Josh
The kiss explodes between us, weeks of tension igniting like a match to gasoline. My hands find her waist as her fingers twist in my hair, pulling me closer. The hallway suddenly feels too exposed, too public.
I break away just long enough to spot a utility door a few feet down. Without thinking, I sweep her up, one arm under her knees, the other supporting her back. She gasps against my mouth, surprised but not protesting as I carry her toward the door.
"Josh, what are you—"
I silence her with another kiss, fumbling behind me for the doorknob. It gives way, and we stumble into darkness—a cramped janitor's closet filled with the scent of cleaning supplies and dust.
I kick the door shut behind us, setting Hailey down but keeping her pressed against me. In the dim light filtering through the crack beneath the door, I can just make out her face—flushed, eyes wide, lips parted.
"I've wanted to do this all day," I whisper, my voice rough with need.
