Chapter Twenty-Six: Meet Philip Kavanagh

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            Three weeks later

            “So are you free this afternoon?” Ian asked, looking down at me eagerly.

            I laughed. “You know I’m always free. I mean, I always spend time with you.”

            He grinned. “Just checking. You sure your friends don’t mind?”

            I smiled. Oh hell, they don’t even mind that I’m practically with Ian everyday. But it’s not like we aren’t seeing each other anymore. Sometimes, when I stay at my house with Ian, Vince and Suzanne are there. And sometimes, when I stay at Ian’s place, Evan and Miranda are there.

            “Oh, you know they don’t mind at all,” I said dismissively. “It’s not like their not happy without me. I think they’re happy and contented with their lives.”

            “Speaking of happy and contented…” he began and stopped walking.

            I also stopped walking and raised an eyebrow at Ian. He just grinned mischievously at me and then grabbed my wrist, dragging me inside a vacant room on his left. I gave out a gasp of surprise because of the sudden move and Ian chuckled. He closed the door behind him and opened the lights on the very, very small room. But when I looked around my surroundings, I realized it wasn’t a room. It was a janitor’s closet, like the ones they use to keep brooms, mops and those things.

            “What the hell, Ian?” I grumbled.

            “What? I didn’t know it was the janitor’s room—or closet, whatever,” he said, waving a hand dismissively. Then he smiled at me seductively. “There’s only one thing I want to do.”

            “Oh no, you don’t,” I warned him as I took a step backward. Unfortunately, my back met the wall and I groaned. Damn this stupid janitor’s room. Closet. Whichever.

            “What? I’m your boyfriend,” he said innocently.

            “Still. You need to ask my permission.”

            “Oh I know you enjoy my kisses, Victoria. So why complain?”

            I opened my mouth to retort, but instead, Ian kissed my lips softly. On instinct, I kissed him back, both my legs wrapping around his waist, pressing him closer to me and not letting him go ever again.

            Ian pressed me harder on the wall as he deepened the kiss. One second the kiss was all so gentle and soft; the next, hungry and needy.

            I didn’t know how long we just stayed there, making out. But I can’t think of anything else. The only person that matters to me is the one who was kissing the life out of me. The person who made me feel like I’m the only girl in the world. The person who made me feel like I’m the most beautiful and perfect girl.

            Then the bell rang.                                                                                                

            Ian pulled out from the kiss and then pressed his forehead to mine. We were gasping for breath—obviously, the kiss made us breathless. Then I placed my feet on the floor again. Ian kissed my lips briefly before opening the door and stepping outside the room (or closet).

            “That was… awesome,” I said, blushing slightly as I closed the door behind me.

            Yeah, Ian and I make out but the early make out we just did was different from others. It was hungrier, needier. It was perfect.

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