Page 31 of Cold Front
The cool air of the room kissed my bare skin, a sharp contrast to the warmth building inside me, goosebumps prickling in its wake. My fingers wrapped around myself, and I sucked in a quiet breath. It had been too long. Too damn long.
I should’ve been thinking about anyone else. Should’ve shoved the thought away the second his face flickered in my mind. But there he was—Niall. Those dark, unreadable eyes. The way his jaw tensed when he was trying not to react. The way he’d looked at me today, softer than usual, like maybe I wasn’t just some guy he had to put up with.
My grip tightened, my hips shifting into the touch. Slow at first, then faster.
A quiet, choked-off sound escaped me, the sensation overwhelming after months of nothing. Each stroke sent sparks skittering under my skin, my pulse hammering hard against my ribs. The silence of the room only made it worse, amplifying every shaky breath, every tiny noise I couldn’t swallow down.
Niall’s name ghosted past my lips, barely a whisper, barely anything.
I squeezed my eyes shut, chasing the feeling, picturing him closer. His broad shoulders. The way his hand had felt wrapped around my arm today, steady and sure. The way his lips would feel against mine if I let myself have that thought for more than a second?—
The rush hit fast, pleasure surging through me so hard my breath caught. My body tensed, everything tightening before it shattered. I bit down on my lip, muffling the groan that tried to escape, but his name still slipped out, wrecked and breathless.
I lay there, chest rising and falling, the aftershocks still tingling through me.
Fuck.
I scrubbed a hand over my face, forcing my breathing to even out, but the damage was already done.
I wanted him.
And I was so, so screwed.
* * *
Morning came too soon. I blinked up at the ceiling, my body still heavy with sleep and last night’s dreams already fading. My hand drifted to my stomach, the ghost of heat lingering there, but I shoved the thought aside and swung my legs out of bed. A piss. A quick splash of cold water on my face.
By the time I made it to the kitchen, the house was quiet. Niall was probably out on his morning run—his predictable routine meant I knew exactly when I’d have the kitchen to myself.
The fridge hummed as I swung it open, scanning the contents. The last couple of weeks I’d grabbed a granola bar or a yogurt just to avoid awkward encounters, but things with Niall didn’t feel as tense lately. The ice was thawing, just a little. Enough that actually I felt like cooking for once.
Eggs. Bacon. Hash browns. I pulled the ingredients out, setting up the pan with practiced ease. The scent of sizzling butter filled the kitchen, the crackle of bacon the only sound in the house. It felt... good. Familiar.
On impulse, I plated an extra portion. Niall would be back in about fifteen, and maybe—just maybe—it wouldn’t kill me to leave him something.
I grabbed a sticky note, scrawled out a quick message, and stuck it to the plate.
Made extra. Hope you enjoy it—Eli
No smiley face. No fuss. Just... food.
Satisfied, I showered, got dressed, and grabbed my bag before heading out.
Asher was already in his seat when I slid into the chair beside him.
“Morning,” I said, setting my notebook down.
He raised a brow. “You’re way too awake for a Monday morning.”
“Had a good breakfast. And this is my second class of the day. I’m bound to be awake by now.”
That got a knowing look, but before he could say anything, the door opened, and my attention snagged on the broad figure stepping inside.
Niall.
Damp hair curling slightly at the ends. A gray hoodie stretched over his shoulders, sleeves shoved up to his forearms. His usual joggers slung low on his hips, the fabric doing dangerous things to my focus. He scanned the room, face unreadable, and for a split second, our eyes met.
I willed him to sit next to me.
