Page 159 of Make Me Mean It

“You don’t get to touch me anymore.”

“Theo,” Connor says, softer this time, his mouth pulling down slightly around my name.

There’s an apology in it. I hear it even though he hasn’t fucking said one, and it hits me hard enough that I stumble back a step before I can hide the reaction.

“No.” I shake my head, putting more distance between us. “I’m not doing this.”

I back into my room, catching the edge of the door and pulling it with me. If I can just get it shut, if I can put something solid between us before he says whatever the fuck he came up here to say, maybe I can keep hold of the part of me that knows walking away was the right thing to do.

The door barely moves before Connor’s palm slams against it.

It stops dead.

“Connor.”

He shoves against it, and I grit my teeth, trying to hold it before the pressure forces me to give. The door swings back open and suddenly he’s right there again, too close, filling the doorway and my fucking head at the same time.

My eyes betray me, dropping to his mouth.

I drag them away, clenching my jaw hard until it aches.

“Please, leave.”

I retreat until the edge of my desk presses into the backs of my thighs, letting myself fall against it and gripping the edge with both hands. My head is telling me to get him out. My chest is doing something completely different, pulling toward him like it hasn’t learned a single fucking thing.

“I can’t.”

Connor steps into the room.

Then into me.

He slots himself between my legs where I’m leaning against the desk, crowding into the space I’ve been trying so hard to keep between us. His body is warm against mine, his cologne filling my lungs, familiar enough that my fingers tighten painfully around the edge of the desk.

His finger slips beneath my chin.

I jerk my head away before he can tilt it up and shove both hands flat against his chest, holding him back.

“Don’t,” I snap.

“Please look at me, baby.”

My head snaps up.

Something sharp tears straight through everything else, anger flaring hot enough to finally drown out the ache.

“I’m not your fucking baby, Connor.”

His face changes, but I don’t let myself look at it for long. I drag a hand through my hair, tugging hard at the strands because I need something to do with it that isn’t reaching for him.

He can’t stand there calling me baby.

I shove him hard enough that he stumbles back a step, and the second the space opens between us, I suck in a breath.

It still tastes like him.

Fuck.

“Get out.” I keep my voice low because if I raise it, I’m not sure whether I’m going to start shouting or fucking break. “Just get out.”