Page 17 of Depths of Desire
I hated that about him.
Not really. I envied it. And that felt worse.
He glanced at me and caught me looking. Not for the first time. I turned away too slowly. He didn’t smile, but I saw something flicker across his face. Understanding, maybe. Or curiosity.
My throat felt tight.
I wasn’t sure how to sit anymore. Every position felt like too much. I shifted slightly, then stopped myself before I could make it obvious. He didn’t say anything. He just watched me from the corner of his eye like he was waiting to see if I’d squirm.
I didn’t. Not visibly, at least.
The room had gotten hotter. That was what I told myself. It had nothing to do with the way he looked. Nothing to do with the fact that I could still see the shape of his legs in those sweatpants. Or the faint outline of muscle beneath that T-shirt. Or the way his hair had dried into soft waves, falling over his forehead like it belonged there.
I crossed my arms tighter across my chest and focused on the fire.
“You ever miss it?” he asked after a while.
“Miss what?”
“Normal life. School. Just…not being in the spotlight.”
I shook my head. “I never had a normal life.”
He didn’t push me to explain. He just nodded like he understood, even if he didn’t.
We sat in silence again. The heat in the room had seeped into the space between us. I could feel him. Not physically, but almost. His presence had weight to it. The air between us was getting hotter by the minute.
My gaze flicked toward the bed in the back of the room.
I told myself it didn’t mean anything.
One night. Just one. I could handle it.
Except I kept picturing it. The covers pushed back, the sound of breathing, and the heat of another body just inches away.
My fingers curled slightly where they rested on my forearm.
He moved again, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. His shirt stretched across his shoulders when he did that. The fabric pulled just enough to show the way his back moved underneath.
I swallowed hard.
This was stupid. I was stupid for letting my mind go there, but I couldn’t stop it. It had already started. That slow, creeping want. Not loud. Not urgent. Just a low thrum beneath my skin. A tension I couldn’t name.
I didn’t want this.
Except…I did.
I didn’t want to want it.
But I did.
Lennox turned to look at me. He didn’t smile this time. His eyes were serious. Calm. Like he could feel it too. Like he wasn’t sure what to do with it either.
I stood too fast. “I’m going to grab a glass of water.”
I went to the kitchenette and busied myself with the tap, pretending I couldn’t feel his eyes on my back. The water was cold and sharp. I drank slowly, one sip at a time, until I could breathe again.
When I turned around, he was still watching me.
