Page 18 of Depths of Desire
The look in his eyes wasn’t teasing. It wasn’t friendly. It wasn’t flirty.
It was quiet and patient, and it made my chest tighten.
I sat back down, a little farther from the fire this time, and kept my eyes on the flames.
The silence returned.
I didn’t know what would happen when we turned out the lights. I didn’t know if we’d speak again. If we’d touch. If we’d just lie there, pretending the air wasn’t suffocating us like a held breath.
But I knew one thing for sure. I didn’t want to sleep. Not yet. Not while he was this close. Not while my thoughts were like this. Not while my hands ached to know what his skin felt like.
I had to let this wash over me before I could even think of lying down next to him.
And as I bit my lower lip in anticipation, I understood that this electrifying feeling simply wasn’t going away. I’d have to shut my eyes and pretend he wasn’t there.
FIVE
LENNOX
I don’t thinkanyone had ever undressed me so thoroughly with little more than a glance.
It happened after I had brushed my teeth and walked into the semi-separate area we called the bedroom. Oliver was already under the heavy comforter, but his bare shoulders told me he had stripped down for bed.
I swallowed a knot in my throat as discreetly as I could before coming closer to the bed. And just then, as if he couldn’t wait another minute, Oliver let his gaze slide down my entire length. It was a wonder my clothes didn’t disintegrate under the intense heat of his eyes.
I cleared my throat and looked away, pretending like I hadn’t noticed and didn’t feel my pulse jump like I was still a high school sophomore with a stupid thing for the neighborhood swim star.
I turned my back to him and peeled off my shirt, taking my time about it, even though my skin prickled with the weight of his gaze. I could practically feel it trailing across my shoulders and down the middle of my back. Maybe I imagined it, maybe not. I didn’t really want to know.
I peeled off my socks and stood there in my sweatpants for a second too long. A smarter man would’ve left them on. Or grabbed a hoodie. Or said he’d sleep on the couch and faked a pulled hamstring. But I was not a smarter man. I was a man who stepped out of his sweatpants and stood there in my briefs, exposed to the chill of the room and the heat rolling off the guy already curled up under the covers.
It hadn’t been so hard after the shower, but in the hours that followed, we had caught one anotherlooking.
I wasn’t worried about Oliver. He wasn’t going to make a move. That wasn’t the issue.
The issue was me. My nerves. My body. My complete and total lack of chill.
I rounded the bed and peeled back the corner of the comforter like I was opening a sarcophagus. It wasn’t exactly graceful. I shuffled under the sheets with all the elegance of a folding chair, trying not to accidentally touch his leg with my knee or elbow him in the ribs. I managed it. Barely.
Once I was horizontal, I scooted until I was clinging to the edge of the mattress like it was a lifeline. Oliver didn’t say anything. He just stayed very still on his side of the bed, his back to me, the comforter pulled up to his shoulders like he needed the armor.
God, this was so dumb. We were adults. We were just sleeping.
But it didn’t feel likejustanything.
My legs were too long. My arms didn’t know where to go. I felt exposed, somehow. Not because I was half-naked, but because the air between us was too full of everything we weren’t saying. It buzzed. Or maybe I did.
The cabin lights were still on. A soft yellow glow warmed the space and made Oliver’s hair look almost auburn where it caughtthe light. I stared at the ceiling, unsure whether I could turn them off without making it weird.
Because turning off the lights was final. That was intimacy. That was commitment. That was one tiny click away from sharing a bed with my teenage fantasy in a stormy cabin while pretending nothing at all was happening.
I reached out to the nightstand, froze, and pulled my hand back.
Nope. Not ready.
I did it again. This time, my fingers brushed the little knob. I turned it halfway. The light dimmed. Oliver didn’t move.
Maybe he was asleep.
