Page 20 of Line Change

“Do you ever let anybody see you enjoy anything?” he asks.

“I don’t need an audience, Fraser.” I turn to make him stop staring and find his gaze fixed on my mouth. Heat pulls tight low in my stomach. He’s looking for a reaction. He always is. “What?”

“Nothing.” He pushes off the wall. “You’re bitchy again.”

“You bring it out in me.” It should make him laugh. Instead, his eyes drop briefly down my body.

“I bring something out in you.” He stops in the middle of the elevator. There’s plenty of room to move around him, but I don’t. Moving would make this into something when it isn’t.

Fraser comes another step closer.

“Are you planning to start another fight?” I ask. It would be easier if he were. I know what to do when Fraser is pissed off.

“Is that what you think we’re doing?” He comes close enough that I have to tip my head down to hold his gaze.

“Usually.” My voice doesn’t sound as steady as it did a second ago.

His smile changes. It gets slower. “You always look at my neck when you lie.”

“I don’t.” The lie is automatic and not very good.

“You’re doing it now.”

I am. The black lines disappear into the open collar of his shirt. Up close, I can see the damp shine of his skin above it and the jump of his pulse under the ink. I want to put my thumb there. I want to drag the shirt open and find out how far the tattoo goes.

I want to put my mouth on it.

Fraser hooks one finger into his collar and pulls it aside. Another inch of ink appears over his collarbone.

“Better?” he asks. My cock starts to fill.

I should step back. I stay where I am while he moves into my space, close enough that the front of his shirt brushes my jacket. His body is hot from the shower. He smells clean, with something darker underneath that belongs to his skin.

“You stare at everybody this much?” he asks.

“I’m not staring.” It’s getting harder to form the words with him this close.

“No?” He doesn’t give me any room back.

His finger is still caught in his collar. My eyes follow it. Ink winds over the bone and disappears beneath white fabric. I’ve seen him shirtless dozens of times, so none of this information is new. The shirt clings to the chest I’ve crashed into after goals. I’ve watched his thighs drive through turns at practice. None of that explains why I know his mouth is softer than the rest of his face, or that his bottom lip goes red when he bites it.

It’s red now.

I lick my lips.

Fraser goes completely still.

“Holy shit,” he says, and closes the last few inches between us.

“What?” My voice comes out rough.

My back hits the wall. Fraser doesn’t touch me. He doesn’t have to. His chest is almost against mine, his thigh close enough that one small movement would put it between my legs, and my cock goes hard so fast it hurts.

He looks down. The front of my pants is doing nothing to hide it.

I can’t explain this. There isn’t enough air in the elevator to build one of the explanations I’ve been using, and Fraser’s mouth is inches from mine.

He leans closer. For one second I think he’s going to kiss me. My lips part.