Make an excuse and head to bed

I busied myself wiping nonexistent sauce from the table. "Just tired. Exams, moving, the whole..." I gestured vaguely, my pulse skipping when James's deep murmur carried through the wall as he took a work call. "Y'know."

Bella snorted, flicking a grain of rice at me. "Bullshit. You're doing that thing where you chew your lip raw when you're lying." She leaned in, elbows on the table. "Did Matt text you? Because if that wanker's—"

"No," I cut in too quickly, the word sharp as a paring knife. My thighs pressed together under the table, fabric catching on damp skin. Every nerve felt scraped raw, hypersensitive—like the time I'd played a whole match with sunburn. The thought of James—*Mr. Hartwell*—just rooms away made my stomach clench. His aftershave still clung to the air, that maddening hint of bergamot and salt.

Bella tilted her head, skeptical. "Then why are you breathing like you've just sprinted the length of the pitch?"

I swallowed hard, my fingers twisting the hem of my hoodie. The fabric was suddenly suffocating, clinging to my overheated skin. Every nerve was on fire, prickling with awareness—not just of James's presence in the house, but of the ache building low in my belly. The thought of his hands—those broad, rough palms—sliding under my hoodie made my breath hitch.

"Just... need a bit if time," I muttered, pushing back from the table so fast my chair screeched. Bella's raised eyebrows burned into my back as I bolted down the hall, my bare feet slapping against the hardwood. The bathroom door was ajar—still steamy from earlier—and I caught a whiff of James's shower gel lingering in the damp air. My throat tightened.

My bedroom door clicked shut behind me, the sound absurdly loud in my own ears. The duvet was still rumpled from this morning, and I practically fell onto it, fingers already fumbling under the waistband of my shorts. The second my fingertips brushed my clit, a whimper escaped my lips—fuck, I was *soaked*. All it took was the memory of those runner's hands, the way his knuckles had looked gripping the water glass, and I was circling faster, hips lifting off the mattress.

The ceiling light flickered—Bella's dad had been meaning to fix it—and I imagined it was his shadow looming over me instead, those broad shoulders blocking out the glow. My other hand twisted in the sheets, biting my lip so hard I tasted copper. God, the way he'd looked at me in the hallway, like he could see right through my towel. Like he knew.

Fantasies spun behind my eyelids: his calloused fingers hooking under the waistband of my shorts instead of mine, that deep voice murmuring *"I could smell you from the hallway"* before his tongue followed the path his gaze had taken earlier. The heat of his mouth on my collarbone, the scrape of stubble between my thighs—Christ, I arched into my own touch, picturing his hands pinning my hips down while his knees pressed mine apart.

The mattress creaked as I twisted, one hand fisting the duvet while the other worked faster, slick sounds filling the quiet room. In my head, James didn’t tease—he took, those marathon-runner thighs spread wide as he dragged me onto his lap, my back to his chest so I could feel every groan vibrate through me. *"You’re so fucking tight,"* he’d growl, one hand circling my throat while the other—

A floorboard groaned in the hallway. My fingers stilled instantly, breath hitching. The muffled sound of socked feet passing my door sent a jolt through me—had he heard the bed? The wet slide of my fingers? My pulse hammered against my ribs as I imagined him pausing outside, ear pressed to the wood, his own cock hardening at the sound of me falling apart just feet away. The fantasy was so vivid I could almost smell the clean sweat of his skin, taste the salt of his neck where I’d bite—

I doubled down, grinding my palm against my clit with rough, **** circles. My thighs trembled as I pictured James leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, watching me with those dark, knowing eyes. *"Go on then,"* his voice rumbled in my head, *"show me how wet you are for your best friend’s dad."* My hips jerked off the mattress as I came with a silent scream, teeth sinking into my lower lip hard enough to sting.