CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE | intimacy

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A/N: And the LONGEST CHAPTER OF THE BOOK award goes to... drumroll please... THE FUCKING! A round of applause for the fucking. Of course no one is surprised.

Oh, PS. Both hands on your phone, yall nasties. I want my comment section FLOODED as proof that your fingers are being chaste and righteous. Don't make me toss a bible / qur'an / torah / insert-scripture-of-your-choice at your cute faces @TheOfficialHolyWater xoxo Ami

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CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE | intimacy

BENSON'S LEASH JINGLES down the hallway towards Connor's apartment

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BENSON'S LEASH JINGLES down the hallway towards Connor's apartment.

Olivia and her parents got back from Canmore late last night, and Connor was working the entire day, as most people tend to do on Mondays, whether they like it or not. The last time Olivia was here, she left in tears, but she has too much affection and anticipation bubbling up right now to sink into those sad feelings. Her insides are a hooting, hollering, clawing, fluttering menagerie of nervous excitement as she raps softly on Connor's door.

It swings open and her heart pitches into her throat. "Let's go, Benson," she commands her service dog. They push through the threshold. Olivia can feel the pressure of Connor's steady presence in front of her. "Hey," she greets. Her smile is big and bright and sunny — she couldn't dampen it down to overcast even if she tried.

"Hey." Mm... low and gritty. Her body is already flickering and he hasn't even touched her yet. "And who's this guy?" His voice goes goopy in that cutesy way voices always do around dogs or babies or baby-dogs.

"One sec," Olivia tells him. "He's working. Lemme take off his harness and then you can say hi."

She gets Benson to sit back on his haunches and unclips the straps until he's free. Then she gives him a cheerful, fluffy hug and Connor kneels down to give his head a good scratch, too. Connor's knees brush hers. With humour in his voice, he teases, "Where's my hug, huh?"

She practically lunges at him. They both go toppling to the tile. He's sprawled on his back and her legs are hooked around his middle and she's kissing him, deep and wet, her fingers sifting through his hair, his thumb caressing fervently along her jawbone. Benson yips exuberantly and gives Connor's forehead a juicy lick. Their kiss breaks into laughter.

Connor uses his wrist to wipe away the slobber, then presses his lips to the bridge of Olivia's nose. "Missed you," he murmurs.

She nuzzles her face into the crook of his neck. "Missed you so much," she whispers. She wiggles further into his grasp and Connor groans beneath her, his hands catching onto her hips. Her pastel-blue sundress pools around them and the denim of his jeans scruffs her bare legs.

"I wanted to ask you about your trip," he grunts, "But you're making it really hard to think right now, Liv." She giggles. Her nose burrows into the pitted space behind his earlobe, and she sucks in his smell, salt and cologne, distinctly Connor. It's the smell of bone-deep hugs and slow kisses and racing heartbeats.

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