Page 46 of Undone

Because as if drawn by some magnetic, tauntingly permanent curse, I’m in Lily LaBlanc’s bedroom once more.

Tapping my heavy boots to the beat as “Ferrari” by The Neighbourhood plays from my phone’s speaker lying near my head, I try to convince myself to leave. The shower cuts off, the sound of rustling and movement, before the door opens and steam pours out across the room.

She’s in a baby blue satin robe, lace trim on the collar and wide bell sleeves that nearly hide her hands. Her hair is hidden in a gray towel twisted atop her head like a turban, skin red from the too-hot shower I know she was indulging in, but the pinkened color that still looks glassy from the warmth only makes me angry—mostly because it makes me fucking hard.

“That took for-fucking-ever,” I groan, not bothering to move, though I pull my eyes away from her distracting form.

“What are you doing here?”

Lily’s inquisitive and annoyed, more than surprised at my presence.

I push up on my elbows, lowering my gaze across her body in an unsubtle sweep. “You still groom yourself for hours like a fucking princess, huh? So high maintenance.”

Her eyes roll at the jab, turning back to her still-steamy bathroom to unravel her hair from the towel and putting some product from an amber glass bottle through her auburn locks, before beginning to brush it slowly, in sections, until each strand passes through the bristles like fingers through water. I follow her, leaning against the doorframe and watching through the mirror.

“Why are you here?” she asks, her eyes meeting mine in the glass. “I thought you had a game tonight.”

I flash my reddened knuckles. “Ejected.”

A frown pulls at Lily’s lips as she takes me in with renewed intensity. And it’s only then, as I realize what exactly she’s inspecting me for, that the cocky grin melts from my face. I turn and head back into her bedroom like I can ignore her seeking gaze.

She watches me, mimicking my previous position, hip against the doorframe, arms crossed.

“You’re okay?”

It wasn’t like this between us back then. Not since that night, under police lights and blood on auburn hair. I’d fought a lot in high school, an instigator and enforcer—trained to be exactly what I was—but only on the ice. Lily wasn’t afraid of me, she never had been, but there was a part to my intensity on the ice that made her cheeks warm. That made her squirm in her seat.

Now it’s only concern.

Her palm touches my cheek, and I flinch—but immediately grab her hand to keep it pressed there. I don’t even remember seeing her move, as if I blinked and she appeared right here, so small beneath me, but full of power over me.

And just like they always have, daydreams plague my brain. Of her younger, holding me this same way, the first person in years to touch me so peacefully. Of how I imagined us as adults, desperately in love and attached at the hip. How I’d quietly come home after a game and wake her up with my mouth between her legs—

Fuck. Make it stop.

“I don’t know,” I say, voice raspy, before I exchange it for something sharper. “Do you want to check? Lick my wounds?”

Her grip forms against my face, nails pressing into my skin, blue eyes narrowing in frustration.

“Bite me,” she snaps out, tone angry and shrill.

Fuck me.

“Happily,” I growl out with a laugh, grabbing her delicate wrist in my hand. I sink my teeth carefully into the skin of her palm.

Lily’s mouth parts on a gasp, before slipping into a moan as her feet slide, as she tries to stay upright. I don’t try to help her, pushing her back into the wall, pressing my knee between her legs where they open for me almost on instinct.

Fuck, this is exactly what I need.

She’s not only in the silk dressing gown, I realize as I spot a piece of expensive black lace peeking out at me from the curve of her hip where one side of her robe has slipped up.

“If you want me to leave, say it now.” My words are dark against her hand, dripping in anticipation and tightly leashed desperation. “I mean it, Lil. I’ve been waiting too fucking long for this.”

“Are you going to fuck me?” she asks and my eyes close. Huffing a breath, I shake my head. The question is too similar, bringing every memory of her to the front of my mind.

Are you going to kiss me? Are you going to touch me? Are you going to fuck me?

“Absolutely not.”