Page 72 of Unsteady

“Good. I like that you like that.” I smirk when he almost reflexively flexes his abs. “Do you want to touch yourself?”

“I want to touchyou,” he responds immediately. The warmth in my stomach tries to grab hold again.

I shove it away, finding a spot to prop up my phone, before sliding my hands across the translucent material against my stomach.

He tracks my every movement, now clearly holding the camera one-handed.

I watch with fire in my eyes as his arm moves up and down.

I’ve felt and seen exactly what he’s packing down there, but even still I bite my lip to stop myself from asking to watch.

Slowly, I slide the straps of the bustier down my shoulders, shimmying closer to the camera for a better view. This way feels safer, cutting off my head from view, so he can’t see my eyes. I’ve already let my guard down too much—this is me taking back my control. I desperately need it, before I drown completely in everythinghim.

He lets out a low moan as I bare my breasts to him, his arm quickening, jostling the camera.

“Fuck, Gray,” he grounds out, before the door clicks and the phone goes flying with a non-pleasurable shout from Rhys.

I knock the phone down, pulling my duvet up and over my head, cloaking myself like an Eskimo with only my face now visible.

Bennett is the next one on my screen, picking the phone up. I see a flash of his blushing, bright red cheeks, before rapid movement and Rhys in the camera again.

He walks somewhere, a bathroom it looks like, before sighing and apologizing over and over.

“It’s okay,” I mumble from my cocoon.

He smirks at my new ensemble even more than he did the lingerie. And I try desperately to smash out the growing warmth when he says, “You look so adorable.”

But that warmth is taking up permanent space in my chest. And so is he.

TWENTY-FOUR

RHYS

There is just the slightest nip in the air now, enough for the non-northerners to don a light jacket for the treks across campus. We’ve had two-a-days quite often now that we’re a week out from our first home game.

I feel better than I have, partially from how well the team seems to be meshing even with the parasite Kane looming over me every practice; but mostly because of a snarky figure skater who has her little fist clenched into my chest.

Bennett pretends the night in the hotel room never happened. Just like he and Freddy pretend not to notice how often I leave after dark for a quick “midnight run,” which is only a mile to the dorms—and back with a little guest in tow. I sneak her in, but I know they know.

I find myself at her door in between classes more often than I’ll admit. I go down on her often, my favorite being her on her back on my bed, legs over my shoulders while I kneel and jack myself off. It’s impossible not to with the sounds she makes, her taste, her blunt little nails on my scalp.

Her touch soothes me as much as it ignites me. I was floating before, feeling nothing but numbness. She makes me feel alive for the first time since that game. Like a whole man again.

We haven’t slept together, not yet. Partially because by the time I get my fill of her, she’s come at least three times and I can’t keep myself from following her over the edge with a slight touch.

The other reason, the one I can barely admit to myself, is that I’m scared.

Sadie is ingrained into my body and mind in a way that going even a day without her makes me anxious to be near her. I want more than just her hands on my skin in dim light. I want her everywhere—her hair all over my room, her voice in the noise at my games, her toothbrush in my bathroom—and I worry she’ll get her fill of me and move on. So I hold back the one card I have to play in our friends-with-benefits agreement.

Like the mythical cheerleader waiting to give it up to the quarterback, I’m waiting for her.

I walk beside Bennett from our calculus class, one I’ve put off until now. I’m not even sure why Bennett is taking the class because I’m fairly certain he took it freshman year. Not to mention he’s a genius in his own right.

Freddy and Holden, with freshmen in tow, meet us on the green and we all head towards the wellness cafe for lunch.

“Do we have a two-a-day Friday?” Holden asks, sliding his backpack strap over his shoulder again from where it slipped.

“No, just an early day.”

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