Free Slide by Garrett Leigh Page B

little while later.
    “Can you close the blinds? The sun’s going to kill me when it comes up.”
    I moved to the window, grateful, as usual, for an excuse to look anywhere but at his bare torso. “Is that why you chose this room instead of mine?”
    “What? Yeah, that big window’s a demon. Shit, I need to do some laundry.”
    I heard him shut the drawer of the dresser and move around the room behind me. When I heard him sit down on the bed, I turned to face him. Damn. He still had no shirt on.
    Pete scrubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “I’m going to pay for this later. Hey, can I look at your ink properly?”
    “What?”
    “Your tattoo,” he repeated with an encouraging smile. “Can I see it?”
    I stepped toward him and cautiously extended my arm. “Um, okay.”
    He sat up and took my wrist in his hand, turning it gently as he traced the sleeve design that covered my forearm. His touch burned a path down my arm as he took in every nuance and detail. He stopped over the scars that lurked beneath the ink. My breath caught, but he didn’t look away. A heartbeat later, he continued his journey along my wrist until he’d laced his fingers with mine. He squeezed my hand, and suddenly my heart was thudding for an entirely different reason.
    His touch was electrifying; the current flowed through me and set my veins on fire. I shuddered. It was too much… too much and not enough. Pete raised his eyes, and something in my face alarmed him—something that he misread as rejection. He shifted his weight and leaned away, letting his grip on me go slack. Panic surged through me. I didn’t want that to happen. I couldn’t let that happen. I leaned forward, blood pounding in my ears, and kissed him the way I suddenly knew I’d always wanted to.
    Pete stood, kissing me back with his whole body, and the humming current between us went into overdrive. He tilted his head back and the motion brought our hips closer together. He opened his mouth to deepen the kiss, and I was gone. I fell into it headfirst. He tasted amazing—like beer and mint. I pulled him closer and felt his chest connect with mine. He felt warm, familiar. He felt right and I could’ve kissed him forever.
    But we didn’t have forever. The world was all too real, and a few moments later, he pulled away and dropped his head to my shoulder to muffle his groan. He reached out and grabbed my hand so I could feel his heart hammering through his chest.
    “Man, you do some crazy shit to me.”
    I didn’t respond with words. I couldn’t. Instead I took his face in my hands, pushed him back onto the bed, and kissed him until we both passed out.

CHAPTER EIGHT
     
     
    I WOKE up the following day with a pounding headache and every part of my body entangled with Pete. I’d slept like that with Ellie more times than I could remember, but for some reason the warmth and security of Pete’s arms was the scariest thing I’d ever felt. I slipped away from the bed while he slept, and I spent the next few days avoiding him.
    Avoiding him felt wrong—hell, I knew it was wrong—but I didn’t know what else to do. Sleeping that close to him had sent my brain into overdrive.
    I missed him, though. The ache in my chest for him grew and grew until I finally had a lightning-bolt moment of clarity. What the hell was I doing? He’d seen me at my worst… screaming into my pillow one day, and catatonic on the fire escape another, and made it clear he still wanted me. And I wanted him… God, I wanted him.
    The moment I made up my mind to face him, I pretty much dropped everything I was doing and ran all the way home, but he wasn’t there, and when he finally did come home, any plans I had to bare my soul had to wait. He had stomach flu. I’d heard of that, though the phrase had never made any sense to me. I mean, what did that make normal flu? Head flu? Throat flu? Not that it mattered. All that mattered was Pete, and while he was sick, my imploding brain had to