Page 75 of Shattered Dreams

To everyone around us, I’m sure he just looks like a concerned athlete, and not like a concerned boyfriend.

It would be so easy to kiss him right here. Right now.

I want to.

Something tells me if I did, he wouldn’t stop me like he probably should. Hell, knowing Dre, he’d probably slam me up against the treadmill and shove his tongue down my throat because he’s Andre Taylor, and nothing can touch him. He can have whatever—whoever—he wants.

I meet his gaze as he reaches out and settles a hand on my shoulder. I feel the warmth from his palm soaking my shirt, but I’m not entirely sure it’s him‌ because I feel hot. Sweaty. Breathless.

And I know it’s not entirely from my workout.

“Yeah.” I clear my throat. “Never better.”

I love him so much… so much more than I thought I ever could.

“You were supposed to meet me at the bar. I was worried when you weren’t there.”

“Sorry. I must’ve lost track of time.”

“It’s okay.” He shrugs, like it really is okay. “What do you want to do instead?” His voice is low as his gaze drifts from my eyes to my mouth. It hovers for the briefest moment, and the heat between us can be felt like an inferno. Or maybe it’s just me.

Maybe it’s just what he does to me.

I step into his space just an inch. Not enough to draw attention or concern, just close enough I know only he can hear me.

I know what I want to say. Hell, I want to say it, but I’m not sure this is the time or place.

Not because I’m embarrassed, but because right now all the blood rushing in my body is pooling to my cock, and last I checked, Andre was not into being watched by strangers, and I don’t want anyone to know Dre the way I do.

Three words should be easy to say. But somewhere between the heat blooming between us, and the part of my brain that is responsible for speech, they disappear. At least, two of them disappear, because the only word that I can remember how to say at the moment is, “You.”

Andre smirks as he roves his gaze over me—standing in front of him, shirtless in nothing but my running shorts and Nikes, covered in sweat and radiating heat.

“Well, then, perhaps you should get showered,” he taunts.

I shake my head, a smile coursing over my face that is irrefutable.

“Pretty sure the locker room is full.” I move past him, purposefully knocking into him hard enough that he stumbles just slightly. I catch the gaze of one of the guys lifting the kettlebells, looking at me like I’d just punched Santa Claus.

I don’t wait for Dre to catch up. I don’t look ‌behind me. But I know without a doubt, those are his footsteps behind me, and I can’t help but smile.

Because in a room full of people, in this lodge in the middle of fucking nowhere, it’s not some woman he’s chasing.

It’s me.

It’s me.

I round the bend to the elevators and keep going.

“Where are you going?” he calls out.

I turn to look at him, and I can see the feral look in his eyes from where I stand.

“The stairs.”

He looks around, noting we’re alone. At least right now, but that’s not to say anyone can’t come off the elevator at any minute, and that there won’t be someone on it when we get on.

He narrows his eyes at me in confusion, and I saunter towards him, holding his gaze. I cover my palm over the button and lean in closer, close enough my lips brush his.