Page 10 of Until We Kiss

He laughs. “Bear hug, bro!”

Oh God.

His arms wrap me, pulling me in, chest to chest.

“You’re socut,” he says. “I mean, I know that. It’s pretty obvious. But it’s different touching you.”

Oh Jesus.

“I don’t know if I am anymore,” I whisper. “Not like I used to be.”

“Nah, you’re the same. You haven’t changed.”

Haven’t changed.

I squeeze my eyes shut. I should step back, but I just…don’t.

Carter holds me, our shivers coming in fits and spurts, his hair brushing my shoulder as he tips his head down, water coursing over us, weighing down my sweats so the elastic slides low on my hips, my toes tingling.

His body—against mine, shivering, trembling, fuckingpalpating.

We stand there for a long moment, just shaking together, until the water finally starts to heat both of us. Steam is gathered so thick that I can taste it, the sound of the falling water echoing in my head.

I squeeze my eyes tighter and tighter until I see circles of white light.

I should step back. But he just hugs me tighter. And I don’t want to step back.

I don’t want to atall.

I just want to stay here, still faintly shivering against him. As big and loud as he is, he’s just soCarter. Like he can’t help being exactly who he is.

I was always so focused on myself before the accident. So focused on football. Onme, and all those goals I had for my life.

My throat tightens, a swelter of some kind of emotion rising, pricking my eyes and puckering the back of my tongue. Like a weight, welling from somewhere inside. The last six months wash over me, everything tumbling. Hitting the turf. That first snap of pain. The darkness after.

It always comes back so fast. Out of nowhere.

Heat closes my throat, swells behind my eyes.

Fuck, I don’t want to cry here. I’ve cried more in the last six months than I had for my entire life before that.

But it starts to well up, and maybe he senses it, because he pulls me closer, snug against him, chest to chest, his lips against my neck, the soft press of his package against mine.

And then the worst possible thing happens. Worse than almost crying in the shower with Carter. Worse than admitting how everything feels like it’s falling apart. Blood rushes, hot in my slowly warming body, like it’s on a mission, my dick thickening, my balls and thighs warming. An awareness of everybit of his skin pressed against mine. Of his breath. Of his size. Of the way he’shuggingme.

Fuck, I need to get out of here.

“I’m good now.” I step back, nearly stumbling over my own heels. My dick is throbbing, my face flushing…

“Theo?” There’s a tightness in his voice, and I’m not meeting his eyes. I’m staring at the tile.

And I’m fucking hard.

Jesus, did henotice?

I need to go. I turn, still shivering, and step around the frosted glass panel, snagging a towel off the rack.

My sweats are soaked. And I can’t pull them down without springing out like a fucking jack-in-the-box, so I do the only thing I can—I head out of the bathroom, dripping all over the new carpet.

---