Page 15 of Shiver
Rake rolls away but he doesn’t have enough room to lie flat on his back, further solidifying the idea that yes, I had moved toward him. I’m so far across the center line of his bed, I might as well have just crawled on top of him.
He pulls a hand over his face before looking at me. The alarm is still going off, and he sighs. Letting his hand drop, I follow the movement as he scratches his stomach. Tight abs. Smooth skin. Damn.
Without comment, Rake pulls himself free of me and climbs from the bed. He turns off the noise that I’m going to be hearing for the next year as it blares in my head, reminding me that I royally embarrassed myself with my brilliant tutor.
Rake disappears into the bathroom, and I wait. Remaining completely still. Wondering if I can run out of here with my tail between my legs before he comes out. Okay, I’m not quite that much of a coward.
Besides, when he steps out a moment later, I wouldn’t have had time to pull my clothes on, never mind run away.
“Shower if you want. I’m ordering breakfast,” he says, his voice low and growly from sleep. And again, my dick appreciates the noise.
Wincing, I roll onto my stomach and bury my face in the pillow, willing my cock to go down. I can’t walk across his apartment like this. What’s he going to think? When a couple quiet minutes pass and my boner is not interested in deflating, I realize I’m going to have to make a run for it.
Pulling myself up, I sit and look around. Rake isn’t looking at me but at his phone. He’s still only in his underwear and I find myself checking out his body. I had no idea he was so well toned. Not that he dresses to hide it but… fuck, I suppose since I woke up with a boner against him, maybe I’m going to notice that now.
I slip from his bed and hurry to the bathroom, shutting the door a little louder than I meant to. Releasing a breath, I lean against the closed door for a minute.
Get it together. You’re acting like a weird guy.
When I’m through with my shower, I realize my dick has no intention of cooperating unless I give it what it wants. Apparently, it’s been too long since I’ve paid it any attention. So I quickly rub one out before I get out and dry off.
I have a weird quirk that I hate putting on the same underwear or socks that I took off. But now I’m faced with the fact that I don’t have a choice. Not only did Inotbring my pants into the bathroom, so going commando is out of the question, but that’s literally the only article of clothing in the bathroom at all.
Grumbling to myself, I pull them up and scowl into the mirror. My reflection grumps back although I swear mirror Egon is laughing at me too.Look at the situation you got yourself in.
Taking a breath, I figure I’ve hidden in here long enough. Pulling the door open, I step out. My eyes immediately zero in on my pants. I go to them and pull them on. Only when I’m decently covered and half-heartedly arguing with myself to return to the bathroom to take my underwear off again, do I look up to find Rake.
He’s sitting on his couch, now in sweatpants, with his phone in his hands. His usually neat black hair is sleep-rumpled. His perfectly trimmed facial hair is longer than the shadow he usually shapes with exact lines. With his eyes down, his long lashes are nearly brushing his cheek.
His chest is bare, and I’m reminded of a caramel mocha drink looking at the long, hard planes. I lick my lips and jump when there’s a knock on the door.
What is wrong with me?!
Rake stands, meeting my eyes on the way by. While I desperately want to drop my gaze, I refuse and appreciate his amused smirk and raised brow as he passes me. I watch as he opens the door and accepts the bag from whoever is out there. Then he turns, eyes locked on me again.
“Hungry?”
I nod. “Always.”
He chuckles. “Hockey players and their three stomachs.”
“You’re not wrong.”
The easy banter sets me at ease, and I follow him to the couch. He pulls out a sandwich and a little box before handing me the bag. There’s still three wrapped sandwiches, what appears to be two pastries, and another small box of something. I reach for a sandwich as I eye the rest of it. I could probably pack away everything in here.
When I get through the first sandwich and Rake hands me another, I relax. “Thanks for letting me crash,” I say. Maybe if I just address the weirdness of my behavior, I’ll feel like myself again.
Rakesh looks at me, his dark eyes assessing as he too chews through another sandwich. My eyes drop as he swallows, his Adam’s apple moving up and down. Though I mean to return my gaze to his and not let it snag anywhere else, I pause at the slight curve of his lips. His full lips.
Jeezus.
Shaking my head, I finally manage to be a decent person and meet his eyes. He’s amused as he looks at me. “No problem,” he says.
“I swear, I won’t make that a habit,” I tell him. Needing him to understand that this is not normal behavior. Any part of it. Me climbing in his bedorthe awkwardness that is me this morning.
“It’s not a big deal, Egon,” he says. “You’re working hard. Balancing hockey and doing what you need to pass your classes is going to put a lot of pressure on you. You’re doing well at keeping up. Keep going. I know you can.”
His words, the part where he’s telling me I can do this, make my heart stutter in my chest. As it usually does when he compliments me. When he gives me praise my mouth salivates. My gaze blurs for a second. And a deliciously frightening shiver races down my spine.
