Page 100 of Far

I seek his attention, his challenge, the fire that sparks whenever we’re together. That’s why I’ve been walking to the IT Department more than ever, coming up with stupid reasons like I need a new access card or my keyboard is broken. The face Jake was giving me when it worked just fine. Embarrassing, and it wasn’t even worth it because Connor wasn’t in.

Connor walks out into the hallway, typing on his phone.

What is he up to? Is he gonna meet someone? Sophie?

He pauses for a moment, glancing over his shoulder, and I duck behind a pillar. The footsteps resume and fade.

I take a peek around the corner. There’s no sign of him. He’s gone.

I’m really not good at this.

My shoulders slump, and I start to head back to the ballroom—only to collide with a solid chest. I peer up into Connor’s eyes, dark and inscrutable. He braces one hand on the stone beside my head, the other snaking around my waist.

“Following me, Blue?” His breath feathers over my neck.

I swallow hard. “No, I wasn’t—I mean, I was just—”

“Naughty girl. I think I’ll have to punish those lying lips of yours.”

“We agreed to keep things professional.”

“You agreed. I never promised that.”

“You asked for it.”

“We both know there’s nothing professional about this.”

“Connor, we can’t.” I place my hands on his chest, intending to push him away, but my treacherous fingers curl into his shirt instead, holding him close.

Whatever this is between us, it isn’t love. It’s madness.

“I missed you.” He kisses me, slow and deep, and I let myself drown in the feel of his lips moving against mine.

All thoughts of propriety flee my mind. There is only Connor, only this moment, this kiss that steals my breath and ignites my blood.

For now, it’s enough.

He pins me in place with his body. I can feel the shape and size of him, and I want nothing more than to have him insideme, filling me, taking me to the brink, and shoving me over. A moan slips out at the thought.

The memory of that night with Chris flickers before me but is quickly eclipsed by the reality of Connor.

Of this.

My fingers tangling in his hair, and my nails scraping his scalp. He groans, the sound reverberating against my mouth.

The kiss turns desperate and frantic, all tongues, teeth, and panting breaths. He hitches my leg around his hip, rocking against me in a mimicry of sex that leaves me aching for more. For all of him, in a way, I’ve never ached for anyone before.

A door opens at the end of the hall, snapping me back to my senses.

I shove at his chest. “Stop. Someone’s coming!”

He stills against me, chest heaving. “You don’t want anybody to know?”

“Here you are. Be right back,” Lil’s voice calls out from down the hallway.

The footsteps draw closer.

How do I explain that I’m dry-humping the guy who didn’t want me? Or does he? I don’t know anymore.

---