Chapter Ten #3
When I opened my eyes, his were already on me—searching, unguarded, stripped of every layer he wore in the daylight.
My gaze went to his lips, parted and glistening, the same lips that had been on mine a second ago.
Our eyes locked again, and something like lightning shot down my spine, flooding every inch of me with violent, dizzying want.
Sebastian let out a breath that sounded almost like surrender, his gaze dragging over my face like he was mapping every detail again.
Then his hands moved—up my neck, over my jaw, into my hair—fingers tangling, gentle at first and then tightening with a little more grip.
His eyes followed the movement hungrily before lifting back to mine.
The look we shared was everything—one beat of recognition, of shit, we’re really doing this—before we dove back in. No slow, no subtle. Just the raw hunger of two men absolutely starved for each other.
I groaned into his mouth as his fist tightened in my hair, dragging me into the angle he wanted while he devoured me. I bit down on his lower lip, and he answered with a sharp nip of his own, like he’d been waiting for an excuse to lose every ounce of control.
Then he stepped in—really stepped in—pressing me into the wall, chest-to-chest, thigh sliding between mine, and every coherent thought I had evaporated.
I’d been hard from the second his mouth touched mine, but when his leg pushed up between my thighs and my hips jerked forward without permission, there was no pretending. We both felt it. Both reacted.
Suddenly nothing in the world mattered except getting closer—impossible as it was.
I grabbed at him—his jaw, his shoulders, his shirt—anything to drag him closer.
He was solid under my palms, heat rolling off him like a furnace, the back of his shirt damp with sweat.
Every brush of his stubble scraped fire across my mouth.
Every drag of his hands lit my nerves up like they’d been waiting their whole lives for this exact touch.
He crowded lower, into every inch of my space, and I rose onto my toes again to meet him, desperate to align our bodies properly.
It was messy and frantic—my knee bumping his hip, his hand skidding down my side before gripping tight, hauling me flush against him like distance was no longer survivable—but fucking perfect.
His thigh pressed up again, and I gasped into his mouth, my hands fisting in his shirt like I could fuse us together by force alone.
The wall was cold at my back, but I barely felt it. Everything was heat and noise and him.
His mouth.
His hands.
His breath mixing with mine.
The way he groaned when I dragged my fingers through his hair, pulling him back down for more. He felt incredible. Felt right.
I could just melt right here and now. Melt straight into him.
The bass from the dance floor pulsed through the wall—deep, slow vibrations rolling up my spine—but it felt miles away. Like the whole club had sunk underwater, muffled and blurred, leaving only the two of us breathing in the same tiny pocket of air.
“Seriously?” The loud voice registered somewhere in the back of my brain—but not enough to pull me out of him.
“Sebastian!”
That one did. Him. Not me. The second he tore his mouth from mine, I was already leaning in again, chasing him like a fucking maniac.
“For fuck’s sake, help me unglue them,” Henry grumbled, presumably to someone else.
“Not yet,” I said, grabbing the back of Sebastian’s neck and pulling him down to my mouth again. He actually responded for a second before a hand planted itself on my chest—firm, unrelenting—and pushed me back against the wall.
But it wasn’t his.
I blinked slowly, finally focusing on Henry’s very unimpressed face.
“Will you calm the fuck down?” he said, then flicked his gaze to his brother. “And are you two aware you’re making out in a literal open corridor? While everyone—including your boyfriend—is out there and could walk past whenever?”
That word—boyfriend—hit like someone had tossed cold water over both of us.
Our eyes met again, and guilt shot across his expression.
Sebastian exhaled hard, face scrunching like reality had just caught up. “Fuck,” he breathed, rubbing a hand over his face before taking a step back.
But this is mine. He was mine first.
Immature? Yeah. Probably. But he was supposed to be with me, not him. It wasn’t fucking fair. He clearly wanted me too.
“Now,” Henry said, snapping the moment in half, “do I need to ice you, or are you good to walk out of here?”
Sebastian nodded once and took a couple more steps back.
That’s when I noticed Mateo standing nearby, watching all of this unfold. He gave me an apologetic little smile and a look that carried just a hint of pity. A quiet You know this is a mess, even though he didn’t say it.
I swallowed hard, the heat of Sebastian’s mouth still buzzing under my skin.
Henry sighed. “Let’s go.”
Sebastian didn’t look at me again—I caught the moment he almost did, then forced himself not to.
But I couldn’t look away.
And that was how we walked out of the corridor—him pretending nothing had happened, and me still trying to remember how to breathe.