Book #3 in the Medley Series
ZEKE MITCHELL:
With the World Championship in swimming approaching and our medley team in better condition than ever, nothing can stop us.
Expect, as the season starts, an old injury rears its ugly head again, potential...
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Zeke lifts his head from where it was cradled against my neck, and the dance floor around us fades away.
No one else exists in this little bubble we've created.
All night, I've been sneaking glances at him - quietly admiring the way he wears that suit - but since the ceremony, he hasn't looked at me once.
Until I asked him to dance. I don't know how long we've stood here, swaying gently, but I've had his undivided attention for all of it, causing my head to swim with too many conflicting desires that I can't seem to think straight.
It doesn't help that when his eyes come back into sight above me, they're hooded, flooded with need.
"Want to head upstairs, May baby?" he asks, his voice rough, scratched with lust.
He's staring at me so heatedly, the intent clearly spelled out in his expression; I don't notice the hesitation initially.
Behind his bravado and the smile women worldwide have been falling in love with for the past decade, there's insecurity.
Like he knows that we're straddling a line. That by touching me this way, looking at me like that, saying my name is such a voice, he's pushing the boundaries of our friendship. And maybe he remembers that every time it's happened in the past, it hasn't ended well.
He's scared, I realize, to fuck up our relationship.
I don't know why his nerves calm me, but they do. My pulse settles down, at least a fraction; only pure possibility is making it race now.
My hands are steady when I lift my arms to link them around his neck. They don't tremble. Neither does my voice, as I look into those eyes and answer, "Yes, please."
Emotions rush over Zeke's face in quick, naked succession: surprise, glee, apprehension, and lust.
The last one wins out, blowing his pupils wide as he grins wolfishly down at me, all predator. "Come along, then."
He grabs one of my hands and all but tows me from the room. We head towards the elevator down the hallway, and I practically have to run to keep up with him. "Slow down, Zee." I laugh. "Little legs back here."
He slows marginally, looking back at me. His cheeks are an adorable pink, and he looks younger than a minute ago. Less all-powerful deity and more excited golden retriever. "Sorry. I got carried away..." He cocks his head, looking me up and down, an idea taking form in his head. "Hmm."
I don't know if it's growing up together or if he's just that easy to read, but it doesn't take me long to figure out what he's thinking. "If you even suggest fireman-carrying me upstairs, I will march back into that ballroom."
He blinks, apparently taking my threat seriously. He should. "Piggyback ride?"
I laugh, stepping in close and leaning up on my toes, where I wait for him to lower his head - damned height difference. Once he dugs, I place a featherlight kiss on the corner of his mouth, moving my mouth to his ear. "Patience, grasshopper."
