‘I’m here.’

She had worked through her walls. He felt it in the way she melted into his embrace, all soft and limbless. Right now, it was all there. She was all there. His girl. The weight of her pain and the warmth of her body against his own, her breath hitching as she sought control over the tears. ‘Shhh…I’ve got you. I’m here.’

‘But why, Connor? Why are you still here? After… Just tell me why.’

He lifted her chin with two fingers, leaning in so their eyes met. ‘Because I told you, I’ll always be here. And because I’m the idiot who’s been loving you since we were twelve.’

As she looked up to him, red-faced and puffy, Kirsty was vulnerable. She rested her forehead against his mouth, a gesture more tender or touching than any kiss. This was surrender. To her own heart, to him.

His pulse quickened, and his chest swelled. ‘Kirsty,’ he whispered as he took her face in both hands. The way her name rested on his tongue…like a promise he’d been waiting years to keep. ‘I’m not going anywhere if you don’t want me to.’

‘I don’t want you to.’ Her voice was a muffled whisper.

‘No? Should I stay?’

‘Yes, please stay.’

‘Do you want me to kiss you?’

‘Yeah.’

His thumb traced the line of her upper lip, where hundreds of tiny freckles blended into the pink. Swollen from crying. Her breath was a sweet, trembling rhythm in the quiet space between them. By now the sky was streaked with purple and the last gasp of daylight.

This right here was eternity.

And then, with all the time in the world, he lowered his mouth to hers. Heart roaring in his chest, he traced her lip with the tip of his tongue. A question. Her eyes drifted shut in response.She tasted like salt and it only deepened the intense surge of protectiveness within him.

I swear I’ll never hurt you again. Nobody ever hurts you again.

Did he think or whisper it? He couldn’t tell. Didn’t matter. Nothing but the feeling of her lips yielding beneath his.

My girl. My fierce, fragile girl.

And he felt everything. Everything. The soft crush of her chest against his, the heat radiating through the thin fabric separating their skin, his heart spinning in his ribcage, his hard cock stretching his jeans. But mostly he felt how every barrier between them crumbled.

Their kiss deepened, as if they were both drawing sustenance from it.Her fingers tousled the curls at the nape of his neck, tugging him closer. ‘Connor,’ she moaned into his mouth, seeking more, seeking him. ‘Will you please – please – sleep with me?’

God. Oh, holy fucking God. There was no going back now.

With a coarse groan, he seized her whole mouth. He wanted to feel and taste all of her. Dissolve into her. His hands skated along the edge of her top, craving the touch of her skin against his. And she pushed against his hardness. Needy. She needed him. Wanted him. Him .

The restraint holding on by a thread tore. He grabbed her wrist, pulled her over to the blanket, kissed her again, hungry and deep, and they sank onto the wool. ‘Do you mind if someone sees us? Because I sure as fuck don’t.’

‘There’s nobody here. And no, I don’t,’ she said in a hum and skimmed her palms over his pecs, her fingers tracing the lines of muscle that tensed beneath her touch – and deeper.

‘You’re rock solid,’ she breathed.

‘For you.’ Connor flipped them so she was underneath him, her back flat against the blanket.

‘Tell me,’ she gasped as his lips found their way back to hers. ‘Tell me you’ve missed me.’

‘Fuck. I’ve missed you, Freckles,’ he scratched out. ‘Every damn day, every minute. I missed you. I had no heart without you.’

‘Show me,’ she sighed against his mouth.‘Show me how much.’

He slid his hand under the hem of her trousers, into her briefs. ‘Do you want me to touch you there?’

She nodded and a ruby tinge washed over her features. So fucking gorgeous. His cock twitched, desperate to be free and inside her. Not now, though; he wanted this to last. He wanted – he needed – her forgiveness, and they weren’t there yet. ‘Say it, Freckles. Say that you want me to touch you.’

She looked at him, pupils wide and dark, chest heaving. ‘That’s not all…I want…but it’s…a good start,’ she panted.

‘No. Say it.’ He traced the shape of her sex, feeling how soaked the fabric was.

She lowered her eyelids. ‘I want you to touch me, Connor.’

His heart expanded. ‘Good.’

He lay down beside her, nudged the cotton aside, and let a digit slip into her heat. First the tip, then all of it. She was so silky, so soft. The second one made her gasp. Connor pumped in and out. Slowly, tenderly, deeply. Taking it all in. She moaned and bit her bottom lip, eyes screwed shut in lust. She was so goddamn wet. Her slickness coated his fingers, and Connor groaned low in his throat. He’d missed this. Missed how she felt, how she reacted. It was like coming home and he never wanted to leave again.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

But he couldn’t say it. It would scare her away. And he didn’t have the right to those words anymore. It was his own fault.

So he showed her instead.

He cradled the back of her head and let his thumb circle her swollen clit. The tip of his nose almost touched hers. ‘Look at me.’

‘Mhm, Connor… I…’ She was grinding against the friction of his fingers.

‘Look at me, Kirsty.’

She did, eyes hazy and hungry.

‘Keep looking at me while I make you come.’ And with that he picked up the pace. She was so responsive. He loved it. He loved her . Fuck, he loved her so much he couldn’t breathe.

Not a word .

Her hips bucked toward him, riding the waves of pleasure he created. And she held his gaze. It was all there – the unspoken words, the history, the hurt, the lust.

The love?

He could only hope so.

She panted faster, the sounds of the sea melding with her gasps. Her mouth formed an O as she let out a throaty moan. The tension coiled tighter in her, he felt it, like a spring wound up to its breaking point. Her fingers dug into the sand. She was getting there. He knew. He knew her.

Now.

‘Kirsty…do you forgive me?’

She kept pushing her hips against his hand, needy and wild, and nodded, her gaze still holding his. Losing herself. Finding herself. With him.

He had to contain a sob while his fingers worked her hard and fast. ‘Say it. I need to hear it. I need… Please.’

‘Yes! I-I f-for-…forgive you…Connor… Yes! Yes! Oh God… OH FUCK.’

She came – shaking, shivering, dissolving. Coming apart and being put back together by his hand.

And then they were whole again.

He kissed her chin, the corners of her mouth, resting his hand on her mound while she caught her breath. This incredible woman.

‘Connor…that was a lovely start,’ she whispered eventually, starry-eyed and rosy-cheeked and in full possession of his heart, as she’d always been. ‘Now…your place or yours?’