Page 62 of Endless Depths

“Morgan, do you have any fishy spider senses to report, yet?” Lawrence asks.

“Huh?”

Wes shuts the fridge and leans against it. “Apparently,Lawrence has taken a special interest in premonitions after your bad feeling about Cole came true.”

I scoff. “It wasn’t a premonition.” I narrow my eyes at Lawrence. “And I’m not a Magic 8 Ball.”

“Okay, okay,” Lawrence says. “Whatever it was, if you’re getting any bad feelings, I want to know who to stay away from, and I need to know if Javi’s cursed.”

I smirk. “Other than the curse of sharing a room with you? Nah.”

Lawrence frowns. “I think you mixed your tea leaves up. I’m the cursed one.”

Javi snickers.

“If I have to hear anotheryou hang up first, no you,I might throw myself over the rail on purpose,” Lawrence says.

Porcelain clinks as Javi lowers his mug to the table. “You can’t joke about heavy shit like that.”

Lawrence follows suit with more gusto, slamming his own mug down with an ominousthunk. “Are you my friend or my mom? It’s annoying as hell.”

For all that bluster about me and Cole making everyone miserable when we fight, Lawrence should look in the mirror he shares with Javi.

“I’m going to bed. Try not to kill each other. I don’t want to train someone new.”

I nearly slam into Cole in the hallway as he emerges from the head, freshly showered, towel around his waist and nothing else, cock just visible beneath the terry cloth, water still dewing on his pebbled skin.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

He startles in the most theatrical, obviously staged way. “Sorry. I didn’t see you there. I ran out of conditioner.”

“Your hair is an inch long.”

He flips invisible shoulder-length hair. “I’m trying to do more self-care.”

I grin. “Bullshit, Sunshine.”

He smiles all the way to his dimples, like the boy I’ve loved all my life, the man I missed this past year.

“Okay, fine. I wanted to smell like you.”

“Nah. You set a trap for me.”

“Me? I’d never.”

“Liar.” I open the door to our room. “Get your ass in here.” I snatch his towel from his waist on the way in.

Fuck. He’s been working out since I last saw him, the already tight muscles in his chest and thighs more defined.

I lock the door. “You don’t talk.”

He nods, submitting with blue eyes dilated. I want to tell him I need him, but I can’t do that.Hehas to.

I steal his mouth in a rough kiss, forcing my tongue inside, taking full advantage of the opportunity to get my fix after he deprived me. But the kiss doesn’t quench my thirst. It only makes it worse. I rock my hips into him, wishing we were skin to skin, resolve crumbling as I palm his pec and graze his nipple with my thumb, then work my other hand down his abs and around to squeeze his sexy ass.

But I can’t take it any further than that, and I definitely can’t take off my own pants. I don’t trust myself not to lose control and give him what we both want.

“What were you doing waiting for me in nothing but a slutty towel, hm?”