Page 23 of Sweet Boys Love Christmas
Then Luke emerges.
Bare-chested.
Wet.
In only a towel.
I squeeze my thighs together. It’s been so long since I’ve had anything other than my vibrator, and my body is reminding me of that fact right now.
“Hey,” he says. “I, uh, I forgot to grab my sleep clothes.”
All I can do is blink up at him and watch as a droplet of water runs down his pec and over his abs. When I force my focus back to his face, he breaks out in a slow grin.
“Bertie, I need to get around you.”
“Oh.” I swallow. “Right.” On shaky legs, I step aside. “I was coming to brush my teeth. Do you have any spare toothbrushes?”
“Under the sink,” he answers with his back to me as he pulls clothes out of the dresser.
Before I get caught staring again, I spin and lock myself in the bathroom. Though I’m engulfed in his scent—not only from his t-shirt now, but his soap as well—I force myself to ignore the way it makes my pulse race. I do my business, then brush my teeth with the new toothbrush I found right where he said it would be and the toothpaste that rests on the sink.
The hall is dark when I step out and tiptoe toward the family room, where Luke is laying a sheet over the couch cushions.
“Thanks for the toothbrush.”
He looks up, a blanket clasped in his hands. “It’s no problem.”
I wring my fingers together and swallow past the lump in my throat. “Well, good night, I guess.”
I don’t know what makes me add theI guesspart.
He smiles, amusement in his eyes. “Good night, B.”
I give an awkward wave—because of course I do—and make my way back to his room.
With the TV on for background noise, I climb into his bed. His mattress is soft, worn in like it’s made to curve around his much bigger body. It’s like I’m lying in a hole, but it’s comforting, soothing, being enveloped like this.
Despite how good it feels, I’m plagued with guilt, because while I’m in here, he’s crammed onto that small couch. There’s no way he actually fits. And as much as I long for his company right now, I can’t bring myself to text him and ask him to sleep—only sleep—in here with me.
I’m too afraid of being rejected.
SIX
LUKE
Luke
I’ve been staringat the ceiling for what has to be a couple of hours. I’ve refused to check the time, though, so I can’t be certain.
Normally, I have no problem with sleep. I’m usually worn out from school and practice, so by the time my head hits the pillow, I’m out.
My struggle tonight has nothing to do with being on the couch and everything to do with the woman in my bed.
I press the heels of my hands to my eyes.
Just friends.She doesn’t want more than that.
Fuck, is it hard to think that way when she looks at me the way she did several times tonight. Her eyes full of heat, her cheeks pink. She wants me, that’s obvious. But she’s afraid of commitment. And after her ex, how can I blame her?
