I might just want this.
I scoop up my skates and turn on my heel, heading for the locker rooms. “You can stay out here, I’ll be back out when I’m ready.”
They stay put, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want them to follow me. The locker room is quiet, the girls having cleared out while I was distracted by my bodyguards.
The silence presses in as I head to my locker, shoving my skates inside before grabbing my shower kit.
Washing off the proof of my desire is my top priority.
I shed my clothes and peel off my socks and slip into my shower shoes, the rubber slapping softly against the tiled floor. I hang my towel on the hook, just outside the shower. The overhead lights hum, casting a faint glow as I step into the showers and turn the knob. The pipes groan before warm water rushes over my skin, washing away the sweat, the tension, the lingering heat curling low in my belly.
I let my head fall back, eyes closed as I drag my fingers through my damp hair, reaching for the shampoo. The lather works through my strands, thick and fragrant, but as I scrub, a sensation prickles at the back of my neck.
A presence. Someone watching. I swallow, my heartbeat kicking up. One of them must have followed me. Of coursethey did. I keep my eyes closed, not ready to face whoever it is. Not ready to see what’s written on their face.
I rinse the soap from my hair, pressing my palms against the tile to steady myself before blinking my eyes open and glancing over my shoulder.
And I stop breathing.
Because it’s not Carson. Or Graham. Or Hunter.
It’s Finn.
And he’s standing in the spray with me, his clothes already soaked through, his chest rising and falling with something wild. My stomach clenches. My pulse roars.
I should scream. I should run. Do something.
Instead my lips part on a breath. On his name.
His lips curve into a slow, unnerving smile.
“Miss me, Willow?”
CHAPTER 23
Willow
My breath is ragged,the warm spray of the shower rolling over my skin, but it’s not the water making my knees weak.
It’s him.
Finn stands before me, dripping, unmoving, watching.
Water beads along the angles of his face, his dark lashes heavy, his sharp blue eyes locked onto me like a predator who’s finally caught his prey.
My fingers twitch at my sides, my entire body pulsing with the awareness of him. I should move. Or cover myself. But my feet stay planted, my lips parting slightly when he takes a single step closer.
“Miss me, Willow?”
I don’t answer. I can’t.
He lifts a hand, dragging the backs of his fingers along my bare arm, the touch so featherlight it sends a shiver straight down my spine. I don’t stop him.
The way he watches me—possessive, certain I belong to him whether I admit it or not—makes my heart hammeragainst my ribs. My breath comes faster. And I can’t deny it…I want it.
He must hear it, must sense it, because his lips curve just slightly, his voice dropping to something dark and intimate.
“You look so pretty when you tremble, you know that?” His fingers trail lower, skating just beneath my ribs, and I gasp—then moan.
