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His fingers would be clasped in front of him in a white-knuckled grip, but he would release them to accept my outstretched hand in greeting. He would then rub damp palms down his dress pants.
I pulled at my too-tight collar.
The nervous little nerd—the beat of my heart—the goddamned bane of my existence wrecked me before I even laid eyes on him this time.
“Fucking hell,” I muttered to myself, punching the down button.
There had been complete silence between us the previous five years, but I hadn’t known how to fix the situation. The distance between us made shit easier. Out of sight out of mind—well, not really. Preston was in my thoughts twenty-four-seven.
Those years of silence stood like a necessary wall between us. And every passing day without hearing his voice or reading a text gifted from his elegant fingers had been harder rather than easier.
A muscle ticked in my jaw when the elevator slowed as it neared the thirteenth floor. I tucked myself against the back wall, readying for more people to join me in the space that suddenly felt too cramped and lacking in oxygen.
While I’d become a pro at small talk and social niceties, I wasn’t in the mood. Nor was I ready to face the one woman I could say without question I hated. She didn’t know how to love her precious son in the way he longed for and deserved.
Jacqueline would try my patience.
Preston would make me feel things I lusted for, emotions and actions that could all too easily be revealed if I wasn’t careful?—
The elevator doors slid open.
My breath fled from my lungs at the sight before me, the quiet huff of agony torn from my chest lost in the continued dings ringing in my ears.
Pale and head tipped sharply down as always, Preston shuffled forward into the elevator his teenage self had often called a trap of death.
Silence settled, oppressive and spine-tingling regardless of the fact he stared at the floor.
A rush of saliva filled my mouth as the sweet scent of vanilla and spice wafting off Preston’s freckled skin flooded my nose. He still used the same damn bodywash as when we’d been teens.
God. Damn.
I shuddered, having to yet again swallow down a groan as my groin stirred.
I’d jerked off countless times with his gel in our shared shower once I’d figured out my sexuality and recognized how badly I’d wanted to touch Preston with more than stepbrotherly love.
My balls ached as my dick thickened, making my slacks even more tight and uncomfortable.
Without lifting his head, Preston spun to face the doors that remained open, unaware of the electrical currents zapping over my skin toward my tingling balls.
My heartbeat pounded in my ears, and I fought to keep from panting loud enough he would realize he wasn’t alone.
The doors slid shut, leaving us in close proximity, and I curled my hands into fists so I wouldn’t seek his out to offer the comfort I knew he needed.
At least he stood with his back toward me, unaware?—
His head lifted when I’d expected him to curl in on himself and start counting aloud so he wouldn’t lose his shit over the confined space that had always made him need my assuring touch.
A shudder ripped through Preston at the initial movement of descent, and he stiffened.
I gritted my teeth, my nostrils flaring. I fought to fill my suddenly desperate lungs as the elevator sped us toward the ground floor.
Don’t turn around. Please. Wait—no. Do it. Grab hold of me and hang on for dear life. Press your face into my chest. Tremble against me, tell me how much you need me?—
“D-Drake?” he whispered without turning, like he didn’t want to lay eyes on the man who’d broken that promise to always have his back.
“Hey, Preston,” I rasped, my voice ragged and desperate. “You okay?”
“N-No.”
