Page 119 of Burn

When things are…

Fixed?

Over?

Better?

Calm?

The corridor is silent again, and when I turn back to Adrian, he’s collecting his discarded gloves and helmet off the ground. His eyes lock on mine as he slowly rises to his towering height. He’s so much more commanding like this, propped up on the blades of his skates, and I find myself desperate to be eye to eye with him, as we only are when in bed.

“I guess we should probably talk,” he says quietly.

Or, we could not.

I mustn’t be schooling my expression very well because his lips tilt into a smile, and he shakes his head, chuckling. “We can do whatever the hell you want to do. Either way, I need to shower.” He pauses, something flashing in his eyes. “You’ll wait?” Before I can answer, tell him that yes, of course, I’ll wait, he adds, “Please.”

I’m speechless watching him nervously fidget, so I nod and follow him into the change room. The room is bright, and I’m pleasantly surprised by how clean it is. It doesn’t smell like sweat or dirty equipment. There are cubby-style lockers, and each one holds a neatly hung jersey, save for a solitary empty space that contains Adrian’s jacket. I cross the room and lower myself to sit there, leaning back into it and inhaling the scent of his cologne that lingers on his coat.

Adrian stands in the center, shifting his helmet back and forth in his hands. The adrenaline of the evening is fading, and it takes me a little longer to connect that he needs to put his gear away. I push myself up. “Sorry, I’ll move,” I rush out.

“No, it’s okay. I just need my towel. Soap.”

We end up doing this weird sort of dance, each dodging the same way the other is, until he finally wraps his arm around my waist, and moves me with him. It’s so fluid and natural, and he grabs a small bag and a towel off the shelf. As he releases me, he smiles and winks, then turns and heads toward the showers, uniform, skates, helmet, and all. I sink back down to the bench, dizzy from the back-and-forth. Things feel awkward and strained until we’re physically connected; only then does it feel peaceful.

Around the corner, I hear the clink of his skates on the tile, and Adrian mutters a string of curse words under his breath. I listen, focusing on his words, and when I hear him say, “Brand new fucking skates.” I can’t help but laugh, covering my mouth to stifle the sound. It must carry across the empty room, because he’s louder when he says, “You wouldn’t be laughing if you knew how much I paid for these.” There’s no anger, not directed at me. His tone is lighter.

When the shower turns on, images of Adrian, naked, wet, and hard, flash through my mind. I’m instantly on my feet, pulling his hoodie over my head and my jeans off my legs. I leave a trail of discarded clothes as I rush toward him. I hesitate, for the briefest moment, when I reach the edge of the tiles, remembering Rosie’s unwillingness to step into the shower. Steam floats through the air, and movement on the far wall pulls my attention from the ground.

Adrian’s back is to me; his hands pressed into the wall. Water cascades over him, down his back. His triceps flex as he adjusts himself, pressing from one leg to the other, and I follow the long lines of his back down to his perfect fucking bubble butt. Hockey asses are the universes way of apologizing for them generally being such colossal assholes because Jesus Christ.

And then, there are those thighs. I don’t think I could have ever predicted the effect a man’s thighs would have on me, but I hadn’t seenthesethighs. Thick, corded muscle, built from a lifetime of hard skating, heavy lifting, and a physical career, leaves me feral. I step onto the tiles, working to stay silent. I love watching him like this, when he doesn’t know I’m here. He’s pure brutal power in human form, but like this, his guard is down, and I need him like this right now, more than anything.

I’m so close, close enough to watch the droplets of water as they drip one by one off him, and are rinsed down the drain, and it seems like such a waste when I could be the one to lick them off of him. His hand drops from the wall, scrubbing at the back of his neck, and new muscles move, muscles I’ve never seen on anyone. They’re thick and run from his neck, along the back of his shoulders, and the sight of them pushes the softest gasp from my lips.

Adrian tenses momentarily, then exhales and returns his hand to the wall. His voice is gravelly and barely audible. “I never need to see you to know you’re around, you know? I can feel you. Like a rubber band that was pulled tight, starting to relax.” He slowly turns; his eyes are hooded as they skirt up my body. “But I told myself there was no way.” His eyes landon mine, and fire erupts through my body, starting low in my core and spreading as if he’s gasoline. “Lex, I’m…”

I press a finger into his lips, silencing him, because nothing he can say, no apology, no promise, could make me want him more than I do, so I show him what we need — whatIneed — by dropping to my knees and guiding his thick length into my hungry mouth.

He sucks in a breath. It’s so sharp that it cuts through the steam and the sound of the shower. He falls back, his shoulders landing on the wall, and water sprays over me, wetting my hair. Pieces stick to my face, and when Adrian notices, he reaches out. His hand hesitates midair — until I pull him in deeper. His cock hits the back of my throat, and my cheek grazes his palm. I lift my eyes to his, and his expression is unrecognizable.

Lust and hunger, yes, but something more.

His words are ragged when he says, “Fuck, Lex, I…” His eyes momentarily slam shut before flying open again, as if he’s terrified to miss a single second.

I hum as I suck, trailing my tongue in slow swirls around the underside of his length. His thighs tremble, the muscles flexing under my hands that press into them. I reach one for his balls, gently tugging, and he collects my soaked hair into his hand, pulling it away from my face. My clit pulses, begging for attention. I drop my hand between my legs and rub tight circles around it. My body is so alive, like a live wire.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mutters, eyes on my hand as it moves. “Does that feel good?” I nod slowly, not breaking eye contact, wanting him to feel worshiped. “I want to watch you come, while I come down your throat,” he sayson a breath.

I suck hard, my cheeks hollowing out, then drop my hands lower, pushing two fingers inside. I’m hot, slick, and bordering on desperate for release, but slow and soft has never been our thing, so I slowly pull back until his dick pops out of my mouth. He lets out a strangled growl, eyes darkening. I smile up at him, at his tormented expression, and remove my fingers from myself and slide them between my lips, sucking myself from them.

“You fuckin’ brat,” he hisses.

I briefly consider standing and leaving the shower. Making him suffer with the pressure like he’s done to me too many times. I think better of it.

“Beg me,” I demand in a low, sultry voice, slowly blinking up at him. His hand at this side clenches into a tense fist, and there’s a moment of silence between us. Him staring down at me, me staring up at him, all while water falls around us like warm rain. A slow smile spreads across my lips as I watch his resolve shatter. His brows soften, his mouth is parted, and his tongue swipes a slow trail along his bottom lip. “Come on,” I encourage. “Tell me what you need.”

He wraps his hand around the base of his cock, squeezing it and groaning softly. “Come on, Lex,” he pleads.

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