Page 125 of Far

Her head rises in surprise as she spots me. “Connor? What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“I’m here with my friends.” She straightens her posture as if I’ve accused her of something. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Feisty when you’re drunk, aren’t you? Although I can’t say I mind. You’re rather adorable like this.”

“Shut up. I’m not adorable.” She blushes.

We’re so close now that I can feel her breath mingling with mine and see the desire darkening her eyes. It takes all my willpower not to close those last few millimeters between us.

I lean in slightly, my hand curving around the back of her neck. Our bodies are nearly touching, the air shimmering with pent-up need. I want nothing more than to kiss her senseless right here.

“No? Then what would you call this pretty blush?” I trail a finger along her cheek.

My touch elicits a sharp intake of breath, her skin blooming with heat under my fingertips. The effect I have on her is intoxicating.

I drop my voice lower, unable to resist teasing her a little more. “Did you come to see me?”

“I—We came to see Elijah.”

“Elijah, huh? What business do you have with him?”

“It’s Gemma’s business, not mine.”

“Pitty. I would have loved you to be here for me.”

“If you ever would have let me in, I might be here for you. Pathetic that I didn’t even know where the man I love lives.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, wishing I could make this all go away. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Yes, I do. I’m in love with you. And I know you feel the same. You can deny it all you want, but I know and see the way you look at me.”

At that moment, I freeze. Every muscle, nerve, and fiber of my being is taut with the weight of her confession. Love? She said it again like she is so sure of it. But is she? Really?

I surge forward and crush my lips to hers in a searing kiss. I grip her hips, bringing our bodies together as I pour all my anguish and regret into that kiss, wishing it could say what my words cannot. Mary melts into me with a soft whimper.

“Does this mean we’re fine again?” she asks.

My throat tightens.

I want nothing more than for us to be fine. I want to tell her everything. That I am Chris. That she’s the only one whomakes me feel this unraveled. That the very thought of losing her makes my chest constrict with panic. But the words stick in my throat, viscous and choking.

So instead, I kiss her again, harder this time.

I back her up against the wall, pinning her there with the weight of my body as my hands roam freely over the lush curves. She arches into me with a soft moan, and I can’t help the desperate groan that escapes me.

This is how I’ll make her understand. With every caress, every ragged breath, I’ll show her the truth I can’t put into words. That she owns every fractured piece of my shattered soul.

When we break apart, chest heaving, she asks again. “So? Are we… fine?”

“Why do you even think I’m Chris? It can’t be solely based on what you saw. There was no problem earlier.”

“Elijah told me you went with him to the masquerade party where I met Chris. That without you, he wouldn’t have met Gem.”

Fucking Elijah. I close my eyes briefly. If I get my hands on him.

So she knows I was there that night, even if she doesn’t fully understand my role in it. Because I’m not the guy who texted her. I just took his place.

---