"So, are you going to tell us what that was all about, or..." Ana opens my brand new fridge as if she's expecting to find something, but when she realizes it's empty, a frown falls onto her face. "I didn't think Connor Holden would ever get tied down."

I lean forward to rest my elbows on the island, hating the way my heart is still hammering away from just the mere touch of Connor's fingers. No matter how hard I try to forget, my brain won't shut off our kiss from two days ago, and the second his fingers touched my skin today, they elicited the same response as his lips. How is that even possible?

"It's a good thing he's not tied down then," I add, "because nothing is happening between us. I agreed to go on a date with him if he and the boys helped me move in. That's all it is."

Esme finally drags her attention away from the door the boys vanished from only five minutes earlier. "How tiring is it to continue lying? Your cheeks are redder than a tomato, Aria. Just admit you enjoyed sleeping with him and give him a chance. He's clearly interested in getting to know you more."

Ana lets out a sound mixed between a squeal and a gasp. "It all makes so much sense now. I get why you're so hung up on him. Back in high school, I was only a sophomore, but I would overhear Esme's friends talking about how good he was in bed. However, him being so hung up on you is strange behavior."

Her sister tries to elbow her in the side discreetly, but the yelp Ana releases can be heard for miles. "Not because there's anything wrong with you," she quickly adds. "For him to be hung up on anyone is strange. He's Connor Holden, you know? His reputation was worshipped back in the day, and now that he plays professional hockey? That man could play the field for the rest of his life if he wanted."

The silent rage filling my veins is enough to knock me off kilter. I'm not used to jealousy, but with Connor, I can't seem to help myself. Mainly because if his reputation is that well-known, I'm obviously not the only woman to have a mind-blowing night with the famous center. An insane part of me thought our night together was special, but that's probably what all of the women he slept with think. After a night with Connor, I wouldn't be surprised if they tried to plan a wedding right there on the spot.

"So, tell me." Ana leans forward on the opposite side of the island, wiggling her eyebrows. "Is his dick really as big as everyone says?"

"Ana!" Esme elbows her in the side again, glaring at her. "That's inappropriate. You don't have to answer that, Aria."

The laugh that bubbles out of me is uncontrollable, though, and as soon as the sound escapes my mouth, a wave of sadness follows. How long has it been since we did this? When we used to talk about boys together while eating popcorn and watching trashy movies? Esme was always the prude, and Ana and I would say the filthiest things that came to mind until her cheeks turned pink and her jaw hung open.

Silence falls between us as if everyone is remembering the same memory. If I could go back in time and change that night so things could return to normal, I would. But I'll never forgive myself, and I won't let myself enjoy another girl's night out ever again.

"Didn't he try to sleep with you?" I ask, changing the subject. "If you're so curious, why didn't you take him up on the offer?"

She rolls her eyes and jabs a thumb at Esme. "My sister used to have a fling with Connor's brother, Everett. She didn't want things to get too confusing if I started sleeping with Connor. I took one for the team."

"Everett?" Now my mouth is gaping open at my best friend. "The one with all the tattoos?"

"He never used to have those," Esme replies, "but yes, that's him."

How...

God, so many questions run through my mind. Why would sweet, innocent Esme have a fling with someone? And why was I never informed about this? Ever since we were kids, she's talked about her dream wedding. She's a romantic at heart, and her expectations are always set far too high. A fling isn't in her vocabulary.

"I tried it out," she says, seeming to read my mind. "In the long run, it wasn't for me. He never became important enough for me to tell you about, and things between us then were..."

She doesn't have to finish her sentence. I get it. The months following my sister's death were traumatic, and before Esme's last-ditch effort to save our friendship by taking me to The Maldives, we were already growing apart. No matter what she did, she knew I'd always blame myself for my sister's death, and yet she's still here, trying to save this friendship years later. Never giving up.

I didn't deserve my sister, and I don't deserve her either.

***

Several hours later, after the hockey game ended, I should be heading home to finish unpacking, but instead, I'm outside the locker room waiting for Connor.

Don't ask me why, because I couldn't tell you. But the conversation with Esme and Ana earlier lingered on my mind throughout the game, and ultimately, Ana is right. Connor could play the field for his entire life if he wanted, yet he's interested in getting to know me. I could keep trying to deny the rolling waves of lust I have for him or the way I seem to enjoy running my fingers through his curls, but just as Esme predicted, I'm tired of fighting it.

So, maybe I just wanted to see him. I'm accepting that.

The rest of the team left over an hour ago, but he hasn't appeared yet. He always leaves this side of the arena after a home game. However, because they won due to his winning goal, the press conferences tend to take longer than usual.

And it bothers me that I've seemed to memorize his schedule already.

Finally, after another ten minutes, Connor exits the locker room freshly showered, his duffle bag slung over a broad shoulder. His eyes brighten when he notices me, a lazy grin falling on his face. "You couldn't wait to see me for our date tomorrow?"

I roll my eyes, but my lips tilt into a grin. "Arrogant as ever. Maybe I was just leaving myself."

Connor glances around, calling my bluff. "Everyone else left hours ago, baby." My heart kicks up speed when he closes the distance between us, setting his duffle bag on the ground and stripping the camera bag from my shoulder to place beside it. He's so close that my breasts are almost pressed against his t-shirt. "Face it. You missed me."

"What makes you so certain of that?" My voice is breathless when one large hand of his lands on my hip, the other placed on the concrete wall next to my head. In seconds, my brain is foggy, and my judgment is clouded. He could do anything to me right now and I wouldn't complain.

The truth is, being around Connor awakens the side of me I've kept locked away for so long—the dangerous, carefree, flirtatious woman I grew to hate. But Connor has a way of making me yearn for it rather than loathe it.

"For starters, you're outside the locker room hours past when you're supposed to go home." His thumb pushes beneath my jersey, rubbing slow, torturous circles on the skin above the band of my leggings. When I can't find the words to speak, he asks, "How long are you going to fight this, Aria?"

"Fight what?" I gasp. He bends his head down to brush his nose against my collarbone. Instinctively, my head lolls to the side, allowing him access to the curve of my neck. I can feel him smile against my skin.

"Admit that you want me just as much as I want you," he says in a velvety smooth voice that almost sounds like a song.

"I-I don't want you in...in that way," I finish, heart hammering.

"Then in what way do you want me, Aria? I need you to say it."

I can't speak. My body seems paralyzed from the feeling of my chest pressed against his. My nipples are throbbing against his t-shirt, and from the thin material of it, I know he can feel them.

"Want to know what I think?" Connor's voice grows deeper. A rich, velvety tone that carries the faintest hint of spice. "You want me to make you come right now. Am I right or wrong?"

Oh, god. The whimper that comes out is all he needs to pull the band of my leggings back with two fingers. I'm barely able to peek up at him, but when I do, I'm met with an expression laced with nothing but satisfaction. A thick brow of his is raised, waiting for my answer.

"I can see your pulse racing." He bends down, flicking his tongue against the side of my neck. I shamelessly buck my hips into his, seeking friction he isn't giving me yet. "And if I were to place a bet, I'd assume you're dripping wet for me, aren't you?"

"Please," I beg.

He grins, running his fingers above the band of my panties. "Here? In the middle of the hallway? Where we're conveniently just out of sight from any cameras? I didn't think you were such a dirty girl," he purrs. The grit in his voice sends a shockwave of pleasure directly between my thighs. "I told you I was going to take this slow with you, did I not?"

"Connor," I whisper his name with a sense of urgency. Desperation.

He slips his hand into the band of my leggings, keeping his free hand braced on the wall beside my head, and as soon as he cups me over my underwear, holding my pussy that is quite literally throbbing against his fingers, the smile fades from his face, replaced with an urgency and desperation of his own.

"Fuck," he mutters, running his middle finger along the slit. Even without touching my bare skin, I know he can feel the dampness over my underwear. I can feel it. "I did say I was going to take this slow, but I also can't seem to ever say no to you, can I? You've got me wrapped around your damn finger, Aria."

The teasing has reached an all-time high. My eyes narrow, and that flirtatious, dare-devil Aria decides to make a reappearance. "And right now, I want to be wrapped around your damn finger, Connor. So, please, make me come."

Surprise flickers across his face until it fades into one of what seems to be pride. "Well, since you asked so nicely..." Moving my panties to the side, he sinks his middle finger into me, and the pure size of it is enough to stretch me. My back arches, pushing my breasts into his shirt, and the second my eyes meet his, I wish they hadn't.

Connor stares at me in a way as if he's seeing me. The real me. No masks, no facades, just...me. Judging by how his eyes soften, scanning every inch of my face, I get the sense that I'm seeing the real him, too.

His eyebrows furrow together as he continues studying me, gliding his fingers against my walls to learn how I enjoy it. He's not dirty talking anymore, rendered speechless as he moves his gaze from my eyes to my nose, settling on my lips...

All of this is too intimate. Too intense. The emotions slamming into my chest are enough to send me to my knees, and pure, unrelenting panic races up my spine until—

Connor spins me around so my stomach is against the wall, sliding another finger into my soaking wet pussy. He pumps in and out, wrapping an arm around my waist to hold me tightly to his body. Could he sense my fear?

"Look at what a naughty girl you are, Aria. Getting fingered in a hallway we could be caught in at any given moment." Gone is the gentle, tentative Connor. Whatever feelings he had seconds ago have vanished, and now he's... He's giving me what I want. What I can handle.

He nips at the flesh beneath my ear, and the wave of pleasure that hits me is undeniable. He remembered my sensitive spot from all those years ago. "Do you like getting filled by my fingers?"

I nod, throwing my head back against his shoulder as he continues to hold me upright. His thumb grazes my clit, and I don't recognize myself as I greedily grind against his hand, craving more friction. My pussy seems to remember what this man is capable of giving it, and his fingers aren't what it's wanting. "I think you're wet enough to take three," he hums. The minute a third slides into me, he moves the hand around my waist to clamp over my mouth, muffling my cry of bliss. "So greedy. Taking all of me."

His erection grazes against my backside, hard and heady through his sweatpants. I'm a horny mess when I grind against his cock, letting his fingers move inside of me at the same time. Connor's breaths grow heavy against my ear before his forehead falls onto my shoulder, his fingers picking up their speed as I grind the length of his shaft.

"You're close, aren't you?" He urges, voice strained.

A tight ball forms in my stomach from years of pent-up release and desire being denied the light of day. It burns its way through my channels, fighting to break the surface, and just like all those years ago, Connor has the ability to bring it back to life.

"That's right," he groans. "Be a good girl and soak my fingers right in this fucking hallway."

A shockwave of unrelenting ecstasy barrels its way through me. I shudder from the intensity of my release, riding Connor's fingers through another orgasm I'm only capable of receiving from him. I'm a wet, disgusting mess on his hand, unable to stop coming, but Connor fingers me through it, curling his fingers in a slow, coaxing manner to gather every ounce of me he can.

His hand is still covering my mouth, fingers buried inside of me when he whispers, "I know I've been telling you to stop drooling, baby, but truthfully, it might be my favorite expression on you yet."

When he releases his hand from my mouth, my drool is indeed covering his palm, but I'm too sated to be embarrassed. My knees feel like they're going to buckle at any given second.

Finally, I gain the courage to turn around, fixing the band of my leggings in place after he removes his fingers that are currently dripping—yes, dripping—from my orgasm. He grabs his duffle bag from the floor with one hand to sling it over his shoulder, then, with those green eyes of his locked on mine, he sticks all three fingers into his mouth to lick them clean. "Pick you up at eight tomorrow?" He asks once he's finished.

"I—" My mouth closes, too entranced by the action to think coherently. This man is a walking sex magnet with those wet curls sticking to his forehead, his lips wet from the taste of me. He just had his fingers inside of me, and now he's acting as if nothing happened.

Isn't that what I want though?

No attachments. I don't want this to become serious between us. Isn't that why he spun me around and fingered me from behind? But even now, regardless of whether or not he's wearing that cocky grin, his eyes speak more than words ever could. There's a concern there that wasn't evident before, but he's behaving in a way I'm comfortable with. I should be grateful.

We're keeping this casual.

For whatever reason, though, the way his eyes softened when he first sunk his finger into me won't leave my head.

Author's Note:

EARLY UPDATE!!!!!!

Um, as you can probably guess, I definitely couldn't hold this one back. 

Connor could fold me like a pretzel and I wouldn't complain at ALL. 

I wonder if we'll get his POV next chapter? HMM....

WHAT DID YOU GUYS THINK?!

I'M EXPECTING A LOT OF COMMENTS/VOTES ON THIS ONE.

And yes, there will still be an update on Monday!

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