‘Ava,’ I warn. It’s a plea. Run. Before I snap.
But she grabs a fistful of my hoodie and hauls me down to her mouth.
Fuck yes.
This kiss is a detonation. She tastes of caramel, and the groan that rips out of me is filthy with need. I take her waist and lift. She wraps her legs around me, and I carry her backwards until her back slams into the mirrored wall with a thud that threatens to break it.
Last night, I slammed the brakes on to keep her safe. But Ava isn’t fragile. She’s a fucking powerhouse. Treating her like porcelain isn’t protective. It’s an insult. And if she’s pushing for this, I’m pulling her right into the deep end with me. So I kiss her apart until we’re both gasping for air.
‘Wow,’ she pants. ‘You really can kiss.’
‘Thank you. I’m gonna do it again now.’
‘Yes,’ she gasps against my mouth. ‘Yes. Scottie, don’t stop.’
I pin her to the mirror with my hips, kneading her arse, tilting her until she’s flush against my cock. She rolls down, and I nearly lose my mind.
‘Fuck, Ava.’ I grind up into her, and she lets out a whine. ‘You feel that? That’s how fucked up you got me.’
She bites my bottom lip, and my hips buck on reflex, driving against her. Her thighs squeeze around my waist. She moans into my mouth, riding the friction, and I feel her chasing it already.
We’re combusting.
My hand slides under the hem of her jumper. Hot skin. The dip of her waist. I want to go higher. I want to cup her tit and feel the nipple harden between my fingers. I want to drop to my knees, drag those leggings down with my teeth, and fucking devour her.
Every roll of her hips drags her right over my pulsing hardness, and my hands on her arse crush her closer, locking the angle, taking what I need.
‘Harder.’ I bite the word into her neck. ‘Go on. Work me harder.’
She does, and her mouth drops open against mine. The moan that spills out is wrecked. I match her, driving up, and she whimpers with need. So I keep that tempo until her eyes roll back.
‘Ah! Oh god. Yes…’ Her breath is ragged against my ear. ‘I’m going to… I’m?—’
Right there. Right on the fucking edge.
Footsteps. Heavy soles on the floorboards outside the studio door.
We rip apart. She drops from my waist and steadies herself on the barre. I stagger away, fists balled, every nerve screaming to pin her against that mirror and finish what we started. The footsteps pass and fade down the corridor.
Cold guilt douses the heat. I’m not her boyfriend.
‘God. This is…’
‘…a problem.’ I try to hide how gutted I feel. ‘You just left a relationship. I’m your… I don’t know what I am to you.’
She laughs, but it’s shaky. ‘You’re my friend. The only one I’ve got right now.’
‘Aye.’ I let out a breath that burns. It’s one thing to punch your teammate because he threatened his girlfriend, who happens to be your friend. Making that same woman your girl only days after? Another dimension of fuckery.
But that’s what I want. I want Ava MacKinney so bad it hurts all over.
Yet as I stand here with the memory of her body against mine, the brutal reality of it sets in. I’m gonna fuck it all up. Her life, my life, our friendship.
Ava gazes up at me. Lips bitten red, hair tangled, chest heaving. She’s wearing the evidence of what I just did to her, and I want to do it again. Harder. Slower. With far fewer clothes between us.
‘I can’t lose this,’ I hear myself say. ‘Our friendship. If this goes wrong – if we try and it explodes – I lose you. And I can’t have that.’
She furrows her eyebrows. ‘You’re worried about losing me?’
