Page 8 of Until We Kiss

Maybe it’s a pullout?

He passes by me and flings off his flip-flops, still trying to rub some heat into his arms. “I figured you wouldn’t mind. Shit, I’m cold.”

“Wouldn’t mind,” I repeat to no one because he’s disappeared into the bathroom. The shower flips on, and he whoops at something in there.

I lick salt off my lips. “How much more were the rooms with two beds? Didn’t I give you enough money?”

I’m getting weird about this, and I should be focused on other things with the way my teeth are rattling. But how am I going to sleep next to Carter? He already takes up all the space. I can’t even imagine what he’s going to do with the sheets and pillows. Right there, sleeping next to me, big and warm, and possibly even nak?—

“I spent the money on something else,” Carter calls from the bathroom. A waft of warm steam wells out from the door, tinged with some kind of eucalyptus scent.

My teeth chatter. “What did you spend it on?”

“It’s a surprise.” Something wet slaps against the floor. “Don’t worry, you’llloveit.”

“I’ll love it?”

“Yep, totally, bro.”

I stare at the door, then shake my head and sigh because it’s soCarter. It’s not a big deal. So we’ll share a bed. Why is this fucking with me?

Travelling for football, I’ve shared rooms and beds and all sorts of spaces with other guys. And this should be easier because it’s Carter.

I don’t know why it’s fucking with my head so much.

I just need to go with it. Relax and get back to myself. Get out of my head, find a dick to suck, and get back to being football-Theo. I crouch to unzip my duffle, my fingers blue as I dig around for a clean pair of sweats.

“Ohhh,fuuuuck.” Carter’s voice bellows from the bathroom, echoing off the walls. “This feels sogood. Get in here. Warm your pea-size balls.”

My eyes settle on the door, and the steam billowing out.

“Uh…” I clutch onto the folded sweats. My shivers are getting stronger, but fuck… I can’t…

“Brrroooo,” Carter groans in this guttural, throaty rasp. “Are you coming or what? You need to warm up.”

Steam’s billowing out the door now. I do need to get warm. I step forward, pulled by the heat, stepping over the transition to gray bathroom tiles.

The bathroom’s huge and modern. A shower spans most of the rear wall, half hidden by frosted glass.

I step on a floor towel that Carter must have laid down, the terry cloth wrinkling under my toes.

Fuck, thewarmth. It soaks into me. I step over the low ledge into the shower, onto dark gray tile.

I’m still half clothed—wet sweats and soaked boxer briefs under that.

I was thinking Carter would be at least in his boxers.

I should have known better.

He’s leaning forward, both hands on the tiled wall, bare ass out, shorts flopped in a pile by his feet. He’s under a single rain-style shower head.

And fuck…

I pause.

I don’t want to look. I shouldn’t. But fuck if I can’t stop myself.

Carter.

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