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There are moments when I think I’ve overplayed my hand and scared her off, and then I try to convince myself that it’s a good thing. But then I catch her staring at me, and I know she’s thinking over everything I said, and I want her to say yes. Yes to everything I promised. I see the fire in her eyes when we skate together, and I know she’s thinking about me.
Thinking, but nothing more. And again, if I were a better man, I’d be able to convince myself that that’s a good thing.
It’s not.
Because I don’t just want Cate. I need her. I have from the moment I laid eyes on her. And now that I’ve tasted her, now that I know she wants me too, I’m ready to say damn the consequences. But it needs to be her choice. Because as obsessed as I am, I’m not going to strong-arm her into anything she doesn’t want.
I don’t know how I’ll survive if she doesn’t choose me.
I feel like an out of control car, careening all over the place. One minute I’m on one road, and the next, I’m being pulled in a direction I know I shouldn’t go, but it’s inevitable. Like the steering wheel is locked and fuck the consequences anyway.
I check my appearance in the hallway mirror one last time before snatching up my keys and heading to the rink. We have an evening practice tonight, and it’ll just be us and our coaches while we run through our tango program. It’s not coming together as easily as the short program did, both because the elements are more difficult, and because of the nature of the program. Its intensity and passion and themes of forbidden love and longing are fucking distracting.
It’s still light out when I arrive at the rink, but there are only a handful of cars in the parking lot, and the outdoor sign is lit up, buzzing softly. My heart thuds against my ribs when I see Cate’s little Honda parked several spaces away.
I head to the empty locker room and pull on my skates, energy thrumming through me. By the time I hit the ice, I feel amped up. Almost jittery. Like the longer I go without knowing where Cate and I stand, the more tightly wound I get.
I pause just as I’m about to step onto the ice. Cate’s the only skater out there, and she’s clearly skating through some old program, moving with effortless grace from element to element. I watch her land a triple Salchow. I watch her bend her back into a stunning Ina Bauer and then launch into a flawless double Axel. I watch her spin with speed and precision, one leg held aloft over her head, her back arched in a perfect C.
She’s perfection. She’s beautiful and flawless and athletic. Together, we can conquer podiums. I know we can.
And maybe we can be more at the same time. I have to hope, because the intensity of my feelings for her, my obsession with her, is eating me alive.
“Oh,” she says when she comes out of the spin and spots me. Her cheeks are pink with exertion, stray tendrils falling loose from her ponytail and framing her face. I step onto the ice and skate towards her. All I can think about is kissing her.
“Where’s Deb?” I ask. I don’t sound casual or relaxed, and fuck it. I don’t care. I can’t pretend with her.
“She’s sick,” says Cate, skating in a slow circle. “She called me just a few minutes before I got here. She’s got a migraine and can’t make it tonight.”
“And Scott’s at that coaching seminar in Vancouver until tomorrow,” I say. A silence settles between us, and our eyes meet. A wave of heat, prickly with lust, washes over me, and I feel every single one of my muscles tighten.
“I mean, we could still run the routine a few times since we’re both here,” she says with a little shrug. “It’s not often we have the ice to ourselves.”
I swallow thickly and nod. She’s right. Since we’re both here, there’s no reason not to run through the routine a few times.
“What?” she asks, her skate scraping softly against the ice. “You seem off tonight.”
I let out a tight sounding laugh and shove a hand through my hair. “You’re killing me, here.”
Her eyebrows go up, emphasizing how big and pretty her eyes are framed with those thick lashes. Her cute little nose stud winks in the fluorescent lighting. “I’m killing you?” She shakes her head. “I don’t understand.”
I skate closer until we’re only inches apart. “I need to know if you want this as much as I do.” I pick up the end of her ponytail and wrap it around my finger. “I asked you to be sure. I need to know where we stand.”
She slides her hands up my chest, making my balls ache. “What if I say yes? Are you going to take what you want and then push me away again, saying I’m too young and that it’s what’s best for the partnership?”
I feel flayed open by her question, like she’s taken a knife and plunged it into my guts. And I deserve it. I’ve given her mixed signals not because I don’t want her but because I feel guilty about how much I do.
I slide my free hand around her waist and pull her against me. She’s wearing an impossibly soft long-sleeved white sweater and black leggings that show off her toned legs and rounded ass.
“If you say yes, then you’re mine, and I’m never letting you go. No more mixed signals, no more denial of what’s obviously between us.”
She sighs, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. “There’s something you need to know.”
I frown slightly, tightening my grip on her. “What? You can tell me anything.”
“I’ve never had a boyfriend before. I’ve never…” She blinks and looks away, her cheeks pink. Fuck, she’s so sweet. “When you kissed me, that was my first kiss.”
It’s like an explosion goes off inside me. She’s so young and innocent, and I’m done pretending I don’t like it. Like I don’t fucking love it.
