This man.
“Griff,” I breathe, and I swear to God, every tense, coiled muscle in me just melts into a puddle.
He doesn’t say shit. Just grabs my face and kisses me like he’s been dying to. Like he’s been holding his breath since the last time and only now gets to exhale.
Our mouths crash together. It’s teeth and lips and heat. His tongue pushes into my mouth like he owns the place. And yeah, I meet him right there. Our tongues are clashing, slick and messy.
He makes this low noise, almost a growl, deep in his throat and holy shit, that sound goes straight to my spine and zaps right to my cock. My hands are in his hair before I even realize it, tugging just enough to make him groan into my mouth again.
We’re pressed so tight together there’s no room to think. He backs me into the shelf, knocking over a box of gloves or something. His hands are under my shirt now, palms hot and a little rough, dragging up my sides like he needs to memorize every inch.
I gasp into his mouth when he brushes my ribs, and he laughs a little huff against my lips, smug as hell but still soft, still stupidly into this.
And for a second, the kiss slows. His tongue slides against mine, teasing now, lazy and confident, like he’s got all the time in the world to ruin me.
When he finally pulls back, we’re both panting with lips swollen. And yeah, I know I’m not the only one rock-hard right now. It’s insane how fucking turned on I am. One more second ofthat and I swear I would’ve dropped to my knees or pulled him down on top of me.
But of course, voices float down the hall, immediately snapping reality right back into place.
We absolutely, 100%, cannot fuck in the supply closet.
Shame.
Not that making out like hormonal high schoolers is much better, but hell if I can bring myself to regret it.
“What are you doing?” I hiss, glancing toward the door like some sophomore's about to barge in and catch us mid-makeout.
Griff just chuckles cool and unbothered, and brushes his thumb over my bottom lip. “I just needed to kiss you.”
I nearly fucking moan. Like, audibly. I bite it back but my whole damn body reacts. That stupid giddy smile I have been wearing recently makes a reappearance.
“Here?” I ask, trying not to sound as breathless as I feel. He’s not usually this reckless.
His grin doesn't fade. He nods. “Yeah.”
I roll my eyes, but my heart’s doing gymnastics. “You are dangerous.”
He shakes his head at that, his expression shifting into something more serious. “No. Just missed you. I wouldn’t have done it if I thought we’d get caught. I wouldn’t risk your position. You know that, right?”
I nod before the words even register fully, because yeah. I do. I trust him. “I know.”
That gets a smile out of him and he leans in to press a slow, featherlight kiss to my lips. My eyes flutter shut like a damn reflex.
“What’re you doing after practice?” he murmurs, still close enough that I feel the heat of his breath.
I shrug, trying to play it casual even though my heart’s sprinting. “Probably heading home. Hanging out with Hugh.”
“You should come over,” he says, voice quiet but steady.
I blink. That’s new. He’s not hiding me, exactly, but we’ve been lowkey feeling it out and taking our time. “Are your roommates going out or something?”
He shakes his head, and my brows pull together.
“No, you can hang with us.”
I don’t say anything right away. That feels… big. Bigger than what we’ve done so far.
Griff must see the hesitation, because his tone softens again. “Listen, we can invite Hugh too. I just… I wanna spend time with you.”
