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4
VAUGHN
I showered in record time, not wanting to use up all of the hot water when Rebel had been in that pool so much longer than I had. I dried off and crawled into bed, listening to the old pipes squeak and complain while the others used the bathrooms.
But the longer I lay there, the stronger the urge was to get up and scrub my hands again. Not because they were dirty, but because the back of my hand burned from where Kian had touched it. I couldn’t stop thinking about the way his skin felt against mine. Familiar and yet so foreign.
Scrubbing it raw felt like the only way to get the feeling to stop.
I’d been so careful not to touch him since I’d moved back here, knowing the reaction it created.
It was a reaction I’d fought most of our teenage years.
One that was an automatic reaction to resist even now.
I tossed and turned, the sheets too smooth, too soft.
Nothing like Kian’s calloused fingertips, rough from the physical labor he did every day.
I flipped onto my stomach and groaned into my pillow. Only that was worse. Because now my dick was rubbing against the sheets and the mattress. I was hard and desperately wishing there was a person beneath me.
All because he’d touched the back of my damn hand.
I was a joke if one tiny touch could have this much effect. I didn’t want it. I couldn’t want it.
Yet, I knew exactly what I was going to do. I shoved my knees up, resting my weight on one forearm and making enough room to get my other hand beneath me.
I fisted my cock viciously, giving in to the desire that had flooded in the moment Kian had shown even the tiniest bit of affection.
It was like being transported back to my teen years, including the rushing need to come way too quickly.
But I kept going, not wanting to draw it out. Not wanting to take pleasure in wanting him the way I did.
Nothing good came from the two of us. It never had. Caleb and his friends were proof nothing changed in this town. The same people were still doing the same fucked-up shit, while the cops looked the other way.
Starting something up with Kian would only end the same way it had last time.
I couldn’t do that again. To either of us.
But it didn’t stop my body from wanting him.
I jerked my shaft, stifling noises of pleasure I didn’t want to feel.
A knock at the door froze me in place. Shit. Had I even locked it?
“Busy,” I ground out.
But the door handle turned anyway, and I frantically flipped onto my back, yanking the covers up over me. “What the fuck? I said I’m busy.”
Kian pushed open the door, the smattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks evident, even in the dim light. His bare chest still glittered with water droplets that had flicked off his hair.
Without any permission from me, my gaze rolled down his body. Over well-defined pecs, abs, and those lines that ran either side of his hips, dipping below the white towel wrapped around his waist.
He smirked when my gaze finally lifted to his face. “Heard you making all sorts of noises. Just came in to make sure you were okay.”
I hoped it was dark enough that he couldn’t see me blushing. I was sure I was, my cheeks blazed with heat. “Stubbed my toe.” It was a ridiculous excuse, but it was the best I had on short notice.
Much like mine had, his gaze tracked down, heating a path of fire over my naked chest.