His fingers brushing mine when I pass him after dinner. A look that holds half a second too long across the foyer. His hand on the small of my back when I walk through a doorway, lingering in a way that would expose us if anyone were paying attention. Stolen kisses in dark corners—hurried and desperate. Seconds we can't afford to take.
It's dangerous, but we don't care anymore.
That's what makes it irresponsible.
I'm allowing myself to get lost in the thrill of it, and then I forget what's at stake. It's turning into a need I can't seem to go without.
But then it stops being small altogether.
Day After the Garage
The linen closeton the second floor.
I don't know how we end up here. One minute I'm walking to my room after breakfast. The next, his hand closes around my wrist and I'm yanked into a small box, surrounded by towels.
"Someone's going to?—"
"Don't care."
His mouth is on my neck before I finish the sentence. His hand slides under my blouse. An embarrassing sound slips out of me.
I pull him closer, and we stumble just as footsteps sound in the hallway.
We freeze—his palm against my breast, my fingers twisted in his collar. Both of us breathing through our noses like that might make us invisible.
The footsteps pass, and we crash back together. All teeth and desperation. When we break apart, he shoves me toward the door.
"Go. Now. Before I do something stupid."
My pulse doesn't slow for an hour.
That Evening
I'm walkingto dinner when I notice Tristan standing near the library, on duty.
His eyes track me the entire way, and I don't look away. I can't.
As I pass, his hand shoots out and grabs my elbow, dragging me behind a massive potted fern into an alcove I didn't know existed.
I'm on him before my back hits the wall.
Messy. Frantic. His tongue in my mouth, my hands fisted in his hair, one leg hooked around his hip while voices float from the dining room thirty feet away.
"Ewan's waiting," I gasp.
"Ten seconds." His tongue traces my upper lip. "Give me ten seconds, or I'll lose my mind watching you sit next to him."
I give him fifteen.
Then I smooth my hair, steady my breathing, and walk into dinner like I wasn't just devoured in a hallway.
Ewan doesn't notice a thing.
Day Two. The Garden Shed. 3:22 p.m.
This one was planned.
I've been waiting for it all day, bouncing and counting minutes like a fucking junkie. By the time I reach the shed, my hands are trembling. I didn't even check if anyone saw me slip out.
