Page 24 of Stick Work

I turn back around, and his gaze drops, right to the knot in my towel. My breath catches as he jerks a thumb toward the bathroom. “I’ll, uh… shower. So, you can get dressed.”

I nod, trying not to combust as he walks into the bathroom and closes the door with a soft click. The moment he’s gone, I take in the “pillow wall” separating the bed and groan inwardly. Kill me now.

I throw on my pajama shorts and T-shirt at warp speed and pick a random side of the bed, flopping onto the right side Maybe if I fake sleep hard enough, I’ll actually fall asleep. But who am I kidding?

The bathroom door creaks open, and my heart starts racing again. No footsteps. Is he hesitating? Trying to figure out if I’m awake? My eyelids are squeezed so tight I’m halfway to a migraine.

A second later, the room goes dark, and I hear his quiet movements. Was that his towel hitting the floor? Oh gawd, does he sleep naked? But then I hear his dresser drawer open and a second later, the bed dips under his weight. I’m trying to breathe normally, but when I hear, “Hey,” I know I’ve failed miserably.

My eyes snap open in the dark. “Hey,” I manage.

“You okay, T?” His voice is a whisper now, close enough to send a shiver down my spine.

“I’m fine,” I murmur, but my pulse tells a different story.

A pause, then, “I can sleep on the floor if this is too weird for you.”

This is something, all right, but I’m not sure I’d use the word weird.

I roll toward him, staring at the pillows in the half-assed wall. “We’re adults, Elias. We share a house and a bathroom back home. One weekend sharing a bed won’t kill us. It’s not like…” My voice dips to barely a whisper. “It’s not like anything’s going to happen.”

“Right. Nothing’s going to happen,” he echoes, his voice calm, too calm. But then in a much quieter voice he adds, “We can’t let anything happen.”

“I mean, we can. We just shouldn’t.”

What the hell did you just say, girl?

The words aren’t even fully out of my mouth when, in one quick move, he snatches the pillow separating us and tosses it aside. My eyes widen as they adjust to the dark, and I catch the way his gaze burns into mine, full of questions and something dark, something dangerous, something that stirs the need inside me.

“What did you just say?” he asks, his voice an octave deeper.

Elias unleashed…it’s something I want, not only for me but for him, although maybe that’s for another night. Another woman.

“I was thinking…” My voice wavers as my brain screams for me to stop.

Abort mission, Taylor. Abort.

But my body is not listening. Nope, it has an agenda and is sticking to it. Heat blooms everywhere, pooling low, and before I can second-guess myself, my hands tug the rest of the pillows out from between us, the barrier gone completely.

“During drama lessons, we were always taught that to nail a role, you have to practice. Rehearse until it’s second nature.” His legs move, brush against mine, and his fingers slide closer, grazing my stomach. Each needy touch gives me courage to continue. “If we want your family to think we’re intimate, then maybe we should practice… you know…”

“Being intimate,” he murmurs. His fingers tug at my T-shirt, and I can feel the tension radiating from him. His breathing shifts, slower and heavier, as his eyes lock onto mine like I’m the only thing in the world. Wow, being Elias’s sole focus is…incredible.

“T…” His voice cracks slightly, my name a warning and a plea all at once.

“In answer to your earlier question…” My heart pounds so loudly I’m sure he can hear it. “Yes, I think.”

For a heartbeat, the room is so quiet I can hear the faint rush of blood in my ears. Then, I see it, the moment my words hit him. His hesitation melts away, replaced by something primal, something so needy it steals my breath.

He pulls me to him in one swift motion, his hands sure, his gaze devouring me with a kind of hunger I have never seen before. Fear and excitement tighten in my chest, and while it’s all overwhelming, I know I want this.

Urgent hands unceremoniously shove the blankets away from my body, a low growl rumbling in his chest as his eyes rake over me. His dark, intense gaze pins me in place, and it’s all I can do to pull in a breath. I sink deeper into the mattress, my pulse pounding in my ears, as his hand lands firmly on my stomach.

Thick fingers curl into my T-shirt, bunching the fabric in his fist. The material bunches, and as the air rushes over my bare flesh, it sends a thrill down my spine. He lifts my shirt higher, and wets his lips, like he’s preparing to devour me and I can’t wait.

I squirm as his eyes take in their fill, and my shorts ride low on my hips. My movement draws his attention, and he lets the shirt fall from his grasp, his fingertips dragging against my skin as they make their way to the elastic band. A small sound catches in my throat as the rough pads of his fingers burn everywhere they touch.

His head lifts, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that takes my breath away. There’s no question who’s in charge now. In this moment, he owns the room, the air, my every heartbeat. I was the one taking care of him since arriving, but the power shift is palpable, and it makes me feel alive in a way I’ve never known. I’ve fought so hard for control, for independence, since I arrived in Boston, but here, in his childhood bedroom in California, I want nothing more than to give myself to this. To him.

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