“I understand,” he said, though his voice was tight, the frustration barely concealed. “So, what, until the end of the season?”
My lips rolled together. “Maybe. I don’t know. I-I’m sorry. I can’t think straight right now.”
“Okay,” he conceded with a grin that felt like a ray of home. “I watched you from afar for years. What’s a couple more months?”
His confession made me want to cry again, but instead I shook my head, my voice soft but firm. “You don’t owe me anything.” I hated how my voice broke. “You’re free to do whatever you want.”
“What makes you think I’d want to be with anyone else?” he asked, his tone tinged with hurt.
I shrugged, my insecurities bubbling to the surface. “Because you’re Callum Fraser,” I said bitterly. “Everyone knows you don’t stay.”
He grabbed my shoulders. “I don’t know how else to show you how different you are.”
Before I could respond, his lips crashed against mine. The kiss was desperate, passionate, a lingering connection that neither of us wanted to sever. My fingers tangled in his hair, his hands gripping my waist as if letting go wasn’t an option.
When we finally pulled apart, both of us breathing heavily, I stepped back, my resolve hardening. “For now…” I paused, wondering how this was going to sound to him. “Friends… with extremely complicated, emotionally loaded, definitely-not-just-sex strings?”
I expected him to laugh. He didn’t, not this time. He just… looked at me like it might be the last time, grabbed me, and slanted his mouth over mine.
It was wild and raw, all tongue and need and no room to breathe. I stumbled back from the force as he surged forward, his hands sliding down to grip my thighs. My skin was on fire and my blood heatedinstantly, my body and heart and mind and soul wanting him in ways that I shouldn't. It could jeopardize everything. It alreadywasjeopardizing everything, but when he kissed me like this, nothing else mattered.
I wanted to matter to someone else, and that person washim.
In one swift, fluid motion, he lifted me onto the desk he’d fucked me on just hours ago. I sucked in a breath when the cold surface touched the back of my legs. My skirt bunched around my hips as my legs parted instinctively, letting him step between them. His hands roamed as if he didn’t know what part of me to claim first—as if he wanted it all. Again. Still. Forever.
“Do friends kiss like this?” he asked against my mouth, his voice frayed with something between desire and heartbreak.
This was a terrible idea. I was going to regret this. But God, I needed to feel wanted, just this last time.
I moaned, hands grasping at the waistband of his sweats to bring him closer.
He dragged his nose along the line of my jaw, down my neck, licking, sucking, branding. I shivered, eyes rolling back. “Do friends touch like this?” he murmured, unfastening the buttons I’d just done up. One by one. Until he could cup my breasts under the shirt that no longer belonged to him.
Friends.He said the word with such disdain, and honestly, I felt the same way. Sure, we werefriends, but that's not all we were. The term was offensive for the things he made me feel… and maybe the things I madehimfeel.
“Do friends know how you taste?” He dropped to his knees, and I swallowed down the lump of emotions. He stared up at me, and the temperature of the room ratcheted up when his hands slid over my thighs.
I should stop this, but I really didn't want to. When I walked out of this room… it could be the end. What if he found someone else?
Fuck, the thought made me sick.
"Aurélie, eyes on me, love." Ugh, he couldn't say that to me. But I couldn't resist, and I did as he asked, and his hands inched further up my thighs to push my skirt up more. "Good girl. Don't look away."He made me feel wanted in a way that wasn’t transactional. I was more than just fast hands and hollow bones.
The air punched out of me as he shoved my panties aside and buried his face between my legs. His mouth was hot and unrelenting, tongue flicking and curling, lips wrapping around my clit like he was starving for it. My hands flew to his hair. I arched into him, gasping when he groaned, as if the sound of my pleasure did something to him.
I came hard. Too fast. Too much. My thighs trembled around his head and he didn’t stop until I whined, overworked and dazed.
When he stood, his lips were swollen, glistening, and smug. I barely had time to catch my breath before he helped me off the desk and guided me to the door on shaking legs. Not with words, just a hand on my back, a whisper of fingers down my spine.
But then he pressed me to the wall beside the door. His hands caged me there, and his mouth covered mine again, hungry and deep. "Taste yourself," he groaned into my mouth, and I whimpered, the words hitting me like a jolt of lightning. "Dofriendsmake you come all over their tongue?" When he pulled back, just barely, I could taste myself on his tongue.
“Do friends let you leave like this?” he whispered, brushing his nose along my cheek, lips hovering over mine.
I was breathless. Shaking. Every cell in my body ached to stay. But I managed a crooked smile. “Guess you’ll have to redefine the term.”
He didn’t smile back. Just looked at me as if it might be the last time. “C’est cruel, ça,” he murmured.That’s cruel.Then, softer, almost reverent, “Tu es belle, même quand tu t'en vas.”You’re beautiful, even when you’re leaving.
My breath caught. He didn’t say anything else, but his gaze roamed over my face like he was trying to piece together every shard I’d just dropped. His fingers brushed my arm—light, barely there—as though he didn’t want to scare me.
