Page 22 of Full Split

A crunch behind me makes me turn. Niles is standing at the kitchen island, grinning as he bites down on a raw carrot stick. He doesn’t look guilty for staring. In fact, he looks pleased with himself.

"How long have you been standing there?" I ask, trying not to let my voice catch.

"Not long enough," he says, raking his eyes down my body.

I instinctively pull my shirt closed where it’s gaping. His eyebrow lifts and he shrugs, as if to say he likes the new view just fine.

His eyes drop to my crotch. I shift, and he smirks, letting me know he notices the way my swim trunks tighten.

"Stop it," I mutter.

"You’ve been avoiding me,” he says pointedly. His voice is teasing, but I know him well enough to recognize the slight tinge of hurt in his eyes.

“I’ve been busy.”

“If either of us thought a little separation would do us good, I can definitively say it didn’t help. You might have actually gotten hotter in the last week or two.”

“You can’t say things like that.”

“Why not?” He moves around the counter, and I instinctively take a step back. Niles chuckles. “You’re not afraid of me are you, Wyatt? I won’t hurt you.” He pauses, leaning back with a wicked little glint. "Unless you want me to."

I should walk away, but I don’t. Can’t. Because, God help me, I’m looking too. I’m frozen to the spot, my eyes absorbing every inch of him in front of me.

The way he’s leaning back stretches out his torso, accentuating his cut abs. His body is lean, taut with corded muscle. Practically hairless, save for the thin line below his navel that disappears into low-slung shorts. Two puckered scars beneath his pecs catch the light. They are physical proof of his strength. They’re healed now, barely pink, but I remember when they were new. I remember the day he first swam in my backyard without abinder. The first time he ran a 5k shirtless, flanked by me and Weston, grinning like the sun itself.

He was always confident. Always knew who he was. But those scars marked something else. Something irreversible.

And standing here, I can’t deny it anymore. He’s beautiful. Not just his body, though that’s certainly part of it. I can no longer deny that I find him attractive. Desirable, even.

What stands apart is the fire in him. The stubborn courage. The self-assurance that makes people either admire or fear him.

It’s dangerous.

Because he’s going to get what he wants. He knows it. I know it.

How long I’m able to stay strong in my own convictions remains to be seen, but I’ve never seen Niles Pruitt set his mind on something and not achieve his goals. And I’m ever aware of the weakness eating me up from the inside.

Pulse racing, I grab the tray of marinated chicken for the grill and step outside. He follows with the serving platters and foil packets of veggies and potatoes. Our hands brush as he hands them to me. Neither of us says anything.

During dinner, Weston teases Niles about a date he’s considering for tonight. Niles looks down at his phone screen, and Aimee leans over to look.

“Ooh, he is hot. But… how old is he?”

“Old enough to punish me. Young enough to keep up. Hopefully.”

My food turns to ash in my mouth. It takes half my glass of water to swallow it down.

“Niles definitely has a type,” Weston says, shuddering dramatically.

“What can I say, I have daddy issues,” Niles shrugs with a smirk.

I nearly choke on my water.

Niles glances at me, lips curling likeThe Grinch Who Stole My Goddamn Sanity.

“It’s hard though,” Niles says, with feigned exasperation. “I just can’t find the right Daddy to punish me and ruin my little boy pussy the way I need.”

What the—That does it. Water explodes from my lips and nose, and I accidentally squeeze the glass too hard. It cracks and falls to the ground, shattering across the patio.