Page 103 of Any Port in a Storm

I want so badly to tell him. But the sheer terror of what could happen if things go bad—I just can’t fathom losing him.

He’s everything.

TWENTY-NINE

now

As it turns out, Nick does want me to join him in the shower after his run. It’s an activity that we somehow never managed to explore together when we dated last year, and it rises quickly to top my list of favorite things.

“This reminds me of that day in the pool,” I muse, running a hand over his bare chest when we slip under the water together.

“What about it?”

I wrinkle my nose. “You were making jokes about being my alpha. Grace had said something about you and Max as my harem.”

Nick bursts out laughing. “Grace has quite the talent for making things awkward.”

“I think she just likes to upset Max.”

“Yeah,” he muses, running a hand over my hip. “Their…dynamic has always interested me.”

“She says she hates him.”

“I think we both know that’s not true.”

I snicker. “Oh, absolutely not.”

Nick leans down to kiss the curve of my collarbone. “Can we not talk about my roommate right now?”

“I would be happy not to talk about your roommate right now.” I lose myself to the feeling of his lips on me; his skin under my fingers.

After a minute, Nick trails his hand down my thigh. “Would you be interested in helping me with my post-workout workout?”

“Oh, I wasn’t aware you needed more exercise.”

“I need it very badly,” he whispers.

“Are you preparing for a competition, or something?”

“Mm,” he hums against my lips. “Olympics.”

I can’t fight the laugh. “You’re very committed to this bit.”

“Now, Laurel,” he says, sliding his hand over the place thrumming with need between my legs, “I’m very committed to everything I do.”

“I know this,” I say with a small gasp as he teases me with his thumb. “Far be it from me to deny you the opportunity to practice.”

The glint in his eyes then is quite possibly the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.

When we finally stumble out of the shower forty-five minutes later, I feel like I’ve had one hell of a workout, too. “I didn’t expect that to be so hard on my thighs,” I moan, flopping onto my bed.

“Sorry,” Nick offers, sitting beside me and not sounding very sorry at all.

“I don’t think you mean that,” I tease, leaning into him.

He brushes a kiss to my cheek. “Not sure how I could regret what we just did. But I am sorry you’re sore.”

“Maybe I’ll have to start jogging with you?” I suggest. “Get my quads into better shape for next time.”