Page 61 of Depths of Desire
My chest rose too fast, like my lungs had forgotten how to measure air. My skin felt too tight. My blood ran hotter. Heat pooled low in my belly, and I could feel myself getting hard just from the sight of him.
There was no pressure here. No expectation.
Just the electric hum of awareness threading between us like an invisible wire.
My pulse kicked up, sharp, hot, and alive.
Not from panic, but need. The kind of need that made the whole damn world go quiet.
Nationals didn’t exist.
The water, the whistle, the failure, all faded.
Time didn’t exist.
Deadlines. Races. Promises. Gone.
Only this.
Only the way his lashes flicked as I stepped into the room.
Only the rise of his chest, slow and steady, like he knew I’d come and wasn’t the least bit surprised.
Only the heat blooming in the space between us like a storm front about to break.
Only him.
I crossed the threshold without a word, heat licking down my spine. Every part of me was drawn forward by gravity, desire, and something deeper I didn’t have a name for.
The door shut softly behind me with a click that might as well have sealed the world out.
I didn’t need anything else.
Not answers. Not plans.
Not even a breath.
Because the only thing that mattered right then was this moment. This room. This man.
And everything else could wait.
He didn’t speak when I stepped closer—just watched me with that half-lidded look, full of fire and certainty. His fingers flexed against his cock through the sheet, stroking slowly, putting on a show that made my knees weak.
I did.
I let my gaze drift down the slope of his neck, the subtle movement of his chest as he breathed, the obvious outline of his erection beneath the thin cover.
“Were you trying to kill me?” I asked, voice low, rougher than I meant it to be.
Lennox smiled, slow and smug. His hand squeezed himself harder. “You like it?”
“I haven’t decided if I like it or if I’m about to combust.”
“Then come closer and find out.”
That did it.
I braced a knee against the mattress and leaned over him, planting one hand beside his ribs. The lamplight curved aroundthe planes of his body like it belonged to him, and I traced that light with my eyes, burning it into memory.
