Page 16 of Wild Obsession

“Then come on in, Freckles. The water’s fine.”

The elevator beeps irritably at me, but I stand there holding it open until Tim finally slouches inside, eyes downcast. He places himself in a far corner of the elevator, like he hopes to meld with the walls and disappear, and I stand right beside him. I simply can’t help it. I’ve waited eight, almost nine, years for this, and he’s making it trivially easy.

Tim’s gaze slides toward me as the elevator doors close. He watches me like he’d watch a snake in the grass, something he’s trying not to notice too much lest he attract its attention. Unfortunately for him, I’ve got eight years of pent up feelings about him, and I’m going to take them out on him in this tiny metal box.

I shove myself away from the wall and swing around to face him. Tim flinches, pressing himself harder into the corner he’s chosen for himself, but I don’t get close, just hang there staring him down before taking a step back and hitting a button on the elevator panel. I’m pretty sure it’s the right one. Tim, apparently relieved I gave him that one step of space, doesn’t bother asking for me to hit his floor.

“Forgot to hit the button,” I say as though this is a remotely normal elevator ride. Then I slide right back up beside him.

We both have a duffel bag, just enough clothes andtoiletries for our one rest night. Tim clutches the strap of his like it’s a buoy in the middle of storm-churned seas. I let mine drop to the floor with a thud that’s way too loud in this confined space.

The elevator shudders even harder than Tim when it starts clambering up toward the fourteenth floor. Tim is seriously going to regret not hitting his floor and having to ride the elevator back down and up, but apparently his head is too scrambled for that thought to squeeze through.

I should take the win and leave it at this. I know I should. It’s just that… When I see Tim pressing himself into that corner, staring at his feet, I don’t see a grown man I haven’t interacted with in eight years. I don’t see a guy who might have grown and changed since he hurt me so long ago. I see that shy virgin under the bleachers, grimacing at the taste of cigarette smoke when I lure him into a kiss. I see the kid who kept coming back to me for more, terrified and unsure, but too hungry to stop himself.

Instead of leaving him alone like I should, I swing around again. This time, I brace my hands on the wall on either side of Tim (this corner he’s chosen for himself makes that especially convenient).

The moment I box him in, Tim’s eyes snap up, wide, the whites overtaking them like he’s a spooked horse. I bare my teeth in a grin.

“No need to be so nervous,” I say. “We’re old friends,aren’t we?”

“Keannen,” Tim says, the word part plea, part exasperated cry for mercy, part … something else entirely.

Interesting. Maybe my sweet, freckled virgin isn’t as pure as he seems. He certainly reacted to that moment in the hallway in Portland, but I’ve left him to simmer ever since. The tour has kept us all plenty busy and stressed and exhausted. Tonight, however, I have nowhere to be and nothing to do but poke at the very obvious opening Tim is giving me.

“It’s okay, you know,” I say, leaning closer. “We dated. It’s not out of the question that you’d still be attracted to me.”

Tim flushes, his lips pressing into a hard line despite the color lighting his cheeks. “I’m not.”

I smile indulgently. “Mhm. I can see that.”

I let my eyes flicker downward deliberately, though I can’t actually tell if Tim is tenting his pants yet or not. It doesn’t matter. If he isn’t now, he will be by the time he leaves this elevator. I’ll make sure of that.

“Keannen,” he says again, “it doesn’t have to be this way.”

“What way?” I say, all feigned innocence.

“I get it,” Tim says, his voice shaky and low. “Okay? I get it. I fucked up. We were kids, Keannen.”

“Yeah, we were.”

He’s right, technically. We were kids. Seventeen. Some idiots under the bleachers. So what if he was the first guywho ever kissed me and didn’t just shove me down onto my knees? So what if no one in my life had treated me with such kindness and awe before Tim? So what if I let myself believe he actually liked me? So what if when he left it tore away anything good that was left in me, creating a void that bitterness rushed to fill?

We were only kids, after all.

I lean closer, and Tim turns his head away, like he’s trying to avoid me. Just like last time, however, when my breath ghosts against the side of his neck, he shivers, goosebumps breaking out on his skin.

“I’m not trying to hurt you, Tim,” I say. “I’m just having a bit of fun. Don’t you want to enjoy yourself while we’re on tour? There’s no reason we can’t.”

I watch his throat work from close range, the muscles shifting, the Adam’s apple bobbing. He can’t hide that nervous swallow from me, not with my lips a breath away from his skin.

“You don’t want to have fun,” Tim says. “You just want to fuck with me.”

“Who says that isn’t fun?”

“I—”

He tries to retort, but the elevator shudders to a stop — and not because it reached floor fourteen. The whole thing juststops, and a second later the lights go out, throwing us into pitch-black darkness lit only by the emergency light on the control panel.

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