Page 100 of Hate You Always


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Guilt swamps me as I swing away and hustle down the corridor. Instead of heading to the bathroom, I fly by the door, speedwalking past it to the locker room. Even though the hallway is empty, my heart jackhammers a steady tattoo against my ribcage.

I pause outside the door and throw a cautious look over my shoulder to make sure no one’s around to see me sneak into the men’s locker room. The heavy metal door closes behind me with a soft rush of air as I slip inside the space.

It’s a surprise to find the place shrouded in darkness and shadows. Humidity from the showers and the pungent scent of sweat hang heavy in the air. Another shiver scampers across my flesh as I take a tentative step inside. It’s tempting to call out his name, but I have no idea if anyone else is around.

As I inch my way farther inside the area, I peek cautiously around the corner until the benches that run parallel to the lockers come into sight. The cinderblock walls are painted golden orange and the long rows of lockers are a shiny black. There’s a mural of the university mascot—a wildcat with its teeth bared and claws out.

The place is empty. No other players linger.

My heart continues to ratchet up as I step further inside the room, passing by more lockers. That’s when the sound of water catches my attention. There’s a thick stack of white towels off to the side as I peek around another corner and spot Ryder standing beneath the spray of water. His face is tipped upward toward the shower head and his arms are lifted to his hair. His shoulders are broad, and his chest is all finely honed muscle. His traps are equally defined as they taper in a V to his waist.

A punch of lust hits me square in the gut.

All right…maybe it hits a little lower.

Have I ever seen anything as sexy as Ryder, in all his naked glory?

My mouth turns cottony in response.

In the days that have passed by with no communication from him, I’ve repeatedly tried to convince myself that Ryder McAdams wasn’t anything special and I haven’t developed feelings for the guy.

Only now, as I eat him up greedily, do I realize I’ve been lying to myself.

Even though I’ve remained silent, he must feel the intensity of my perusal. His eyelids flutter as his gaze locks on mine, skewering me in place. Air gets wedged in my lungs as every muscle turns rigid. This must be what it feels like to be a prey animal sighted by a predator.

His arms slowly lower to his sides, the play of muscles bunching and flexing with the motion. “Come here, Juliette.”

It’s not a conscious decision on my part to slink closer. My feet automatically move with the need to follow his gruff command.

“Take your clothes off.”

My pulse quickens as I hesitantly glance over my shoulder. “What if someone walks in?”

My voice is so low and husky that it doesn’t sound like it belongs to me at all.

“That’s not going to happen.” Before I can throw up another roadblock, he says, “Get undressed.”

His demand arrows straight to my core before exploding like a firework as I shrug out of my jacket and toss it near the stack of towels before pulling off the sweater. My jeans are next as I toe off my shoes and then socks until I’m left in my panties and bra. Even though the shower room has turned steamy, gooseflesh erupts across my arms and I lift my hands to rub it away.

His gaze slides over me, heating every inch where it lingers. “Take off all of it.”

A thick lump wells in my throat, making it impossible to swallow. My fingers tremble as I reach around my ribcage and unfasten the snap at my spine. The stretchy material springs apart before the straps slink down my shoulders and arms, revealing the tips of my breasts before falling away. His gaze tracks each movement as the garment is tossed onto the growing stack of clothing. His cock turns hard before lengthening until it’s standing perfectly at attention.

I can’t stop staring. I’m mesmerized by the sight. All I can think about is what it felt like to sink to my knees in the alleyway and take him in my mouth for the first time.

“Panties,” he rasps.

I shove them down my hips and thighs until they puddle around my feet before kicking them away.

And then, I’m just as naked as he is.

It’s tempting to cover my breasts as the tips harden, but I force my arms to remain at my sides. I can tell by the way his gaze licks over me that he likes what he sees.

The massive boner is a dead giveaway.

I reach up and pull the elastic band holding my hair in a ponytail. The dark strands fall around my shoulders and down my back. I quickly gather the thick length into a bun at the top of my head so it doesn’t get soaked.

“Come here,” he growls, losing patience.

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