Page 68 of Embrace

I shouldn’t be surprised. This is what we do, but I’m speechless for the entire six seconds.

His body is hot, hotter than I expected, andwet. So wet it clings to me like a sponge, transferring all the heat and slickness of his body to mine. I can nearly taste the salty chlorine water on my tongue. I’ve become a human towel.

Then Kian stiffens, and I know he’s realized what he’s done. Hisrough curse is muffled, and even that sends a tiny electric jolt somewhere low. He pulls back, his hands on my shoulders. “Oh shit, I didn’t realize.”

“That you’re soaking wet?!” With my arms lifted out from my body, I stare at the Kian-shaped splotch of water on my shirt and leggings.

He hands me a towel. “Here. I’ll get you a change of clothes. Come on.”

He skips using a towel for himself, grabs my hand, and drags me behind him, water dripping across the hardwood as his housemates jeer. My gaze tries and fails to stay anywhere away from his body. I’ve got the perfect view of his back, hard muscles, and broad shoulders.

When we’re in his room, the door shuts behind us, the soft sound of Bon Iver is playing, and I forget how to act normal. I’ve been in his room before.Sleptin it. But right now, with him rummaging through his dresser, still dripping, with that focused look taking over his face, I feel hot. His brows furrow, and he’s biting the corner of his pink bottom lip, white teeth pressed down on the skin. It makes me wonder what it would feel like, having those teeth—

“Everything’s in the laundry, but I’ve got thisStar WarsT-shirt?” He holds up the gray, worn-in graphic tee, a frayed hem on the sleeve and a faded image.

I nod quickly, as if him looking at me long enough might reveal my thoughts. “This is good.”

I shrug out of my wet crewneck, glad for the sports bra underneath because the chlorine stings. He hands me the sweats, his gaze brushing past my tattoos for the briefest second. I reach for the waistband of my leggings, shrugging them down.

“I’m going to shower,” Kian says hurriedly, heading into the bathroom. “I’ll be quick.”

I sit in his clothes, letting my gaze roam his room. I go to his wall of vinyls, some stacked high, others arranged by genre on hisshelf. At his desk he has pictures with his friends. There’s one tucked into a black moleskin sketchbook. It’s of an older man, his dad I think, carrying a young Kian. There’s a tiny drawing of a rainbow on the back of the picture.

I’ve just opened the first page when I realize what I’m doing. This is private. I drop it, just as the bathroom door creaks open and Kian steps out in only a towel.

He’s so comfortable in his body, like he’s in the exact right place all the time. I try not to watch his post-shower routine for too long. He gets dressed in a 2023 Frozen Four champions T-shirt and gray sweats.

Then Kian sits on his bed, flopping back on it as he stretches like a cat. He takes up the entire mattress before he shifts to lie on his side, propped up on one elbow, and a hand cradling his head. “Okay, let’s start.”

I stare at him from the swivel chair. “At yourdesk, Romeo.”

“But if we lay here, it’ll feel less like we’re studying,” he argues.

“What kind of tutor gets into her student’s bed?” I say the words and hear the mocking response almost instantly. I know he’s thinking it when he rolls off his bed, and that’s why I blurt, “Well, my kind, I guess. That’s no secret.”

Kian pulls up the shorter plastic stool, letting me have his cushioned chair. Then he watches me for what feels like an eternity, but he doesn’t agree or say anything I’ve already thought in my head. “You smell like chlorine.”

“I wonder why. Now show me your assignment. Then we’ll go over your previous ones so you’ll be ready for your test on Friday.”

There’s a faint smile on his face as he pulls out his work. “It’s cute that you memorized my syllabus.”

“If I left it to you, you’d miss your exam because you lost track of time in your hot tub.”

“Hey, that was a onetime thing. I’m barely ever in it.” He seesthe look I give him. “I’m serious. The last time I wanted to use it, I’m pretty sure Dylan had a girl in there.”

I laugh, because I know exactly who that girl is. Her clothes smelled like chlorine when I tossed them onto my laundry pile at my parents’ house.

“How’s Neha, by the way? I’ve been meaning to ask you when we can visit them all again. I got the kids Dalton jerseys.”

The fact that he even remembers the women’s shelter coordinator’s name throws me off. I thought it was a one-off, something he did to make the whole letter thing up to me.

“You got them jerseys?”

He shrugs. “Of course.”

Something strong and foreign stirs violently in my chest, creating a chasm that splinters right through me. It’s strong, the urge nearly blasting through me before I appease it by lunging forward and wrapping my arms around him.

There’s a low, rough breath that escapes him, but he doesn’t hesitate to put his arms around me. Hugging Kian is never a mistake. He makes every single touch feel fated, like he’s timed it perfectly and will always return it.