I shrug because I can’t do anything else with my hands except hold on tighter. I can’t hold her, so I grasp the notebook.
“It’s just words,” I say, even though we both know that’s not true.
“No.” She shakes her head, small and certain. “No, this is you. You see me.”
And she stays there beside me in the dark, like she’s saying it back without needing to.
“Look at me,” I say.
June’s eyes lock on mine like she’s been waiting for permission to stop pretending she isn’t burning up. There’s no timid hesitation in her. No backing away. Just that sharp, bright need that makes my pulse jump hard in my throat.
A beat of silence. Not uncertainty. Decision.
I reach for her.
Not gentle. Not careful in the way that keeps space between us. I catch her by the waist and pull her in close, dragging her into my body like the distance has been the problem all along. She comes willingly, knee sliding in, breath catching, and the moment her weight shifts toward me, it feels like something in the room finally clicks into place.
My mouth finds hers.
This is the kind of kiss that makes the air disappear, like the hallway has been sealed shut and all that exists is her mouth and mine and the sound she makes when I take it deeper. Her hands grab at my shoulders, then my hair, and then the front of my shirt like she is trying to pull me closer than physics allows. She kisses me back greedily, as if I am the only thing that tastes like relief.
I tilt my head and keep going, slowing down only long enough to make her feel it, to make her chase it. Her lips part, her breath turns uneven, and she makes this soft, wrecked sound right into my mouth that shoots straight through my spine and down to my cock. I slide my hand up her back, firm, anchoring, not letting her drift away from me even by an inch. The phone light throws shadows across her cheekbones, across the curve ofher mouth, and I swear I could kiss her forever and still not get enough.
She shifts again, restless, impatient with the hallway floor and the way we are positioned. Her thigh slides over mine, then her other leg follows, and suddenly she is moving onto me like it’s the most natural decision she has ever made. She straddles me there in the dark, close and warm, breath shaking, mouth still on mine like she refuses to let the connection break for even a second.
I groan against her lips. My hands find her hips, then lower to her ass, holding her there with a grip that makes it clear I am not letting her go. She rolls her body forward even more, needy, and I can’t get enough. This is her, unapologetic, losing control in a way that feels like a gift.
I break the kiss only to drag my mouth along her jaw, to the corner of her lips again, then back to her mouth, because I can’t decide where I want her most. She tips her head, giving me access like she knows exactly what she’s doing, and when I return to her mouth, it’s deeper, slower, the kind of kiss that ruins your ability to pretend this is nothing. Her fingers curl at the back of my neck like she’s holding me in place, claiming her turn.
“Carter,” she breathes, not a warning, not a plea. Just my name.
“I’m right here,” I murmur, and I kiss her again, swallowing whatever she was about to say.
She rocks against me, impatient, and I tighten my hands on her hips to steady her. Not to stop her. To keep her with me. To keep her exactly where I want her. Her forehead drops to mine for half a second, her eyes half lidded, mouth swollen from the kiss.
“I’m stunned that you can do this to me,” she whispers, like she’s accusing me of a crime she is happy to be guilty of.
I brush my mouth over hers, barely there, a cruel little touch that makes her chase it.
“I’m not doing anything,” I say quietly. “You came to me.”
Her smile is all heat, all challenge.
“Then keep up,” she adds. And she kisses me again, harder, like she has decided she’s done waiting.
I let her set the pace for a few breaths, just to watch her take what she wants. Then I take it back, because she wanted confidence, and I have plenty of it. I slide one hand up to cradle the back of her head, guiding her mouth where I want it, holding her there while the kiss turns into something that feels too big for the space we’re in.
She makes another sound, soft and wrecking, and it hits me right in the gut. I pull her closer, until she is pressed fully against me, until there is no room left for doubt or distance or anything except the way she is shaking with it.
“This,” I murmur against her mouth, “is what you need?”
June’s eyes flash. She leans in, lips brushing mine when she answers. “Yes, please.”
My thumbs press into her hips, the fabric of her sleep top and shorts thin as paper. “Good,” I say, low. Certain. “Because I know exactly what to do with you.”
June makes a sound against my lips—a soft, desperate whimper—and my cock throbs in response. I’m already hard, aching, every nerve ending on fire. She pulls me closer like she’s trying to climb inside me.
Fuck.I love the way she’s grabbing at me, hungry and unashamed. Love the way her body arches into mine, seeking friction, seeking heat.
