Page 115 of Scoring Lessons

His eyes flickered with disbelief. “I never know where I stand with you, and you dare to say I’m confusing?” He took a step back as he rubbed the palm of his hand against his mouth, followed by a dry laugh. “That’s real fucking rich coming from you.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” I avoided his gaze because…he was right. I was confusing, too. It was like we both were feeling too much, too soon, and we didn’t know how to deal with it. Dancing around what we pretended didn’t exist used to be a great way to cope. Keyword being used to.

“I want you to tell me that this”—he pointed between us—“isn’t all in my head.” He took a deep breath and caged me in again, his eyes searching mine in desperation. “I want you to tell me you don’t want to go out with that guy.”

The humorless chuckle that slipped out of me was accidental. “Is this what this is about? You’re jealous?”

His jaw was sharp, his eyes were a darker shade of emerald green underneath the white elevator lights. “So what if I am?” He bit out the words harshly, his lips less than an inch away from mine. “Hm?”

The silence that fell between us was heavy. Thick. I could barely breathe. The tension tasted like something dangerous, but thrilling. My heart beat against my throat, giving me a hefty reminder that this was very much real. His gaze pinned me in place like another connection to this defining moment.

“Let me break the rule.” His words were raw, barely a whisper, as if they physically broke him down, exposing him to nothing.

“Wesley…” His name came out just as weakly.

He fisted his hands, the knuckles meeting the mirror. “Please, Olivia.” His face turned anguished. His tone was filled with enough pain that it pulled my heart too tight, too fast. “I can’t bear this anymore. It’s killing me. It’s physically ki⁠—”

“Kiss me.”

Everything happened in slow motion. A beat passed as our gazes dropped to each other’s lips. There was so much silence you could hear a pin drop. Another beat, and our gazes clashed in a stare-off. We both knew the heaviness of the moment. We were both painfully aware of the consequences of what we were about to do.

One last painful beat passed, and he wrapped one of his hands around my throat then clashed our lips in a fervent kiss.

It was nothing like I’d prepared myself for. He kissed me like he’d been holding it back so long it had turned into something desperate, something that had worn grooves into him from the inside out. His hand moved from my throat all the way up to my face like I was something he was afraid of losing and had just gotten back, and I felt the barely contained restraint in the way his fingers curled against my jaw.

He tasted like citrus and something warmer underneath it, and it was like magic the way my mind went completely blank.

This was the thing nobody told you about a kiss you’d been avoiding. When it finally happened, it didn’t feel like a beginning. It was like the end of something torturous. The answer to a question you’d been carrying for so long that you’d forgotten how bad it was weighing you down.

My hands found the fabric of his shirt, and I held on. He made a sound low in his throat that I swallowed with every brush of my lips against his.

I’d kissed people before. This wasn’t that. It was…so. Much. More.

This was Wesley, who had seen me at my worst and shown up anyway. My Wesley, who’d somehow become my best friend, when I had spent months convincing myself we didn’t like each other. Now here we were, in the present, with the truth bleeding out of us like a slow pour of wine. I understood then that I had never been convincing at all. Neither of us had been convincing at all.

We’d been doomed from the start. This was the only possible outcome. It hadn’t been a matter of if. It had been a matter of when.

His hand shook as he threaded his fingers through my hair until they found the back of my neck. He held me there as steady as he could. His tongue ran across my bottom lip, demanding a quiet entrance. I parted my lips, giving in to what we both wanted. We were a mess of heavy breaths, burning kisses, and exploratory touches.

When neither of us could breathe any longer, we broke apart, resting our foreheads like we were one. He reached for the elevator button, and the box moved, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened in the first place. Like it had been a normal elevator ride.

We’d barely reached the inside of our apartment when I threw myself at him and searched for his lips like they were the only source of energy, air, everything. He caught me with ease, like he’d been expecting it.

Everything moved in slow motion, yet fast enough to be dizzying.

One second, he had me pinned against the wall as he intoxicated me with more kisses. The next, he dropped me on the kitchen island as his lips traveled down the column of my neck, my collarbone, my chest. Mark after hot mark, like he’d made it his mission to study my body with his mouth. Every press of his lips against my skin was like he was leaving a reminder behind that this is exactly where he belonged.

I reached for the belt of his pants in a daze. He unzipped my jumpsuit, shakily but with an edge of desperation, like the heat of the moment was ready to leave us, and we wanted it to make it count. To make it last.

Our clothes ended up somewhere around the floor until we were down to our underwear. His hair was disheveled. My lungs were trying to retain as much air as possible.

He took a beat and a hard gulp, meeting my stare. Gripping my thighs with the possession I loved and craved more of. “Olivia⁠—”

I pressed a finger against his lips. “Later,” I murmured. We could talk about it later. There was no way I had the strength to stop what we both so desperately wanted. “I need you, now.”

“Fuck,” he growled against my mouth before his tongue clashed with mine in another deep kiss. He grabbed a fistful of my hair, angling my head to give him more access. His other hand traveled down the side of my braless breasts, my love handles, my hip bones, until his fingers hooked on the hem of my panties and he pushed them down with ease.

I parted my legs and wrapped an arm around him, letting my fingertips run featherlight touches up and down the muscles of his back. His shaft was straining against his boxers, so with my one free hand, I shoved them down.