For one second, something naked crosses his face. Pain, maybe. Fear. I don’t fucking know anymore. It’s there and then gone, shoved straight back behind that same perfect control I’ve been trying to break through since the second I met him.
His fingers tighten around my hip, pulling me closer.
I almost fucking laugh.
Because this is exactly what I mean.
His body never lies to me.
There’s no space left between us now, my chest pressed to his, our breaths tangling between our mouths. I can feel the tension running through him, the way he leans into me even while some other part of him is trying desperately to hold back.
He wants me.
I know he fucking wants me.
That’s what makes this hurt so much.
Connor’s hand lifts to my face, his palm cupping my jaw, thumb brushing slowly beneath my cheekbone, my eyes closing as I lean into his hand.
Because I have absolutely no fucking self-respect left when it comes to Connor Reid.
His thumb moves over my skin again and I let myself stand there in his hands and pretend wanting me might finally be enough for him.
Then I open my eyes.
Connor is looking around again.
It’s quick. Barely a second. His gaze darts past me before coming back, teeth catching his bottom lip as he worries at it.
He leans in anyway.
My heart kicks hard against my ribs as his face comes closer, and I hate the way hope still manages to flare inside me. Even now. Even after everything.
His lips brush mine when he speaks.
“I can’t.”
Two words.
That’s all it takes.
My chest caves in so hard I swear I feel it happen.
“I’m sorry.”
I stare at him for a second, close enough that his mouth is still touching mine, and there’s this stupid part of me waiting for something else.
A but.
Anything.
Nothing comes.
My forehead drops against his because I can’t hold myself up without touching him for one more fucking second. Connor stays there, his hand still against my face, and I breathe him in while something inside me finally gives.
My gaze drops to his mouth.
I could kiss him.