“You shouldn’t have done that. I didn’t ask you to do that.”
Hurt and anger surge through me. “I didn’t need your permission,” I snap. “I know you’re innocent, and I’d spend every last dime I have to help you.” The admission came easily. I don’t think until I said it that even I realized the lengths to which I’d go to protect Connor.
His chest rises and falls once with a deep inhale. “You really don’t remember anything?”
“I don’t understand why. It’s just a big blank spot in my memory. One minute I was walking across the street and the next I was sitting in the ambulance.” I look at him, my eyes pleading. “What happened Connor?”
“You really don’t remember?” he asks, dumbfounded.
“I swear, I don’t. You don’t believe me?”
His gaze softens. “It’s better you don’t remember.”
“Please tell me,” I beg.
He doesn’t answer my request. Instead, he pivots. “You shouldn’t have wasted your money.”
Narrowing my eyes, I glare at him. “I’d gladly spend my money on a man that spent eight years in prison hiding a truth that should have been revealed a long time ago.”
His jaw tics and his eyes dart away. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Suddenly, I’m livid. He knows exactly what I mean. “Right,” I laugh with disdain. “You’re going to lie to me too?”
Connor says nothing but stuns me when he gently pulls my arm causing me to lean toward him. “I don’t want to.” He’s so close I can feel his breath on my face and my heart flutters when his gaze moves down to my mouth.
“Then don’t,” I plea in a soft whisper. “Let me help you.”
“You can’t,” he murmurs, his hooded eyes still trained on my mouth. “I’m trying to protect you.”
I can’t help darting my tongue out to lick my lips, not realizing how inviting that might look to him. Or maybe, subconsciously, I do know. Maybe I want him to see how badly I want him to kiss me. “I know you didn’t kill him, Connor.”
“You can’t remember anything. So you don’t know that,” he argues as his thumb moves back and forth, gently brushing against my arm. In a different setting, another moment, I’d be too lost in his touch to respond with an appropriate answer, but not today.
“Yes, I do!” I state loudly.
“You just don’t want to believe I’m capable of doing it, but I am. I’ve done it before Demi, and I don’t regret it.”
My heart is hammering in my chest. He just admitted to killing someone with no regrets. His words should terrify me, send me fleeing from my car, but I stay planted. And I plan to continue to do just that, until he says, “Blake wouldn’t have wanted . . . this.”
Narrowing my eyes, I tilt my head and ask, “This?” I know what he’s saying. He’s finally admitting there is something between us; acknowledging the elephant in the room. But even so, I’m going to force him to say it.
Connor finally meets my gaze, his dark eyes seeming pained. “This,” he says, quietly as he squeezes my arm gently.
I can’t help lashing out at him. “That didn’t stop you last time,” I argue. “If Dusty hadn’t pulled up that night . . . we . . . would’ve . . .”
“Would’ve what?” he challenges.
I glare at him. He thinks I won’t say it. But he’s wrong. “You would have taken me right there on that counter. You wanted me every bit as badly as I wanted you.”
He smirks a little. “You mean on the night you pretended not to remember?” His eyes feel like they’re burning mine he’s staring at me so intensely.
Okay. I lied about being blacked out, and he’s calling me out on it, again. He never believed me anyway, and I already owned my mistake so why are we rehashing this? So I don’t bother trying to explain why I lied. I just own it. “Yes, that night,” I answer.