Page 54 of His Secret

We continue talking, conversations about people from our past, and whether we know what happened to them or not. Before long, we’re in the hallway, leading to our suite.

“I’m gonna shower,” I tell him as soon as we walk in.

“Me too. I’ve sweated gallons today.”

I snort. “I’ll probably be back out in the living area afterward.”

“Okay.”

I don’t know why I told him that. To warn him I’ll be in a shared space? To hopefully have him join me?

The shower is refreshing, and once I’m out, I dry myself off and rub in some lotion. In my room, I grab a pair of boxer-briefs and step inside them before pulling up a pair of dark heather joggers, finishing with a plain white T-shirt.

I run a hand through my wet hair and head into the living room. Adrian’s already on the couch, nestled into the corner of the sectional, his legs stretched across the cushions. He lounges in a loose tank top and basketball shorts. He’s got the TV on, but he’s on his phone.

“Hey,” he says, looking over at me and then doing a double take. He sits up, putting his feet on the floor. “Wasn’t sure what to put on.”

“I’m not worried about it,” I say, heading to the fridge to grab a bottle of water. I hold it up. “Want one?”

“Yeah. Feeling a little dehydrated.”

I walk over and toss him one before settling into the cushion on the opposite side. Uncapping the bottle, I look to my left to stare at the view of the Strip below us.

“Well, look at us,” I say after swallowing down a gulp. “Who would’ve thought we’d be here together?”

He gives me an uncomfortable smile. “There was a time when I thought we’d go everywhere together.”

“Me too, but we can’t change the past, can we?”

After a few seconds he says, “No, we can’t change anything. Not the past, not our previous choices?—”

“Not who we are,” I add with a pointed stare.

He swallows. “There are lots of things we can’t change, but we can learn to make smarter choices. We can strive to be better.”

I nod once, my eyes trained on him.

He looks so good. His arms are toned and muscular, his thighs peek out from under his shorts when he moves, and his lips hypnotize me, making me remember every place they’ve been on my body.

“Well, in keeping with making smart and better decisions, I guess I should go to my room,” I say, standing up.

Adrian looks up at me, and my god, I can only imagine the look on his face if he were on the floor, at my feet, not a scrap of clothing on either one of us.

“Oh.” He stands. “I guess we have an early morning.”

I nod. “Yeah.”

“Would it…” he pauses, chewing on his lip as he scratches the back of his neck. “Is it weird to ask for a hug?”

My chest expands and warms, my stupid heart thumping against my ribs. It’s not weird. Not at all. I’ve been around him again for months and we’ve yet to hug. I can’t say I haven’t also thought about what it would feel like to have him in my arms again.

“No,” I say, tossing my water bottle on the couch. “It’s not weird.”

We each take two steps to get to one another, and then we’re embracing.

It’s not a typical friendly hug—one that’s brief andwithout any feelings. It’s not an awkward, one-armed side hug either. We’re body to body, not worried about keeping our hips pushed back to keep from touching.

His arms are under mine, wrapped around my back, while I snake mine around his shoulders. Our faces touch as we each nestle into the other person’s neck. He inhales my scent as my lips brush against his skin. It takes everything in me to keep from actually kissing him.

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