She looks straight through me then. For a moment, my heart drops. I wasn’t lying; I think I can manage stalking her, and not touching her for a while… A small while. Elise’s voice echoes in my mind: ‘fucking psycho.’ Sure, sure. That’s true.
“Are you going to kiss me already?”
My heart lifts right back up. “You don’t want to take me out to dinner first?” I clear my throat.
She glares at me above a grin.
I look at her lips. Blood roars through me. Need to claim those lips. I caress the nape of her neck, holding her nervous gaze.I guide her towards my mouth, savouring the moment—her breath, the subtle way her scent lifts to me… Then I kiss her. Lips around lips. Tongue meeting tongue somewhere in the middle.Yes.
My arms tighten around her waist, pulling her onto her tiptoes, our lips crushing together, her entire body melting against mine. I notice everything. My every sense focuses on her, her body surrendering, her mouth soft and hesitant, letting mine guide her, her delicate, almost broken moan—all of it.
She tastes as good as I thought she would. Nothing has ever felt this right, this good, and nothing ever will. Her lips were meant to be on mine.
My cock jumps, and I groan. Slowly, I explore the curve of her lower back and the arch of her perfect arse.Fuck. I squeeze her arse and press her into my erection. The parts of me that say, ‘slow down,’ are fucking drowning in the parts of me saying, ‘eat her alive.’ I deepen our kiss, dipping my head and showing her the depth of my yearning. I trace the pronounced curvature of her spine, revelling in the feel of her quivering beneath my touch. My breath is lost somewhere in her mouth, hers is in mine. She is stealing my air, my sanity, and any hope I had of being her stalker and not her lover. I’m crazy, irrevocable, undeniably obsessed with this woman.
CHAPTER THIRTY
blesk
It started with that kiss—toes curling, heart racing, breathless—and then it didn’t stop. I tried not to get swept up in his whirlwind, keeping our interactions to between class and meals and responsibilities…
But… It’s been a magical few days. The kissing hasn’t stopped. Between lectures and tutorials, against walls, between book stacks and doorways. Konnor’s mouth finds mine before every hello, and mine accepts.
Three days of fingers moving from tentative touches at his shirt to gripping and pulling and pushing. Three days of coming up for air only to decide his bourbon flavoured breath is sweeter, and then time’s up.
I slip away.
Or he goes to practise.
It’s fun—the yearning for the next kiss. And now our lips move without question, but with understanding. And his hands move to my hips, squeezing and wanting more than they are taking. I can tell, by the way he paws at me. Restless.
By the fourth night we eat and drink a bottle of wine at The Grill,then head to his apartment, my overnight bag slung over his shoulder.
We enter and something is off. I scan the room, then drift toward his bed, running my eyes over surfaces that feel emptier since the last time I was here.
I stare at his bedside table. “Your alarm clock.” It’s a strange thing to notice, except that I can still see my own hand sliding the note beneath it nearly two weeks ago.
“Broke it. It was a jackarse. Delivering me your letter was the final straw.”
I raise a brow.
He shrugs. “It had been warned.”
“It’s an inanimate object, Konnor,” I say, already drifting toward his beautiful bookcase, strategically placed to act as a room divider, my eyes catching on each spine in turn.
“Oh, trust me, that didn’t stop it from bossing me around every damn day.” His eyes track me. “I did us both a favour. It didn’t have very nice things to say about you either.”
“And everything else?” I spin around and look at him, gesturing towards a corner that once had a pot plant, the empty spot where the coffee table sat, the luscious rug still showing evidence of its weight.
His jaw muscles pulse. “Broke a few other things too, Duch. But forget about that. I know I need to work on… my temper. I have a present for you.” He wanders over to the walk-in closet. Swinging open the door, he squats and reaches inside. He pulls out a folder with the word Everything Museum written on it. I brighten, because I know exactly what it is.
Our mug shots.
I jig in place like a little kid, waiting to see them.
Watching my expression intently, he brings it over and places it on the kitchen bench. He pulls them out, and I look at the images. “Our first ever photos together, Duch.I went back for them. You dropped yours when you ran so… We should frame them!”
My breath catches in my throat, and I press my fingers to my smile. I’m looking straight ahead, a blush that readsKonnorSlatermarring my cheeks. And he is looking off into the distance, but I know it’s towards me. My heart aches. It is so ludicrously clear that we are falling hard. I smooth my finger over Konnor’s soft smile. I’m unable to take my eyes off it, unable to comprehend how he could look so obsessed with me before he knew I was Liz—when we were just Konnor and Blesk. When we barely knew each other. It’s ridiculously clear that we were crazy about each other even then.
