But right now, in this hotel room, there’s nowhere to hide from what we both know…
That whatever this thing is between us, it’s far from over.
Even if it’s killing us both.
NINE
tate
I didn’t sleeplast night.
Every time I closed my eyes, I kept hearing my own voice saying the words I almost let slip out.
Now I can’t even stop a fucking beach ball without thinking about...
About what? About his hands on my skin? About the way he made me feel things I’d never felt before? About how he opened a door I’ve been trying to slam shut for two years?
Christ. I almost told him everything. Almost admitted that he’s been living rent free in my head since Vegas, that every time I see him behind the bench I think about that night and what it felt like to finally understand who I really am.
The humiliation burns through my chest like acid.
At some point around three in the morning, I gave up pretending to sleep and just watched him. He sleeps on his side, one arm tucked under his pillow, his breathing deep and even. His hair falls across his forehead the same way it did that night two years ago.
He looks younger when he’s sleeping. Less guarded.
Which makes me hate myself even more for still wanting him.
The shower turns on in the bathroom, jarring me. Zane’s up. Time to get my shit together and get out of here before I say something else I’ll regret.
I roll out of bed and throw my clothes into my bag, not bothering to fold anything. I just stuff it all in and zip it up. My hands shake as I pack, adrenaline making my movements jerky.
The bathroom door opens just as I reach for the strap of my gear bag.
Fuck.
Zane walks out in a cloud of steam with a towel wrapped around his waist, water still beading on his broad shoulders. His dark hair is slicked back, his ice blue eyes locking with mine. His knowing gaze and tense jaw tell me he understands exactly what I’m doing and why.
Neither of us speaks for a long moment.
“Morning,” he says finally.
“Yeah.” I grab my bag and sling it over my shoulder. “I’m heading down for breakfast.”
“About last night... ” He pauses and pushes back his hair when it falls over his eyes.
“What about it?” I snap.
“You were going to say something. About what you think about when you’re in the net.”
Fuck. Of course he caught that. Of course he’s going to push for more.
“Doesn’t matter.”
“It does to me.”
“Why?” I turn to face him, anger flaring. “So you can add it to your collection? Another weakness to exploit?”
“That’s not what this is.”
