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“It’s taking everything in me not to kiss you again right now. And I really shouldn’t. We shouldn’t do this.”
“Oh.” I feel like a deflated balloon, my heart shrinking and flapping around in my chest.
“No,” he says, slipping a hand under my chin and bringing my gaze to his. “Don’t ever think that I don’t want you. That seeing you and skating with you isn’t the best part of my day. That that wasn’t the best kiss of my fucking life.” He traces his thumb over my cheek. “But this…us…this is a new partnership, one that has a lot of potential and if we give in to this and you decide you don’t want…” He swallows thickly and shakes his head. “And I’m too old for you, even if we didn’t have the complication of being partners.”
I let out a shaky breath. “I get that. I do. Believe me, I’ve been thinking the same thoughts about the partnership, over and over again. But, I don’t care that you’re older than me. In fact…” I bite my lip. “I kinda like it.”
His eyes darken. “You do?”
“I’ve had the biggest crush on you,” I admit in a shy whisper. “Since before we met. For years.”
“Fuck,” he groans, and I can tell he’s about to kiss me again when approaching footsteps echo down the hall and we spring apart.
He mouths the words I’m sorry just before the door opens and the moment ends.
Cate
You would think, after experiencing the best kiss of my life just yesterday—okay, my only kiss, but still, I know it was a good one—from the man I’ve had a crush on for years, I’d be in a good mood.
You’d be wrong.
This afternoon, I’m a grumpy, snarly mess full of tangled emotions, unresolved horniness, confusion, hope, and frustration. My insides feel like a knotted ball of yarn, and every time I try to untangle it to relieve the tension swirling through me, I somehow only manage to make it tighter.
My skates scrape over the ice as I head to where my water bottle is. I’m not really thirsty, but I need the space right now. I can’t think with Alex’s hands all over me, and that’s exactly where they’ve been all freaking day. Our tango routine is very sexy, with passion and anger and loads of physical closeness. It’s definitely the horniest routine I’ve ever skated.
“You good?” Alex asks from several feet away, startling me. I plaster a smile on my face and nod quickly, even though I’m pretty sure it’s a lie. How can I be good when I know what his kiss feels like? When I don’t know if he’ll ever kiss me again?
That thought sends a pang of agony through my chest, and I take another long pull on my water bottle.
I want to say something, but I’m not sure what. It doesn’t matter, because I don’t get the chance to say anything before Deb calls us back to center ice.
It’s a Sunday afternoon and we’ve got the ice to ourselves today while we work on learning all of the intricate choreography of our long program.
“Now that we have the basic mechanics down, I want to spend time working on the artistry,” says Deb. “I think you made good progress in your off-ice session, but we need to remember that we’re trying to tell a story, as well. The teams that rise to the top don’t just focus on lifts and throws—although those are important, of course. But the best teams have the ability to make whoever’s watching feel something, and it’s what sets them apart. You can skate a technically perfect program, but if the artistry is lacking, it’ll fall flat.”
She skates in a slow circle around us and then catches my eyes. “I want you to imagine that you’re a courtesan. You entertain various men as part of your job, even though there’s one man in particular you would prefer to be with.” My heart jumps into my throat at the sheer eroticism she wants us to evoke. I don’t know if I can do it and keep myself intact at the same time.
She has no idea what she’s asking of me right now.
“And you,” she says, turning to Alex, who’s listening with a slight frown on his gorgeous face, “You’re that man. The one she wishes she could be with. And you’re not okay with sharing her. It drives you wild with passionate anger. By the end of the routine, we’re going to move from passionate anger to true, unending love. I want to see it in your faces, in the small movements between elements, in your body language. She is yours, and you’re not going to let her go.” She turns back to me. “His love will set you free.” She lets out a little chuckle, and I wonder if my cheeks are red. They feel hot. “It’s a lot, I know, but we’ll work through it. Let’s start with the lift.”
I swallow thickly and my cheeks burn. This lift involves Alex’s hands very high up on my inner thighs as he spins me over the back of his broad shoulders, then holds me in front of him, my bent legs perched on his thigh until he lifts me above his head.
I nod and meet Alex’s eyes. He’s staring at me, a muscle ticking in his jaw, his arms crossed. He looks almost angry. For several long seconds his gaze holds mine, and I wonder if he’s replayed the kiss as many times as I have.
But, despite the tension radiating through me, I nod and skate towards Alex, offering him my hand. Deb cues up the music and we fall into the routine.
“You’re mine,” Alex growls, making my entire body shudder with need. “I don’t share.” His voice is low in my ear as we move into the lift, and I tell myself that he’s just getting into the character of the routine.
So I decide to follow his lead. “You’re the only one I want,” I whisper as his hand lands on my inner thigh and he spins me effortlessly over his shoulders and to his opposite thigh. His hand grazes my ass as he settles me in position, and I tuck my head against him for the tiniest moment, telling myself it’s to sell the artistry, the passion of the program. Not because the need to be close to him is slowly undoing me from the inside out.
He lifts me easily into the star lift, his hand hot on my hip as we spin, cold air whipping against my skin. We’re spinning so fast. I’m so high.
My heart feels like it’s going to explode in my chest, and I wobble, just the tiniest bit as we move from the star position to a platter position, which involves Alex’s hands on my stomach as I stretch my arms out in front of me, my back arched.
His hands are too low. One of them is right on my mound, and I think I’m going to burst into flames. My clit is pulsing. The rink is a blur around me. I lose focus and my balance wavers.
He feels it and lowers me instantly to the ice, completely skipping the difficult dismount we were supposed to do. The music stops and Deb skates over, but she doesn’t even get the chance to speak.
