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I'm thinking a lot. And it's all on the tip of my tongue. Either I go back to my room or I tell him. Those are the two options. I'm not sure which is worse.
His palm presses against my cheek.
Fuck, his skin against mine—
The comfort of the gesture—
I need that right now.
And I need him to know.
I stare back at him. "That I need a shower."
He motions to his bathroom. "I'll join you."
Yes. That's perfect.
I nod. Follow him into the bathroom. Take my time stripping him out of every layer. He does the same.
Then I step into the tub and I soak up every drop of him.
* * *
After, we help each other towel dry and collapse in his bed.
I shouldn't sleep here. I shouldn't even be here with Emma in the next room.
But I can't tear myself away.
It feels too good, having his warm, wet skin pressed against mine.
He wraps his arms around me. One under the crook of my neck. The other over my waist, his palm resting on my stomach.
I'm in his arms, my back against his chest, his breath warming my neck.
I should be melting.
I should be forgetting everything.
But those words are screaming at me.
Brendon, I have to tell you something.
It's a simple enough start. Ominous, yeah, but simple.
"Hey." He runs his fingers through my wet hair. They skim my ear. My neck. My shoulder. It's impossibly soft. Like he's trying to drive me crazy.
"Hey yourself." I lean into his touch. My eyelids flutter together. Fuck, that feels good. He feels good. All of this—I can't lose it.
But I can't keep hiding this.
I need him to know.
It should be simple. I need Brendon to know. So I tell him.
But my mouth is sticky.
My hands are numb.
