Page 54 of Collide
“Thanks,” he says, then disappears—only to come back shirtless, wearing nothing but gray sweats and a towel around his neck, holding out a fresh change of clothes like it’s no big deal.
I freeze.
Time seems to stop as I take him in—his sculpted physique, broad shoulders, and defined abs impossible to ignore. He’s in incredible shape and moves with an effortless confidence, completely unaware of the effect he has on me.
I gulp. Speechless.
“You can change in my room if you’d like,” he suggests, like he hasn’t short-circuited my brain.
My mouth goes dry, and I nod. Clutching the clothes like a lifeline, I escape before I make a fool of myself.
Inside his bedroom, my gaze drifts across his space. A sleek king-size bed with charcoal gray sheets. Minimal decor, but undeniably manly. It’s exactly what I would have pictured for him.
Trying not to let my thoughts wander, I peel off my wet clothes, slipping into the warmth of the fresh set he gave me. The softest gray shirt and shorts, which feel like butter on my skin. As I towel my hair dry, something catches my eye: a dresser lined with carefully arranged personal items.
A few framed photographs.
One in particular holds my attention. A snapshot of Alex on a beach with two friends, his blond hair ruffled, his smile wide and unguarded.
It’s a version of him I haven’t seen yet.
Young, carefree.
I linger a moment longer before I join him in the living space. He’s in the kitchen, boiling water.
“Tea?” he asks, glancing over his shoulder.
“Please,” I murmur, stepping closer. “And…thanks for the clothes.”
Watching him move, every flex of muscle pulls at something low in me. I long to feel his touch—the hug from yesterday, the kiss we shared earlier, the way his hands held me like he couldn’t help it. My heart flutters against my ribs. Before I can stop myself, I slip behind him, arms circling his waist. I press my cheek to the heat of his bare back. His skin hums undermine. The ache quiets.
His body tenses slightly before relaxing into my touch.
I breathe him in as a deep hum vibrates through him. His large hand finds my wrist, his thumb tracing a slow, lazy circle over my skin.
“Shame about the rain,” he muses.
“I figured you planned it, getting me here, wet and undressed.”
His chest shakes with laughter. Then, in one swift motion, he turns and lifts me onto the counter with ease.
A surprised squeal escapes me, my hands flying to his shoulders. He steps between my legs, filling every inch of space between us, his palms resting firm against my thighs.
Our eyes lock.
His stormy gray gaze mirrors the downpour outside—wild, intense, brewing with something seductive.
A silent understanding passes between us.
His fingers brush a loose strand of hair behind my ear before he nuzzles into my neck, his breath warm against my skin.
“That’s exactly right.” His voice is low, rough, dripping with intent.
A sharp thrill rushes through me, heat unfurling in my stomach.
Kiss me.
Then—
