Chapter 63: Drunken Confessions–1
Chapter 63: Drunken Confessions
(Connor’s POV)
I watched Olivia sleep, her face peaceful in the soft glow of the bedside lamp. She
looked so vulnerable, so different from the fiercely independent woman I knew her to
Just as I was about to leave her bedroom, she stirred, her honey–brown hair splaying
across the pillow. Her slender fingers suddenly reached out, catching my shirt sleeve
with surprising strength.
“Don’t go,” she murmured, her voice thick with sleep and lingering intoxication. “Tell
me a… Grey…”
I froze, ice flooding my veins. Had she just called out for Grey? Ethan Grey?
My jaw clenched involuntarily, jealousy flaring hot and sharp through my chest. After everything that man had put her through, after the way he’d treated her as a replacement for his first love, she was still calling his name in her sleep?
“Liv,” I said, my voice coming out rougher than intended. “What did you say?”
She tugged at my sleeve again, her amber eyes fluttering open briefly before closing again. “Story,” she mumbled more clearly. “Tell me a story… like when we were little…”
Relief washed through me like a physical force. Not “Grey” but a request for a story–a
bedtime ritual from our childhood. I felt a smile tugging at my lips, amusement
replacing the sharp sting of jealousy.
“You want a bedtime story?” I asked softly, brushing a strand of hair from her flushed
cheek.
She nodded sleepily, her grip on my sleeve not loosening. “Like before…”
My heart swelled with tenderness. Even drunk, she remembered our shared past-
how I’d read to her when we were young, during her visits to Riverdale.
I carefully lifted her into my arms, cradling her against my chest. Her honey–brown hair cascaded over my arm as I carried her toward the bathroom. She needed to
< Chapter 63 Drunken Conf.
clean up before properly going to bed.
“Con?” she murmured against my neck, her breath warm against my skin.
+8 Points >
“I’m here,” I assured her, my voice low and soothing. “Let’s get you cleaned up first, then I’ll tell you a story.”
She nodded drowsily, her head nestling trustingly against my shoulder. The simple gesture of faith touched something deep within me, awakening every protective instinct I possessed.
The bathroom light seemed harsh after the dimness of the bedroom. I set Olivia
down carefully on the closed toilet lid, keeping one hand on her shoulder to steady
her as I turned on the shower.
“Can you manage?” I asked, testing the water temperature with my free hand.
She blinked up at me, her amber eyes unfocused. “Don’t think so,” she admitted with a
small, embarrassed laugh.
I swallowed hard, my wolf stirring restlessly within me. This wasn’t how I’d imagined
essing her for the first time, but her wellbeing came first. Always.
nfinite gentleness, I helped her out of her clothes, my touch clinical and
ectful despite my wolf’s possessive growls. I averted my eyes as much as
possible, preserving her dignity even in her vulnerable state.
The shower was quick and efficient. I kept her steady with one arm while washing her
hair with my free hand, the familiar scent of her honey–almond shampoo filling the
steamy bathroom.
“You’re good at this,” she murmured as I wrapped her in a fluffy towel afterward.
“I’ve had practice,” I replied softly, thinking of the times I’d cared for pack members
after injuries or during illness.
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