Page 59 of One Little Lie
He turns around so fast he nearly smacks his face on the wall. “Right,” he growls.
Opening the tarp, I see it’s still drizzling out. “Well, nothing like a little rain shower.” Grabbing my shampoo, conditioner, and body wash, I tell Hatty to turn around so I can strip.
Like a gentleman, he faces the wall, but I can tell every muscle in his body is wound tight. He’s mumbling under his breath, and I almost laugh but decide not to tease him. Until he’s willing to tell me why he’s so adamant about being just friends, there isn’t much I can do.
After placing a towel on the edge of the platform, I jump down and make a mad dash for the outdoor shower, completely naked. At least the stall offers a little coverage. I’m short enough that the teak wall will cover the important things, but running back and forth, knowing anyone could pull up, is an adrenaline rush I could do without.
The storm is finally on its last legs, so it’s just a light drizzle mixing with the shower water, but it does nothing to cool my overheated body. Freaking Hatty has my lower anatomy throbbing every second of the freaking day, so I spend a little more time than necessary soaping up. It’s the only space we have from each other, and I need the distance to get my head on right.
“Friends,” I grumble. “How the hell can I be friends with the only man who has ever owned my heart?” Placing my face in the spray of the showerhead, I let out my frustration. It feels good to yell. To get out this energy I have no other outlet for. I didn’t think about what Hatty would think of it, though, and before I know it, he’s standing on the other side of the shower. Fear in his bright blue eyes. Bright blue eyes that cloud with lust as they drift down over the top of the shower walls.
“Aggh,” I screech when I notice him.
Our eyes plead with each other, and he finally forces out words. “What’s wrong? Why did you scream?”
The drizzle has stopped or slowed so much it’s just a light mist now as he stands there, staring at me. Unadulterated lust exposed in his open expression.
Realizing why he’s standing there, my face heats in embarrassment.
“Rylan.” His voice is harsh. Demanding. Sexy. He takes a step forward, and I see his throat working. “Are you hurt?”
My eyes are wide and unblinking as I shake my head. In the recesses of my mind, I hear someone telling me I should be covering my naked body, but the directive doesn’t quite register as I stand there staring at the man I want more than my next breath.
“Why did you yell?”
“Ah.” A nervous giggle escapes, and I’m suddenly that seventeen-year-old girl about to get naked with the boy I love for the first time. Except I’m naked. He’s standing there confused, but when I glance down, I see his erection pressing firmly against his shorts, and it’s my turn to gulp. “Umm, frustration?”Was that squeaky voice mine?The urge to look behind me is so great I have to physically force my eyes to stay on him. “I, ah …” Yup. That’s my voice, all right.
“Frustration?” he moans, staring at the sky. He plants one hand low on his hips and another at the back of his neck. “Frustration is a fucker. I’ll, well, I’ll let you finish.”
He backs away without looking at me.
“Hatty?”
He pauses, and glances down at me, but my focus is on his crotch.Get your shit together, Rylan.
“Rylan.” My name is a plea, and I snap my attention to his face. “Friends.”
One word that has me whimpering in protest.
“Mhm. Friends.”
“Okay. I’ll see you inside.”
I nod because if I speak, there will be no hiding the hurt in my voice. Turning my back, I put my face to the shower spray again and let my tears mix with the water until it runs cold.
* * *
“I’m so fucking bored.”
Hatty’s voice startles me out of the book I’m reading on my phone. I really shouldn’t be reading romance novels when I’m so sexually frustrated I could combust, but freaking Melanie Moreland just had to go and release her next book today. Her stories are like my own personal crack, and I’m powerless to avoid them.
“What are you reading?”
“Ahh.” My voice is unsteady. Melanie’s freaking hero is doing a number on me, and I can’t think straight. “Umm, it’s calledAge of Ava.”
“Is it good?”
“Really good.” Jesus. Could I sound any more wanton? This is why you read Melanie’s books in private. A sexy as sin audience will not end well for me.
