63. Dylan #2
He looks at me with naked hunger, and I do the same. For a long while that’s all we do. We stand, and we look at each other, and that’s enough.
“Shower,” I say hoarsely when I’m so hard it’s becoming painful.
He doesn’t ask if he can come with me, he just follows me into the bathroom.
I turn on the water and step under the spray without waiting for it to get warm. I need the shock of that first blast of icy water to get at least some of my self-control back.
He comes in right after me and lets out a yelp at the cold. I snort, and he sends me a mock glare. I splash water at him from my fingertips.
He comes back and stops right behind me, not touching me, but so close that goose bumps appear all over my skin.
The sound of the flowing water masks my harsh breaths, and I keep my back to him.
He reaches past me and picks up the shower gel.
The click of the cap echoes through the bathroom.
I close my eyes and force myself to breathe.
His slippery palms come down on my shoulders and slide down my back as he starts to wash me.
I melt into his touch, completely and with no shame.
And I don’t think. I don’t think about the consequences of my own actions. I don’t think about what this could mean. I don’t think about the very near future when this is going to fuck us both up even more.
Instead, I concentrate on the feel of his hands on me. He moves them up and down my back for a while, then lower, cupping my ass for a moment. Then up again. Over and over again.
I slap my hand on the glass shower wall for balance and close my eyes. Adrian’s hands move over my sides and then around to my front. He steps closer, his body pressed against mine. Chest against my back. His rock-hard cock is resting against my ass.
He tweaks my nipple quickly and then moves his hand lower.
Lower.
Lower.
He rests it on my abdomen for a long second.
His fingers wrap around my cock.
A shaky breath escapes from between my lips, and then I’m just breathless.
He moves his hand up and down for a few strokes, then lets me go. His hand shakes like it takes all the effort in the world for him to do that.
I whimper.
He kneels down behind me, and I slump forward and rest my head against my forearms while he washes my thighs and knees and calves and ankles.
Once he’s done, he wraps his hand around my thigh and leans his own forehead against my hip.
“All done,” he says softly.
He kisses my hip, and my knees buckle, but I somehow manage to stay upright. He gets up, wipes the water off his face, and pushes his hair back before he turns the shower off.
He grabs the towel from the rack and dries me.
I take my toothbrush, and when I’m done, I hand it over to him. I watch him brush his teeth, my gaze greedy because this is the kind of intimacy I’ve always wanted with him. Sharing the mundane and having it be special because I do all those things with him by my side.
In the bedroom, he strips the bed of sheets and blankets and sets up a place for us on the floor without me having to ask and without any judgment on his part. We climb under the covers naked.
I think we both know we won’t go any further than this. We’ve already crossed too many lines to count.
I turn on my side, and he wraps himself around me from behind.
He kisses the nape of my neck and presses his palm against my chest right where my heart is beating.
I’m not proud of it but come morning and the first faint light outside the window, I slowly and carefully roll myself away from him and up onto my hands and knees. And then I do a very undignified crawl of shame from my bedroom to the living room, as silently as humanly possible.
In the kitchen, I find Indy sitting at the counter, sipping a cup of coffee and eating leftover pizza from a few days ago.
“Morning,” he says cheerfully. And loudly. “Nice cock.”
I wince and glance toward the bedroom before I glare at him and hastily cover my junk with my hands.
“Shh,” I hiss.
“You’re letting him sleep in. That’s sweet.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I whisper with another nervous look toward the bedroom.
He merely quirks his brow.
“I can’t be here when he wakes up,” I say.
“Because?”
I drag both my hands through my messy hair and pull at the roots until my scalp starts to sting. Then I remember I’m still naked. Fun.
“Take your pick. I have zero self-control. Or morals. Or shame. Decency. Anything, really.” I rub my hands over my face and blow out a breath. “He’s engaged, Indy.”
He looks at his cup and purses his lips.
“That’s still on?”
“It’s not off.” I shake my head. “I need to get out of here, like, yesterday.”
He drops the half-eaten slice of pizza. “Let’s go grab breakfast. I’ll give you something to wear.”
I nod thankfully. He rummages around in his suitcase and tosses me a pair of jeans and a shirt that I pull on before I follow him out the door.
We end up in another pizza place because Indy wants pizza and I’m not hungry, so I don’t care where we go.
“Talk,” he says once the waitress slides the pizza in front of him.
I sigh and shrug. “I’m… I’m a worm. Lower than a worm. A maggot. Something slippery and vile.”
Indy stares at me.
“Is that some weird thing they say around here where everybody seems to think it makes total sense?”
“ I told Adrian he needs to figure out what he wants, and now I’m sabotaging it. I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t stop. Because deep down I’m absolutely willing to do whatever it takes for him to choose me.”
“And that’s bad?”
“He needs to figure out what’s still between him and Freya, otherwise none of us will ever know.
And then what if he stays with me but later realizes he’s made a mistake?
What if this is just some trauma response on his part, and when he settles back into life in the real world, he’ll remember what it was like.
Who he really is. And then he won’t leave me because it’s too late, and he feels like he has to honor his choice.
And then he begins to resent me bit by bit. ”
Indy starts eating again. “How’s avoiding him gonna help with that?”
I stare out the window.
“When I’m with him, I don’t think. And I can’t afford not to think. I just…” I shrug helplessly.
“You’re scared,” he concludes.
“Wouldn’t you be?”
“I don’t know. Look, I’m not going to lie, I can’t even begin to imagine what it feels like to be in your shoes. To live through what you two have lived through. I don’t think you can come out of that and not change as a person. That goes for both of you.”
I take a slice of pizza just to have something to do with my hands. I end up just tearing chunks out of it because I have zero appetite. Zero appetite and no idea what to think or do.
“All I’m saying is maybe don’t sabotage yourself,” Indy says.
I won’t make any promises.
“Whose side are you on anyway?” I grumble.
“I’m pretty sure everything I just said shows I’m on your side.”
“Doesn’t feel like it.”
“Might be because I’m starting to suspect being on your side possibly also means being on Adrian’s side,” he says calmly.
My jaw clenches, and I eye the mess I’ve made of the pizza on my plate.
How is it possible to feel even more lost right now than I ever did on the island?
“Come on,” Indy says. “He has to figure shit out. It doesn’t mean you have to remove yourself from the equation for him to do that. So get your ass out of this chair, go grab another pizza, go back home, and feed that man breakfast.”
I clench my jaw. “You’re a terrible influence.”
But I’m already out of my chair and heading toward the counter.
Adrian comes out of my bedroom the exact moment I step through the front door. His hair is a mess, and his eyes are sleepy, but the moment he sees me, he smiles.
I take him in greedily, gaze moving up and down him, taking quick swipes to record everything I can about the way he looks right now.
“Hey,” he says. “Where’ve you been?”
My heart gallops in my chest and butterflies are organizing a riot in my stomach.
“Breakfast,” I say.
His grin widens. “Pizza?”
I shrug. “Why not, right?”
His eyes go all soft on me. “Why not?”