He scoffs. “Of course I am.”
I close my eyes, long enough to decide I’m already in too deep to salvage this cleanly. “I’m not avoiding you,” I say carefully. “I’m managing something.”
“That’s generous,” he replies. “From where I’m standing, you’ve decided I’m a problem.”
“You’re not a problem,” I say immediately.
“Then what am I?” I don’t have a good answer. At least, not one that doesn’t tear the rest of this open. I reach for his arm, and he jerks away.
“Fuck no. Don’t do that. Don’t go cold for what, two weeks? And then grab me like you’ve changed your mind.”
“I didn’t change my mind,” I say. “I never did.”
“Then why—”
“Because you’re leaving,” I cut in.
“And that’s it?” he asks quietly. “That’s your plan? Pretend I don’t exist so it hurts less later?”
“Yes,” I say honestly.
He stares at me, then he laughs. “That’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever said.”
“It is the truth.”
“It’s fucking cowardly. You don’t get to decide what—” he cuts himself off and pauses. “You don’t get to rewrite this so you feel more in control.”
“I’m trying not to destroy myself,” I confess.
“By destroying me first?”
I don’t have an answer to that; all I have is the truth, so that’s what I give him. “It’s killing me staying away from you. And I can’t pretend this doesn’t end.”
“So make your choice,” he says, “because I’m done with your emotional whiplash.”
I hold his gaze and I let him see it. The fear, the certainty, and what I’ve been choking back for days. “I choose now,” I say.
“Then stop pushing me away,” he says softly. I nod and lean in before I lose my nerve. The kiss isn’t desperate or rushed. It’s firm and full of everything I didn’t let myself do at all since we got back. He makes a sound against my mouth, and his hands come up slowly, like he’s checking I won’t disappear again. “I’m angry with you,” he mutters.
“Good, stay with me.” I don’t know how we get to the door, or who pulls who. Only that the moment the lock clicks behind us, the rest of the world stops mattering. I press my forehead to his. “I’m not good at this,” I whisper.
“I know,” he says softly. “You’re fucking terrible.” I laugh against his lips as I press him against the door, my body pinning him, and my mouth crashing into his. His lips part under mine, hungry and desperate. I groan into his mouth, my tongue sliding against his. My hands are everywhere, one tangled in his hair, gripping tight enough to make him gasp, the other sliding down his back, feeling the hard lines of his muscles through his shirt.
“I missed you, detka,” I growl against his lips, my voice rough and raw. My cock is already hard, pressing against the zipper of my uniform, and aching for him. “I missed your fucking mouth. Your hands. Your ass.” I mumble, biting down on his bottom lip, just enough to sting. He whimpers, and his body automatically arches into mine, his hands fisting in my T-shirt, pulling me closer.
My lips trail down his jaw, my teeth nipping and grazing the skin. He tilts his head back, giving me better access. “Ari—” he breathes out, the tone coming out in sharp, uneven gasps.
“Mm,” I hum, loving the way my name sounds on his lips.My mouth moves lower down his neck, my tongue tracing the pulse point there. His skin is warm, glossy with sweat, and I can feel his heartbeat hammering under my lips; it’s fast and frantic.
My hands slide down to his waist, gripping the hem of his T-shirt. I yank it up, breaking the kiss just long enough to pull it over his head. He helps me, his arms lifting, his muscles flexing under my touch.
The T-shirt hits the floor with a soft thud, then my hands are on his bare skin, tracing the hard planes of his chest, stomach, and his abs.
I push him towards the desk, and he goes willingly, bending over; his palms flat against the surface, his back arching just enough to present himself to me.
I step in behind him, my cock throbbing, and my hands already moving to unbutton his trousers. I push everything down in one rough movement, exposing his ass — the tight globes of muscle flexing as he shifts his weight.
“Fuck,” I breathe, as my hands grip his hips, and my thumbs trace the curve of his cheeks. I lean over him, my lips brushing the shell of his ear. “You’ve been driving me crazy, Caiden,” I whisper, biting down on his earlobe, just enough to make him hiss and his body tense under mine.
