Chapter 18

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Holly gave Connor her most innocent smile, but his gaze was hard, and she knew he wasn’t going to let her get away with flippant avoidance. He’d witnessed her secret, and not just any secret, but the world-shattering kind that could end the simplicity of the lives she and her ancestors had built and fiercely guarded over generations.

He had confirmation now that she wasn’t normal, but he still didn’t know what she was. Not yet. Hopefully, not ever.

Her gaze fell to her hands in her lap. Her fingers were still cold, and her pond-soaked hair was keeping her shoulders damp. When the post struck her, it had been horrifying, the weight of it dragging her beneath the surface before she could catch her breath. She’d swallowed water, and then the dark, frigid liquid had slithered over her skin and swallowed her . She’d been disoriented and frightened, and then a strong hand had wrapped around her arm, and she’d thought: Connor . And she’d just known she was going to be okay.

He’d saved her life. He’d dragged her from the silted bottom of the pond and then scooped her up like he had the night she’d had a migraine. When he’d laid her on the grass and hovered over her, panicked and brushing hair from her face, she’d nearly lost her breath again.

She was balancing on a dangerous precipice: she wanted Connor Grimm in a way that defied all sense. She knew how dangerous he was to her family, how dog determined he was to uncover the truth about them, and how temporarily he would be in her life.

And yet this inconvenient attraction wasn’t going away. Her mission tonight had been a bust. There had been several cute, accomplished men at the party, and not a single one had made her heart beat faster or her stomach flutter. No one’s gray eyes had looked at her as if they could slip beneath her skin and see straight into her soul. No one had intrigued her with single-minded intensity or intelligent, open curiosity. Why did it have to be him? Why did he have to be the one who invaded her every thought and made her break out in chills by simply being near?

More importantly, what was she going to do about it?

Was it possible to sleep with Connor Grimm and still keep her deepest self hidden? She wasn’t worried about falling in love with him—she’d have to be an idiot to fall in love with a man who was leaving in a few weeks, and Holly liked to think she wasn’t an idiot. She was worried she might reveal more of her family secret than she intended, like she had tonight.

He’d seen her. He knew she was something more . He knew, on a very minimal level, what she could do.

If history had it right, that should scare the shit out of him. Maybe she’d already solved her attraction problem by frightening him off.

They drove in silence, the tension between them thickening with every turn of the wheel, and when he pulled into her driveway, Holly sighed with relief.

The truck had barely come to a stop when Holly released her seat belt and shoved open the door. “Thanks, Connor!” she yelled as she sprinted to the porch.

She was about to twist the doorknob when he spun her around to face him, his broad silhouette backlit by the porch light. Rain pelted behind him, dripping off the eaves and battering the blue hydrangeas.

“What are you, Holly?” He was so close she could feel the heat of his body and smell the pond water and pine on him. He pressed his palm against the door over her head, caging her in a way that made her knees weak.

Holly’s heart was pounding so hard it almost drowned out the sounds of the rain. She licked her lips nervously. This man would see through a lie, and so she said the only thing she could. “I’m different.”

His eyes narrowed. “A witch.”

“No.”

“You control the weather.”

Holly struggled with what to tell him. He wasn’t stupid; he’d seen what he’d seen, but that didn’t mean she had to admit to more than necessary. She took a deep breath, and for the first time in her life shared a sliver of her secret with another person. “Some.”

He was silent, his gaze so intent, so probing, that she nearly quailed beneath it.

“I, um, I understand if that frightens you—”

“Shut up.” His lips met hers with all the pent-up frustration they’d both been feeling, his tongue running over the seam of her mouth and demanding entrance. She obliged, and their tongues tangled with such desperation, such depth, that it was hard to tell where she ended and he began.

He pulled back for the barest moment. “Yes!” she breathed.

Then his mouth was on hers again, and when he pushed her against the door, she thrilled to her toes. His thigh wedged between her legs, and he deliberately pressed up against her, drawing a moan from her that he swallowed with his mouth. She ran her fingers through the silky strands at the back of his head and dragged her palm to his cheek, the rough stubble of his unshaven beard scraping her skin. How would that rough rasp feel in more sensitive areas?

She trembled with need at the thought, but he must’ve mistaken it for a chill because he reluctantly drew back and said, “We need to get you warm.”

“I thought that’s what you were doing?”

His fingers flexed around her waist, and she could tell he was battling the desire to push her through the door and strip her down on the couch. She cupped the side of his neck, and before she could issue an invitation to do just that, he said, “You need a hot shower.”

She felt for the knob behind her and opened the door with one hand while reaching for him with the other. She tugged him over the threshold and said quietly, “So do you.”

He followed her upstairs to the shared bathroom, and when she would have pulled him in with her, he braced his hands on the doorframe and shook his head slowly, his eyes raking over her in a way that made her feel like he had X-ray vision, and he was seeing her naked beneath the bagging shirt and sweatpants. Her body hummed in response.

“If I get in that shower with you,” he said through clenched teeth, “I have a pretty good idea of what we’re going to do, and I’m not going to do those things with your aunts sleeping two doors down.”

Holly tilted her head, drinking in the way his eyes darkened as they ran over the T-shirt clinging to her breasts. “Why not?”

He leaned in and said softly by her temple, “Because when we do those things— if we do those things—I plan on making you noisy.”

Holly clenched her thighs together and was saved from having to respond by the gentle closing of the door.

She showered quickly, washing the pond water out of her hair and off her skin with her berry-and-mint-scented shampoo. The water was scalding, but the chill she felt was bone-deep. She didn’t want to take too long, though, because at least she had been in dry clothes. Connor had been soaking wet the entire way back, and still was.

She dried off with a fluffy pink towel and wrapped it around her breasts, leaving his sweatpants in the bathroom for him. When she stepped into the hallway, it was empty. She found him in her room, studying the collage of black-and-white photos of the farm over the years.

“You have a whole history here,” he said as she entered. His eyes swept over her, from her wet hair to the towel tucked around her body, and then down to her bare toes.

Holly stood beside him and traced her fingertip over one of the photos. It was a snapshot of a woman holding an apple in her palm. She’d lifted it so that it blocked out the low sun, allowing the rays to bend around the apple as if it were a gift from the angels. “Sometimes you’re just born into the right life.”

He inhaled but didn’t speak.

“I left your clothes in the bathroom. The T-shirt is a little damp from my hair, but you can’t put that back on,” she said, gesturing to his wet shirt. “There’s a fresh towel on the sink.”

He turned and strode out without saying another word, and Holly quickly dressed in a pair of leggings and a thin tank top. She didn’t bother with a bra, and she didn’t particularly mind that the peaks of her nipples were showing through the fabric. Connor struggling with his self-control was one of the sexiest things she’d ever seen. It made her feel powerful in a way that had nothing to do with what she was, and that was a new and intoxicating feeling.

Holly pressed her palms to her cheeks. So much for writing a new narrative. She was seriously in lust with the man, and there was no point in denying it any longer.

Connor returned with warp speed—it always amazed her how quickly men showered and dressed—and the minute he entered, his eyes fell to her chest.

“You’re trying to kill me.”

“It’s a sin to wear a bra past seven PM .”

“I fully agree. I hung my wet clothes in the bathroom to dry. I’ll take them with me when I leave. I don’t want you to have to answer questions from your aunts and sisters in the morning.”

Holly shrugged. “They’re going to ask questions anyway the moment Missy wakes up and starts yapping. Thank you, by the way. For showing up at the right time. For … for everything.”

For not being afraid of her.

He paced in her small room, running his hands over her things and filling her space with his presence. “I don’t know if I believe in that.”

“Believe in what?”

He pulled out her desk chair and sat, dwarfing the white-painted furniture with his size. “Right place, right time. It happens occasionally, but I didn’t plan on interviewing my witness tonight. He called and said he had to work tomorrow, so it had to be tonight.”

“Lucky for me.”

Connor scrubbed his hand down his face. “What are we doing, Holly?”

She sat on the bed across from him, their knees nearly touching. “What do you mean?”

His gaze was so intense that she squirmed. “What do you want from me?”

“I want you stop investigating my family.”

He turned away for a moment, avoiding her eyes. “I don’t mean professionally. I mean what do you want from me ? I’m not boyfriend material, but I think you know that. I’m leaving in a few weeks, and I won’t be back.”

She hated the way her heart sank at those words. In a very short time, she’d grown accustomed to running into him at every turn, to seeing him each morning. Of course he was leaving. She had never once doubted that. So why did it feel so shitty to hear it?

Many women in her position would protect their hearts and avoid further entanglement, but what was the point of living if you didn’t live because you were always afraid of being hurt?

If only he weren’t on that dammed TV show! If she slept with him and he exposed her family’s greatest secret, could she live with herself after? Especially if she was responsible for giving him that knowledge? He’d confirmed tonight that she and her family were different—or supernatural, as he would put it—and she was terrified that he wouldn’t rest until he knew everything.

Holly nibbled on her lower lip as she weighed her intense desire for this man against the primal need to protect her family. The smart choice was to walk away. The Celestes had a contract with Connor’s production company, so he was there to stay regardless, but if she avoided him, froze him out, she might stand a chance at keeping herself in check. Because Holly knew Connor hadn’t chosen this location for just a ghost story. He was at their apple farm for more.

He was there for them .

She took a fortifying breath. “I don’t want anything from you. I think we should cool it.”

His expression was flat. “Because of what I saw tonight?”

“Like you said, you’re leaving in a few weeks. We have to work with each other in that time, so it’s best if we keep things professional. That way there won’t be any hard feelings when you go.”

“You’re pulling away because you’re afraid of what you’ll reveal about yourself.”

She rubbed her temples. “You don’t understand.”

“Help me understand.”

“Some things are best kept secret.”

“I disagree.”

“Then we’re at an impasse.”

Connor stood. “It’s not what I want, but I respect your decision.”

The next words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. “What do you want?”

He answered without hesitation. “I want to strip you out of your clothes and kiss every inch of your skin.” His gaze fell to her thighs. “I want to taste you. I want to hear you when you come. I want to learn what makes you hot, and I want to see how fast I can get you there, and after that I want to see how long I can take getting you there. I want to know your body like I know my own, and then I want to spread your legs and bury myself inside you until I forget my own fucking name.”

Holly’s jaw dropped, and she thought she might have gone completely liquid inside. Every nerve ending felt sensitive and tingly, as if he’d stroked her with his hands instead of his words.

Connor strode to the door. He turned at the frame and said softly, “If you change your mind, you should know that when it comes to you and me, I don’t give a shit what you are, Holly; I only care who you are.”