Page 22 of Hot Route
In an attempt to lessen his retaliation, I bite my lip innocently. “Oops, sorry,” I say.
“You’re sorry?” he replies, jutting out his bottom lip in a fake pout. “I bet you’resooooo sowwy.” He’s trying to imitate my girly voice, which just makes me laugh harder.
“That’s it.”
That’s the last thing I hear before he runs up on me, tossing me over his shoulder like I weigh nothing. I giggle uncontrollably, beating my small fists against his back which earns me a firm smack to my ass. It takes everything I have notto moan at the contact, but I don’t have long to think about it as I hear him twist the handle to the shower.
“Blaze! No!” I scream in a panic, knowing exactly what he’s about to do. Even though I’m kicking my legs with all my might, his grip remains tight as he laughs.
“What kind of roommate would I be if I didn’t clean up my messes?” he coos before stepping into the shower, both of us fully clothed. My screams bounce of the walls as my tank top and shorts soak, sticking to my skin.
He finally loosens his iron grip, sliding my body down his to stand in front of him. My nipples harden on instinct and although I should be panicking and running out of here, I don’t. I just stand there, comfortable in my own skin as he brushes my wet hair away from my face.
We stare at each other wordlessly as he fills his hand with shampoo. He rubs it between his hands before moving them to massage my scalp. It feels heavenly. I let loose a small moan when he flexes his fingers, tightening them around my wet locks. He uses his grip to tilt my head back into the stream of water, suds rinsing out and down the drain.
When he’s satisfied, Blaze follows the shampoo with a generous amount of conditioner. I exhale contentedly as he finger combs my hair, massaging firmly as he does. Rinsing it out all over again, he smiles down at me before reaching behind me to turn off the water.
“Wait,” I rush out, making him drop his arm back to his side. I grab the body wash, squeezing a generous amount into my hand before warming it between my palms. I reach out, rubbing the suds over his chest and abs. This is probably close to crossing a line, but I can’t tear my hands from his body. He’s as still as a statue, allowing me to explore him for a moment.
To avoid doing something I can’t take back, I rinse his body before shampooing the clumps of pancake batter from his hair.I’m waiting for the awkwardness to set in, but it never does. Even though we’re standing wordlessly, fully clothed, washing each other, I couldn’t be more comfortable. My heart squeezes in my chest because for the first time since I left Chicago, I’m not missing home.
We stand under the warm water for a few minutes longer before Blaze shuts it off. Stepping out first, he grabs two towels from the warmer he must’ve turned on while I was over his shoulder and wraps one around my back. My shorts and tank top continue to drip onto the floor, and I notice that his sweats are heavy and hanging dangerously low on his hips.
Looking at him with a soft smile, I tighten the towel around me. “I’m going to go change out of these wet clothes, then I’ll clean up the kitchen.”
“No way,” he argues. “I’ll clean the kitchen. You make the pancakes.”
“Deal.” I wink at him before turning and leaving him alone.
As I reach my room and strip out of my wet clothes, I wait for feelings of regret to settle in my stomach, but all I feel are butterflies. It’s confusing, but I don’t overthink it. Blaze and I can be friends. We can enjoy some flirty moments without it turning romantic and ruining everything. People do it all the time, right?
I finish changing, then head down to the kitchen to see the damage we caused with our little food fight. Blaze is already hard at work, wiping the now dried batter from where it landed on the counters and floor.
I make quick work of mixing up a new bowl of batter before pouring it onto the griddle. Using the spatula, I flip the pancakes to see that they’re perfectly cooked. Blaze sidles up beside me, two plates in hand as I fill them both for us. We work seamlessly, serving our breakfast and sitting at the island to eat.
It all just feels so normal. The whole morning has, actually. In another world, I could see myself falling hard for Blaze. He’s sexy, kind, smart, caring…everything I’ve hoped for in the man I chose to spend my life with.
For now, I’ll enjoy every moment we share, even if I know that in the end, I’ll never get to experience what it really feels like to be his.
TWENTY
BLAZE
I’m sittingon the pool deck watching last week’s game film on my tablet when Mads walks out the door and heads toward me. I do a quick double take because the dress she’s wearing should be illegal in every state, but I school my expression before she notices. We’ve been spending a lot of time together lately. There’s no way she doesn’t see the way I react to her every time she’s near me, but I’m still trying to honor her wishes that we don’t cross any lines with our relationship.
But that shit she’s wearing right now? It’s testing my goddamn self-control.
Seriously, I thought her summer dresses were hot. But her fall wardrobe?Fuuuuuuck me. Everything she owns is low cut and tight around her tits. It isn’t indecent at all, but that doesn’t stop my cock from swelling at the sight of her. It’s like she’s moving in slow motion, the autumn leaves falling around her as she approaches me.
“Hey,” she says, a hint of frustration in her voice. “Can I use your truck to drive over to Connor Paul’s house? My car is making a clunking noise when it idles. Jacob just called and said they’re having some type of equipment emergency and they’resupposed to start recording a podcast episode in a half hour. The sponsor is already there, and we don’t want to lose the advertising revenue.”
I’m about to toss her my keys when I replay her words. “Connor Paul? The nineteen-year-old social media star who hasthreesex tapes?”
She rolls her eyes. “That’s the one. He’s good at railing his mom’s friends on video, but it seems as though wiring podcast microphones isn’t on his list of talents.”
“I’ll take you,” I say, standing up abruptly. Because one thing I’m not letting her do is go to a house full of horny teenage boys wearing that dress.
Fuck. That. Shit.
