Loose boy

Claire

There was silence for a while after my question, my pulse still racing. 

Connor was motionless for a long moment, then pushed himself up and started pacing the room. His steps were measured but tense, hands flexing at his sides like he was trying to work through something heavy. 

Finally, he turned to face me with a serious look that made my heart kick up even faster. I held my breath, wondering if he was finally going to open up.

Then he smiled, that small, familiar curve of his lips that always threw me off balance. 

He leaned in and pressed a gentle peck to my forehead “Go to sleep, Claire,” he said softly.

He turned and started to leave, but I reached out on instinct and grabbed his hand. The pull was harder than I meant it to be. 

Fate must have been laughing because he lost his balance and fell forward, landing right on top of me. His chest pressed firmly against my breasts, the solid weight of him sending an immediate rush through my body. 

I could feel every inch of him, the heat, the muscle, and damn it, my nipples tightened instantly against him. My heart pounded so hard I was sure he could hear it.

He stared down at me, eyes darkening. “Claire, you’re playing a dangerous game with me right now, and I don’t like it,” he confessed, his voice honest and strained.

I swallowed hard as guilt slammed into me, sharp and uncomfortable. This was my best friend, the one person I shouldn't mess with. 

Using him like this felt wrong on every level. But then another thought pushed through, overriding the guilt. 

If I wanted real answers, this might be my only shot. Connor had never been able to resist a woman who knew how to push the right buttons, especially not one under a skirt.

I licked my lips slowly seductively, and gave him a small smile. “Well, I’ll make you like it,” I said, my voice lower than usual. 

My hands moved nervously at first, then more deliberately as I traced them up his back, feeling the muscles tense under my fingers. I watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, and satisfaction flickered through me. 

It was working.

“Claire, don’t do this please. I have zero resistance for this, you know that,” he said, the words coming out like a struggle. He tried to push himself up, but I hooked my arms around him and pulled him back down, slamming my lips against his in a hard kiss. 

He went still for a heartbeat, surprised, but then he grabbed me, hands gripping my sides as he devoured my mouth right back. The kiss turned fierce, hungry, and I felt it everywhere. His hands moved over my body, sliding down to my waist, strong and sure. 

He broke away from my lips and trailed hot kisses down my neck and across my shoulder, sucking lightly at the sensitive skin there.

I shut my eyes tight, trying desperately to hold in the moan rising in my throat, but it slipped out anyway, low and breathy. God, it felt good—too good. Even my wolf stirred inside me, practically dancing with joy at the contact, the connection. 

No, this shouldn’t cross that line. It couldn’t. I needed answers, not to lose myself here with Connor. I reached down and caught his hand just as it started drifting lower toward my ass, pausing his exploration.

“If you tell me what I need to know, Connor, I swear you’ll have all of me. No strings attached,” I whispered, my voice steady despite the heat still pulsing through me.

He looked at me for a long moment, his expression almost helpless in a way I’d never seen before. It twisted something deep in my chest. 

“Claire—” he started, but I cut him off before he could finish.

“It’s not hard, Connor. Just tell me. I want you too. You take what you want, I take what I want. You’re my best friend, after all,” I said, keeping my tone light but persuasive, my hands still resting on his waist.

His jaw tightened visibly. Then he did something that completely surprised me. He leaned down and kissed my cheek, soft and almost tender, before gently removing my hands from around him waist. He stood up, putting clear space between us, his breathing still a little rough.

“I know you might probably see me as some fuck-loose fuckboy surgeon who can’t control his dick around women, but don’t do this again. I’d rather have a knife stab me than see you use yourself for your own advantage.” 

The words dropped in the air between us, leaving my stomach in knots as I lay there staring up at him. The guilt I’d tried to push aside came rushing back full force, mixing with the lingering heat on my skin and the questions I still desperately needed answered. 

Connor’s eyes held mine for another beat disappointed in a way that cut deeper than any argument ever had. I opened my mouth to say something—anything—but nothing came out. The silence stretched and I wondered if I’d just ruined the one relationship I could always count on. My wolf whined inside me, unsettled.

I hope I haven't pissed him off.

I sat up slowly, pulling my shirt back into place, the fabric suddenly feeling too tight against my flushed skin. 

“Connor, I…” I started, but the words stuck. What could I even say? Sorry for throwing myself at you to manipulate information? Sorry I know exactly how to push your buttons because we’ve been close for years? 

My cheeks burned in another haze of embarrassment, damn you Claire!

I looked down at my hands instead, tracing a faint scar on my knuckle from some old fight I barely remembered. My body still hummed from his touch—the way his mouth had felt on my neck, the firm press of his hands, the way he’d responded before pulling back. It had been real for a moment, and that scared me more than anything.

He let out a long breath, running a hand through his hair. “You don’t have to explain right now. Just… don’t do that again. Atleast not with me.” His voice was quieter now, less sharp but edged with a hidden hurt. 

I nodded, swallowing past the lump in my throat. 

I reached out tentativelyjust to touch his arm. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, meaning it more than I had anything else tonight. “I shouldn’t have gone too far.”

He didn’t pull away from my touch, but he didn’t lean into it either. His eyes searched my face for a long second, like he was looking for the real me underneath the manipulation. Whatever he saw made his expression tighten again. 

The silence stretched once more. Part of me hoped he’d sit down and talk anyway, give me the answers without the games. Another part feared what those answers might cost us both. 

“Get some rest,” he said eventually, echoing his earlier words but with heavier weight now. “We can talk in the morning if you still need to.”