Page 49 of Fragile

“Good at putting ice on ankles?”

“Well, it’s more than that. You should major in physiology.”

I laugh, assuming she’s joking. “I am.”

Her mouth drops open. “Since when?”

“Since this year. I picked Sports Medicine and Exercise Physiology.” I let the smirk break free on my lips as I look up at her. “I’m really good at icing ankles, see, so I figured it’s a safe bet.”

“Ha ha, you think you’re funny.”

“Hilarious, actually.”

She snorts and then winces, her eyes fluttering, when the ice pack shifts over her ankle. “You didn’t have to carry me, you know.”

“Of course, I did,” I scoff. “I couldn’t just leave you there.”

Quinn opens her eyes, looking at me with a mixture of gratitude and something else. Something that I’ve seen on her face a handful of times but could never place it until now. Heat. My fingers rest on the front of her leg and suddenly they itch to explore more of her. More than I let myself do the other night in the stairwell. To feel how she can yield under my touch. To drag my hands all over her perfect skin.

My pulse gallops wildly in my throat as I beg my body not to react, but it’s too late. I know it is. I can already feel the want traveling around and settling right in my crotch as my body takes over. I’m not in control anymore. Something has switched in my brain from protector to predator, and I’m incredibly thirsty for the girl in front of me.

Moving my hand slowly up her leg, I don’t break my eyes from hers. I watch every single micro expression, every shudder, every flicker of pleasure that crosses her face as I caress her skin torturously slow. Her skin is smooth, soft, and just as I get to her knee, I twist my hand to graze behind, tracing over the softest part of her.

She audibly gasps, parting her legs ever-so-slightly, and a moan slips past her perfect lips, begging me to react to it, to her. I barely think before I place her foot down and lunge toward her mouth, connecting our lips in a bruising kiss. Her taste floods my senses, mint, cinnamon and just her. Our teeth clash in a frenzy, tongues dueling in desperate sweeps as I devour her, every ounce of restraint shattering like glass.

My fingers grip the back of her neck, holding her there, deepening the kiss like I’m afraid she’ll slip away. Her nails dig into my shoulders, sending sparks skittering over my skin as we press closer, like we’re starving for this—each breath, each touch, only making the hunger worse.

Just then, the door creaks open, and we spring apart like two repelled magnets. I practically make it to the other side ofthe room, wiping at my mouth, just as Seb pokes his head in. “Everything alright in here?”

“Yeah, we’re good,” I say gruffly, clearing my throat. I point to Quinn’s foot. “Just getting some ice on her ankle.”And my balls.

Seb nods, looking at his sister. “All good, Quinn?”

“Great. Fine. I mean, good.” Her lips look slightly swollen, but it’s her wild eyes that give her away. She blinks a couple of times before she continues. “I’m sure it’ll be okay. Well, no, it does hurt, but I’ll be fine. Super, super fine, actually. I’ll be…super.”

Oh god, kill us both now.

Seb tilts his head, eyebrows knitting. “Did you bang your head too?”

“W-what?!” Quinn laughs, obnoxiously loud, bending at the waist. “No, silly. Just my ankle.”

Oh god, I need to step in before she starts singing or some shit. Dragging my hand down my face, I step in front of her, looking at her brother. “She’ll be fine. I’ll get the physio to look over her too,” I say, trying to distract from Quinn’s hysteria.

Seb’s eyes widen in a ‘whatever you say’ kind of way. “I’ve let Coach know you’ll head out of practice early.”

“Thanks, man,” I say, grateful for the reprieve.

Seb hesitates, but closes the door behind him. I turn back to Quinn, who is watching me with a dazed expression.

“What the heck was that?” I ask, stifling a laugh.

“What was what?”

“That! You laughing like a lunatic and saying all the synonyms for good.”

“I panicked!”

“Clearly,” I snort.

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