Page 35 of Full Split

“So?” he asks.

“So what?”

“My prize.”

“You did top your score,” I admit. “I wasn’t sure it was possible.”

“You agreed because you didn’t think I could do it?”

I laugh. “I would never bet against you, Niles. The second you said it, I knew I was fucked.”

“So, tell me.”

I swallow. “I did. I think you’re dangerous.”

He waits. He knows there’s more. Of course there’s more.

“You’re dangerous because you’re beautiful. Because you’re confident. Because you’re sharp and funny and everything about you makes it impossible to ignore you.”

“That’s a lot of pretty words to say I make you hard.”

He doesn’t say anything else. Just watches me, drinking in every word and movement of my body as I word vomit the truth I’ve been trying to escape from for months.

“It’s more than that and you know it. If it was just that, I could walk away. Pretend this isn’t happening, keep my morals and my sanity in check and take a cold shower.”

I take a deep breath, because as much as it hurts to admit these things, it’s also cleansing, like a heavy weight in the pit of my stomach is lifting.

“You consume me,” I say. “And yeah… you make me hard. Harder than anyone ever has. And I don’t understand it. But it’s a problem.”

He laughs—just once—then says, “Show me.”

“W-what?”

“I just want to see. I won’t touch, I promise. I just want to see.”

The way his voice drops, husky and low, wraps around my brain and shuts everything else off.

I shift and pull myself up to the edge of the tub. My erection is obvious, straining against the front of my swim shorts.

“Take it out,” he whispers. “I want to see it.”

I start to object. But he moves too, climbing onto the edge, mirroring me.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

“Niles…”

“I need to know.”

“Know what?”

“If you’ll like what you see.”

“There’s nothing about you I wouldn’t like.”

“You don’t know that.”

“It’s not like I haven’t seen you before?—”