Page 38 of Make Me Mean It

Marcus laughs again.

Connor’s lips move against my palm, and I press my hand more firmly over them and lower my head.

“Unless you want your brother opening that door, stop fucking talking.”

“Knox?”

Marcus.

Connor tries to shove me off, his body driving forward into mine, and my hand clamps down on his hip, pushing him back against the tile.

“Yeah,” I call, forcing my voice even while Connor fights me beneath my hands.

Fucking normal. Sound fucking normal.

His eyes burn into mine over my palm, chest rising quickly between us, and I lower my head until my mouth is beside his ear.

“Stop fucking moving,” I breathe. “He’s not coming in.”

Connor goes still, but the glare only gets worse.

I have to bite down on the inside of my cheek.

This is fucking insane.

Marcus is ten feet away while I’ve got his little brother trapped against the shower wall with one hand over his mouth, the other around his hip, whispering into his ear that he needs to stop moving.

There is absolutely no version of this that gets better if that door opens.

The door rattles against my back, and Connor jolts beneath me, knocking into my chest before my hand at his hip presses him firmly back against the tile.

“Thought you already left?” Marcus calls from the other side.

I lower my forehead to the tile beside Connor’s head and breathe slowly through my nose, feeling the door shift against my back when Marcus tries it again.

“I got caught up.”

I turn my head as I say it and find Connor already looking at me, those blue eyes fixed on mine from barely inches away.

For once, neither of us looks away.

His breath moves warm against my palm, each exhale slipping between my fingers while his chest rises against mine, the front of my hoodie soft where our bodies are pressed together. He’s still tense beneath my hand, but he isn’t fighting me anymore, and the longer he looks at me, the less attention I have left for the door at my back or Marcus standing on the other side of it.

Connor swallows, his lips moving against the centre of my palm, and my eyes drop straight to his mouth.

His gaze follows mine, settling on my lips, and for one long second I stay there with my hand over his mouth and his body trapped beneath mine, watching his eyes darken as the silence stretches between us.

Marcus laughs outside.

The sound hits me like cold water, and I tear my gaze away, turning towards the door while my teeth close around my lip ring.

The door shifts against my back again before Marcus’s palm lands heavily against it, the frame creaking as he finally pushes himself upright.

“Well, hurry up. We’re heading out for food.”

His footsteps disappear into the noise of the locker room before I can answer, his voice swallowed by someone else shouting across the benches.

Connor sags against me.