Page 3 of Fighting the Forbidden

“Are there any Band-Aids around?” Her voice seems to come from far away and I sway on my feet.

“Yeah.” I open my eyes and stare at the beat-up white metal cabinet next to the sink. “There should be something in there.”

“Go shower.” She presses both of her palms against my chest and lightly pushes. “I’ll take care of the cut when you’re done.”

She turns toward the cabinet. The metal door creaks as she pries it open. Standing on her tiptoes, she reaches for the top shelf. The movement lifts her shirt, baring the skin above the waistband of her jeans.

I squeeze my eyes shut.

“First-aid kit,” she announces. Something metallic clanks against the porcelain.

“Can’t tell you if there’s anything in it.” I open my eyes. She’s at the sink, head bowed, fiddling with the rusty lock on the kit. Her long, shiny brown ponytail reaches the small of her back. The urge to wrap it around my fist seizes me.

Don’t you fucking dare.

“It’s stuck,” she mutters.

I’d help her open it, but I need to put some distance between us for a few minutes. Get myself under control.

“I trust you to figure it out.” Without taking my eyes off of her, I reach into my open locker and grab my towel. “I’ll be back.”

“I’ll be waiting,” she answers.

I’m more eager to get back to her than I have any right to be.

Molly

I wish I had the type of confidence the ring girls have. One of them would strip down and follow Griff into the shower. Or surprise him once he’d been in there for a few minutes. If I were braver, I’d pull the curtain back, startling him, and then he’d realize I was standing there wearing nothing but a smile and offer to wash my back.

That’s how the fantasy plays in my head.

In reality, the water starts up, the curtain makes that screechy sound as it’s pushed aside to accommodate Griff’s big body, and I stay right where I am. Playing with a bunch of Band-Aids that look like they’ve been sitting in this rusty tin since before I was born.

Is Griff using body wash or a plain bar of soap?

I couldn’t get naked in front of him, could I? No. He’d probably laugh in my face, throw a towel at me, and tell me to cover myself.

A tap on my shoulder startles me so hard, I jump, throwing little yellowing packets of Band-Aids everywhere.

I’ve been so lost in figuring out the mechanics of soaping up my brother’s best friend, I never heard the shower stop.

“What’d you scare me for?” I scoop the scattered Band-Aids out of the sink.

He’s wearing a lopsided grin and not much else. Nothing but a thin red towel wrapped around his hips hides his skin from my curious eyes.

I’ve been witness to Griff shirtless plenty of times, but this whole-body tingling reaction is a new development.

I’ve known him since I was little. What feels like my whole life, really. He’s my favorite person in the world besides my brother.

He’s also a man now. Nothing like the boys I go to school with. He’s cut and muscled in all the right places. Ruthless perfection honed from years of fighting, hard work, and pure survival.

The innocent crush on him I’ve nursed since kindergarten flipped to inappropriate a few years ago. Unfortunately, he still only sees me as a little sister. Probably always will.

This attraction is plain cruel. Even if he wanted me, I couldn’t have him. He’d never do anything to piss off my brother. And Remy’s made it clear many, many times his friends aren’t allowed to date me.

“Didn’t mean to startle you,” Griff says, and I cringe. Was it obvious that I was checking out his body? “What were you thinking about?”

“N-nothing,” I stammer. My traitorous cheeks heat, blushing hard enough to advertise exactly what smutty daydreams were dancing around in my head.

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