Page 14 of Full Split
"You're ridiculous," I say, unwrapping it and placing it in his hand. "Don't drown in here. I'm going next door. Your dad left his sandwich in our bag."
Weston hums, and I know I probably won't see him again for the rest of the night unless I need to pee again. He'll stay in here until well past whenever I fall asleep, until he's shriveled up and wrinkly like a raisin. The whole room will smell like his bubble bath for the next two days.
Leaving him to it, I pick up Wyatt's sandwich and stare at the wall that separates our rooms. I pace a little, hesitating over whether I've pushed him enough today.
Nah, this is fine. A little excitement will be good for him. And me.Us.It'll be good forus.
Quickly, I change into a pair of sweatpants and a tank top, deciding at the last minute to put my packer in. For confidence.
A minute later, I'm knocking on Wyatt's door, heart hammering but trying to look casual in case he's looking through the peephole. When the door opens, he's standing there in nothingbut basketball shorts, all curves and golden skin. I rake my eyes over him slowly. He must have just gotten out of the shower. His hair is wet, and there are small droplets of water on his shoulders still. I want to lick them off and nuzzle my face into his damp chest hair.
Blinking my way back up to his face, I realize he's looking at me, too. I can practically feel his eyes track down my bare arms, the wide arms of my tank top showing off my torso. It's so thin and the armholes are so wide, it's barely a shirt. His eyes roam all the way down to my bare feet, then back up to my eyes.
I step forward under the guise of handing him his sandwich, and he surprisingly doesn't move back. The air between us practically vibrates. Is he letting me get close, or is he blocking me from stepping further inside?
"You forgot this," I say. "I thought you might be hungry."
"Thanks." His voice is tight. Every inch of him is tight. Like a giant rubber band that might snap.
Please snap. Snap all over me…
I take another step forward. He reaches for the sandwich, but I don’t release it. We stand there, holding on to either end of a plastic wrapped ham and Swiss sub and staring at each other.
Another step forward. He takes a step back, but only to give me room, not to move away. I step just inside the threshold of the door, close enough that I have to look up at him. There's a flicker of hunger in his expression that has me wetting my lips. His eyes track the movement, and my heart rate increases. Even my teeth are pulsing, aching to press against him. The door closes painfully slowly, latching with a softsnick.
Slowly, I reach out and press my hand to his bare chest. It's solid beneath the layer of soft, hot flesh. The brush of his chest hair against my fingertips makes me shiver.
"Niles…"
His tone is a warning, wrapped in restraint. It's almost pained. I watch his throat as he swallows, then trace my eyes down his torso again. It'd be impossible not to notice the evidence that I definitely affect him. His shorts are tented, his bulge pointing right at me.
God, yes please…
I clear my throat. "You know," I say, trying to sound casual and failing. "I could help you with that."
Wyatt chuckles, but it's strained. "You're going to get me in trouble."
"Maybe," I murmur. "But it'd be fun."
The moment stretches between us. My hand slowly slides down his sternum. So, so slowly. Too slowly, because it gives him enough time to cover my hand with his. Even though it's not the contact I was looking for, it still tingles everywhere.
He's not saying no exactly. Not moving away. His hand is barely on mine, pressing it against his skin. I could keep moving it.
I look up and meet his hazel eyes, darkened and blazing with lust but also clearly conflicted. I don’t want him to be conflicted. I want him to feel how right this is.
"I need you to go back to your room, Niles," he says finally, but the tone of his voice betrays him. It's low and rough but tender. As though he hates saying it but feels like he has to.
"I know you want me," I whisper. "I'd be so good for you."
He doesn't deny it. He stares down at me for another long, tense moment before he steps back. The tension radiates off him as he releases my hand and turns away.
"Go Niles," he says gently. "Get some sleep."
I nod, slowly retreating. My eyes don't leave his until I've backed out of the room completely and the door closes, blocking my view.
Back in my room, I flop down on the bed, heart racing, skin electric.
He wants me too.
