The Locker Room(38)

I bring my finger to his chest where I slowly draw circles. “I like being around you, Knox. Even though it pains me to admit it.”

A deep laugh rumbles through his chest. “I wish I had that admission on camera.”

“No cameras in the bedroom.”

“Ever?” he asks, brows drawing high.

“Ever,” I answer sternly.

“Damn.” He brushes a stray hair off my forehead while his other hand holds firmly around my ribs.

Growing serious, I say, “Can we promise each other something?”

“Multiple orgasms? I don’t have to promise that, babe, it’s just going to happen.”

I roll my eyes. “No, not that.” Even though just looking at his large, strong hands, I know he can deliver.

“Then what?” He shifts so his body is completely flush against mine, his nose rubbing closely against mine.

How does he expect me to intelligently answer him when we’re this close? When I can practically taste him on my lips, when I can feel just how hard his entire body is from the countless hours he’s spent turning his physique into a well-oiled baseball machine?

“Um, I . . . uh.”

He laughs. “Spit it out, Ealson.”

“It’s hard when you’re all up in my business.”

“Well, get used to it, because this isn’t going to change.”

I can see that being very much true if the last few weeks have been any indication. He’s determined. When he has his sights set on something—in this case me—it seems like he’s all in. It amazes me.

Gathering myself and trying not to get lost in his soulful eyes, I say, “Can we promise that . . . uh, no matter what happens to us, we’ll always friends?”

“Putting a gravestone on our relationship before it even starts? That’s very morbid of you.” His voice is joking, but I can see the hurt in his eyes.

“I’m not putting a gravestone on it, I just . . . hell,” I sigh. “I like you a lot, Knox, more than I want to make known, and I like the fun friendship we have. I don’t want to lose that. And I know we’ve only known each other for a little while now, but I still want to keep hanging out with you.”

“Ah, I see. I’ve won you over and you’re finally admitting it.”

“Are you really going to rub it in?” I ask, playing my fingers over his lips.

He nips at them and says, “Yeah, because you’re stubborn as fuck.”

I laugh. It’s so true. I’m very stubborn.

“I might be. Is that something you think you can handle?”

“I always enjoy a challenge.” He moves in closer. “And to answer your question, yes, we will always be friends.”

“Even if we go out and then have a nasty breakup?”

“Not going to happen, the nasty breakup part. The going out part is inevitable.”

“Friends first?”

He sighs. “Friends first, fuck buddies second.”

He goes in for a kiss, but I stop his face with my palm. “Fuck buddies?”

He laughs. “Or passionate lovers.”

“Oh my God, don’t say lovers.”

He swipes the tip of his thumb across the underside of my breast and in seconds, all joking is gone. My veins ignite, sending my body into an inferno. He makes another swipe and I suck in a large breath, the growing ache between my thighs intensifying. It’s hard to believe that twelve hours ago I could barely open my eyes or lift my head, because right now I’m on fire, and it’s only because of this man beside me. It’s terrifying. It’s amazing. Like him.

One more swipe and I grip the back of his neck, threading my fingers through his hair.

“Are you going to kiss me?” I ask, my chest arching off the mattress, seeking more.

“Fuck, yes,” he says, his lips descending just as a large wail of a siren blasts in my room.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

“Holy fuck,” he says, leaping up and out of bed while covering his ears. “What is that?”

I do the same, trying to stop the piercing sound from rupturing my eardrums. “Fire alarm,” I shout. Worst. Timing. Ever. “We have to evacuate or else we’ll get in trouble. The RA checks.”

“Of course.” We’re both shouting at each other as we move around the room.

I slip on my hard-bottom slippers, throw a sweatshirt over my head, and follow him out the door where we find Lindsay and Dottie. As a group, we make our way down the staircase, which is lit up by the alarm, and out the door, finally gaining reprieve from the blistering sound.

“Holy fuck, that’s loud,” Knox says, his backpack slung over his shoulders. It looks miniature compared to his large body. “How often does that happen?”

“Once a month,” Lindsay says while taking a bite of a Pop-Tart she carried out with her.

Next to her, Dottie sips from her “Get a Life” mug and says, “You get used to it after a while.” She eyes us, and the way I’m standing awkwardly far away from Knox, hands in my sweatshirt pocket, looking anywhere but my friends in the eyes. “So, what’s going on between you two?”

“Nothing,” I say just as Knox says, “Fuck buddies.”

“Seriously?” Lindsay gapes.