CHAPTER 23 #2
“In fact, I know you wanna kiss me right now,” I whisper, my voice low and taunting as I take a step closer. The air between us feels electric, charged with tension that neither of us is willing to break first.
Hayes’s eyes darken, his jaw tightening as his glare sharpens. “You’re delusional,” he snaps, but his voice wavers just slightly, betraying the confidence in his words.
“Am I?” I ask, tilting my head, a smirk playing on my lips. “Because you’re not walking away, Griffin. You’re standing here, arguing with me, and you can’t even deny it.”
Before he can respond, I take a step forward, closing the space between us, and push him back against the wall.
My right hand presses firmly against the wall next to his head, pinning him in place, while my other hand trails down his torso.
I can feel the tension in his body, the rigid muscles beneath my fingers as I move slowly, deliberately.
His breath hitches in his throat, and for a moment, he doesn’t move. I can hear his heartbeat quicken, the sound almost deafening in the otherwise silent hallway. His dark eyes lock onto mine, burning with a mix of frustration, anger, and something else—something raw and unspoken.
“You’re full of it,” Hayes says, his voice low and strained, but the waver in it betrays him. He’s trying to stay in control, but I can feel the cracks forming, the tension vibrating between us like a live wire.
“Am I?” I murmur, leaning in closer, so close I can feel the warmth of his breath on my skin. “Then tell me to stop, Hayes. If you really don’t want this, say the word.”
His jaw tightens, and for a second, I think he might shove me away, might say something to break the moment. But he doesn’t. Instead, his gaze flickers, moving down to my lips for the briefest second before snapping back to my eyes.
I trail my hand down to the waistband of his pants, eyes locked on his.
He’s already hard, straining against the tight fabric, and a small smirk curls my lips as I palm him through the fabric.
He lets out a quiet groan, head tipping back against the wall, eyes squeezed shut like he’s trying to hold himself together.
I lean in, my mouth brushing his ear.
“Why don’t you just admit it, Hayes?” I murmur. “You and I both know if I gave you the green light, you’d tear off my clothes and fuck me right here, right now.”
I nip at his earlobe, slow and teasing.
“Tell me you don’t think about me every night when you’re alone, touching yourself. You know you do.”
My palm presses harder against his length, feeling him throb beneath my hand.
“Do you like that?” I whisper, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze. His eyes are dark—clouded with lust and something deeper. Raw. Dangerous.
Hayes bites down on his bottom lip, a low, needy sound escaping his throat.
“Now imagine me on my knees,” I whisper, dragging a single finger down the rigid outline of his cock, “with my mouth wrapped around you.”
Then I pull away, all at once—no more teasing, no more smirk. Just a sharp, cold look that replaces the heat in my eyes with pure irritation.
“You and I are done, Hayes. Don’t fucking talk to me, don’t fucking look at me. And acting all jealous because of Zach, that’s just low,” I say, my voice sharp, cutting through the tension between us like a knife.
“Jealous?” Hayes scoffs, peeling himself away from the wall. “You think I give a shit about what goes on between you and Zach? I don’t even care if you’re fucking him.”
“Of course, you do,” I smirk at him as I turn to walk away, the irritation bubbling in my chest. “That’s why you’re so worked up right now. You literally just popped a vein.”
“Real mature, Miller,” Hayes snaps, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he glares at me, but I can see the tension in his posture, the way his hands curl into fists like he’s holding himself back.
“Good talk, Griffin. See you in detention, you spineless piece of shit!” I call out, my voice loud enough to echo down the hallway.
Anger simmers beneath my skin, a heat that refuses to fade as I turn away from him.
My steps are quick, my breathing uneven, even though a part of me—some frustrating, unrelenting part—feels jittery for no goddamn reason.
I tell myself it’s because I’m pissed off, because Hayes knows exactly how to get under my skin. But deep down, I know that’s not it.
It’s because Hayes, without even saying the words, just told me I have him wrapped around my fingers.
The way he looked at me, the way he reacted to my touch—it wasn’t just frustration.
It was something deeper, something he doesn’t even realize he’s showing.
And that knowledge twists inside me, making my pulse race and my head spin.
I don’t want to think about it. I don’t want to feel whatever this is creeping up my chest. But as much as I hate it, it’s there, undeniable and impossible to shake.
I clench my fists, forcing myself to focus on the anger instead, on the sharp bite of our exchange and the satisfaction of leaving him standing there, probably seething and worked up. But even that satisfaction feels hollow.
Because as much as I’d like to believe this is over, I know it’s not. Not even close.