Page 122 of If You Claim Me
Tally
I have dance practice. Miss you.Sending my love!
Lexi
I’m in.
Dred
I wish I could, but proposals are calling my name. Eat some potato skins in my honor!
A new message pops up from Lexi in our private chat.
Lexi
You’ve been working on proposals for days. No pressure either way, but are you sure you can’t take a little break?
Dred
I’m almost finished. Maybe later this week, though?
Lexi
Okay. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.
Dred
Thank you. I appreciate you.
I toss my phone on the desk in the library at Grace Manor and flop back in the chair, removing my glasses so I can rub my tired eyes. Even if I hand over everything in my bank account, almost every program I have will have to be cut after this loss of funding. I’ve been scrambling since we got the news, and it’s been a full-time job creating proposals for all of them. There’s no guarantee the committee will see the value in them.
I haven’t said anything to Connor. If he pushes, I’ll tell him everything, and then his already tumultuous relationship with his family will be even more strained. I worry about the ripple effect on Meems, and his sisters.
Last night when he came home, we spent time with Meems, and then I dragged him straight to bed. I needed the escape and the connection. It seemed like he needed it just as much. And sexis a great way to keep our mouths and bodies busy and away from difficult topics.
My head is a mess, and my heart is already way too involved.
Two hours and another finished proposal later, Connor appears in the library. “I thought I’d find you in here.” He’s fresh from practice, dark hair styled and wearing a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved Henley, sleeves pushed up his forearms revealing a sliver of the story on his skin. He looks like he stepped out of an advertisement. He’s also carrying takeout.
I close my laptop. “Just taking care of some work things.”
“Still playing catch-up?”
“Yeah.” I smile, but it feels stiff.
“You seem stressed.” He sets the takeout on the desk, eyes moving over me.
“Work can be that way this time of year.”
“Can I do anything to help?”
I reach for him, and he comes to me.
His palms curve around the armrests, and he leans down until our lips touch. “Besides distract you with kisses.” He backs up, brows pulling together. “Or maybe it’s you distracting me.”
The problem with letting him in is that eventually he’ll be able to read me in ways that will make it hard to hide things from him. I run my nails along his scalp, something I know he loves. “Did you bring me my favorites?”
“I did. Although they’re my favorites, too.”
