Page 21 of Pretend You're Mine

I let him help me stand. My legs wobbled, as though I'd been sick for a long time and had to learn how to use them again. I pushed the sliding glass shower door open and stepped in. "You can go on without me. I've got to get out of this and clean up a bit," I said, gesturing to my shirt.

"Come on, I'll help you clean up." He followed me into the shower and mumbled something about needing extra assistance.

After that, the rest of it was pretty unspoken between us. Avery helped me wash up, and I let him help, even though that’s the kind of thing my pride wouldn’t normally allow. His touch was gentle and I couldn't say no to it. And in return, I found myself reaching out for his affectionate contact. Not because I felt obligated, but because I couldn't stop myself. My fingers were itching for it. It was just platonic, of course. It was just affectionate. We were together in the trenches now.

Back in bed, we lay together in silence, a heavy silence that hung over us. After a few minutes, I couldn’t take it anymore and blurted out, “Were you thinking about conversion camp during dinner?"

He didn't respond at first, but then he sighed. "No, I wasn't."

I wanted to press further, to understand what was going on in his head. Deep down, I knew there was something more going on with Avery that he couldn't bring himself to share. What could I do to help? Feeling inadequate with my words, I reached over and awkwardly pulled him closer to me. It was a brotherly hug, I told myself.

CHAPTER 12

AVERY

My legs were tangled with another's, my arms wrapped around a warm, solid body pressed against me. I held the man tighter, my face buried in the crook of his neck, savoring the heat and comfort radiating from him. I wasn’t in any hurry to pull away, craving the closeness, the rare comfort of touch.

He shifted back into me, fitting snugly against my chest, and I found myself tracing lazy patterns along the length of his arm, relishing the smoothness of his skin. His woodsy scent filled my lungs, grounding me, but leaving me wanting more.

I pressed closer, feeling a long-buried hunger stir in the pit of my stomach, an ache I hadn’t allowed myself to feel in ages. My hips moved instinctively, grinding against him, and the friction sent a spark through my veins.

He shifted again, his head resting partially on the silk pillows, mostly nestled in the curve of my arm. I dipped my head, brushing my lips over his neck, tasting the salt of his skin. He let out a small whimper, his hips rolling against my morning wood, stoking the fire building inside me. My hand roamed lower, tracing the contours of his back until it reached the waistband of his cotton pajamas.

I hesitated. My fingers caught the edge of the fabric, tugging slightly.

And then, reality hit me like a punch to the gut. My eyes flew open, panic flooding my chest. This is bad—so, so bad. Darkness surrounded us, but it did nothing to drown out my racing thoughts. This was everything I’d tried to avoid, but now it was happening, and I was the one responsible.

I’d crossed a line, touching and grinding against Creed without his consent. My breath caught in my throat, a sick sense of shame washing over me. Sleepy excuses wouldn’t change what I’d done.

I jerked away, scrambling off the bed so fast I misjudged the distance and crashed to the floor. The impact rattled through my body, and I sat there, clutching my groin, trying to conceal the evidence of my lapse in control. My chest heaved as I fought back the panic. I swallowed hard, forcing myself not to break.

When my gaze finally lifted to the bed, I froze. My heart hammered in my chest and I broke out in a cold sweat. Creed leaned over the side of the bed, staring down at me with sleepy eyes.

"Why are you on the floor? Did I push you off?"

Heat seared my cheeks, as Creed's now curious gaze fixed on me.

I shook my head vigorously, taking care to school my features before glancing up at him again. I searched his face, waiting for realization to set in and morph into anger. I was sure he'd freak out when he found out what had happened. Or what had almost happened. It didn't make any difference.

"Avery? Are you okay?"

We stared back at each other. For some seconds, I thought Creed was going to bring up what had happened. Ask me about it and possibly begin to yell.

He cocked his brow. "Avery?"

"I'm fine. Everything's good." I shifted backwards, dragging my ass on the floor, in hopes of defusing the situation. I was so off-balance. Creed's response made me completely unsure of what to think.

Was he such a deep sleeper he didn't realize what was happening? Maybe he was just sleep-grinding on my cock. Either way, I'd been awake. Should I talk about it and clear the air?

Before I could make up my mind on the next course of action to take, Creed got out of bed and made his way to the bathroom.

The sound of the shower drowned out the sound of my low-boil panic.

"Fuck! That was close." I roamed the length of the room, running my fingers through my hair. Maybe hiring a boyfriend to placate my family hadn't been a brilliant move as I had thought initially. "Damn!"

When the bathroom door opened a little while later, I froze in place. My stomach churned as I focused on Creed, who moved fluidly around the room. I checked for signs in his demeanor and facial expressions that suggested he’d caught up on what had transpired between us.

There was nothing.

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