Page 41 of Temptation On Ice

He chokes, his ears turning bright red as he looks at me with something like humor and shyness before he manages to clear his throat and turn to the server. “Sweet tea is fine, please.”

“You betcha,” she says. “Take a peek at the menus and I’ll be right back with your drinks.” She turns and heads into the restaurant. Tucker tries to take his hands back as he turns to grab the menu in front of him.

“Let me order for you,” I insist. “They have an incredible menu, and I think I know what you’d enjoy the most.”

He freezes in his attempt to free his hands and looks back at me. “Sebastian.” The warning in his tone is sexy as hell now that I know what he sounds like when he comes, and I’m not nearly as intimidated by it as I think he wants me to be. “I’m perfectly capable of ordering for myself. Don't treat me like your kid, or some puck bunny you’d take out.”

“Tucker,” I growl back, and he visibly shivers at the sound. “I’m not treating you like anyone other than the man I want to take to lunch and watch as you eat food that’ll turn your face orgasmic.”

My choice of words hit their mark. Tucker bites his lip, his knee rubbing against mine as he shifts. “Don’t tease me, City Boy,” he says, voice low and pleading, yet still carrying a rumble of command.

“You only wish I were teasing you.” I smile and slide my knee along his thigh, the movement calculated and devious. I’m playing dirty, using the temptation he needs to make him give in, so we can both move past any perceived issues and give this a try.

“I do, because then I wouldn’t feel as bad saying no, knowing you’re just messing around. Instead, you’re fucking with my head, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to think at all,” he says, finally pulling his hands away from mine.

“I’m not fucking with you. I’m showing you I’m for real. I’m not going to keep you a secret and decide later that this isn’t for me. Whatever happens between us is happening for a reason, and I won't regret it, no matter what,” I tell him with urgency. The quicker I convince him, the faster we can enjoy things together.

“You say that because you want to try something new, but I’ve seen this before. I know how it ends, and it’s not in my favor. I don't want to be your novelty,” he insists, sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms.

I lean toward him, resting my elbows on my knees and gripping his thighs with my hands. “So tell me about those other guys and what happened. Let me learn from their mistakes so I don't repeat them. I don't want to make you feel like they did. You deserve so much better than that.”

He raises one hand to his face and rubs his eyes, like I’m exhausting him with my continued arguments. Good. I want to wear him down. I’m stubborn as hell, and now that I’ve set my sights on what I want, I’m determined to get it. He blows out a breath and cups his cheek as he looks at me with helpless blue eyes, and I know I’ve gotten through to him, at least a little bit.

Our server returns with our drinks. “What can I get you, guys?”

I tilt my head at Tucker, asking silently if he’ll let me order for him. He shuts his eyes and nods briefly. I smile victoriously and turn to the woman, looking at us expectantly.

“We’ll start with the Southern spread and crab cakes, please. I’ll have the chef’s grilled chicken chopped salad with a side of fries, and the Southern gentleman here will have the fried chicken. Thanks.”

She nods and walks off to put our orders in.

“Did I do okay?” I ask Tucker.

Reluctantly, he nods and drops his arms. “Not knowing what else is on the menu, that sounds fine enough.”

“It was the chicken or the Carolina trout, but I thought something a little heavier would work. That, and I want a bite since I ordered a meal that fits my nutrition plan instead of splurging like I wanted to.” I smile at him when he raises an eyebrow at me.

“Oh, you get me the fatty meal while you get the salad so you can keep your pretty figure, but you still want a bite?” he asks with a growl.

“You think I’m pretty?” I ask, leaning toward him with a grin.

“You’re impossible,” he groans, but he’s smiling and looking more relaxed than he was earlier, which means he’s in a better headspace to talk.

“Ok, back to my earlier question. What happened with the other guys?” I ask, dropping the playful tone.

“This is gonna take some backstory.” He blinks and blows out a breath as he runs a hand over his beard with a rasp before he begins. “I’ve known I was gay since I was twelve. Do you know how hard it is to just be yourself and like who you want when you’re growing up gay in the Bible Belt? I came out to my immediate family when I was fourteen. I hadn’t planned to come out publicly, but my cousins learned about it and told the whole school.”

“Wow, your own family did you dirty?” I ask with trepidation, thinking about my large extended family in New York and the unspoken rule of family coming first, no matter what. As annoying as it is to have my mom want to be so involved in my life, I know it comes from a place of love. I have no fear of anyone in my family selling me out from a place of mean-spiritedness or wanting to profit off of me. They’d just ask me to my face for whatever they needed if that were the case.

“They’re pretty shitty humans and liked to humiliate and harass me even before they knew I was gay, so this was pretty on brand for them.” He shrugs and doesn't seem too bothered by the whole thing, so I don't comment further. “Well, that started the expected treatment, and people in my classes tried to bully me.”

I place a hand on his thigh and hope it’s as reassuring as his touch has been for me. “People are fucked up. I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

He eyes me seriously. “It’s something for you to consider. If you want to be with me and you think this is something you're willing to change your life for, it won't all be jacking off over FaceTime and instant acceptance from strangers like our nice server. The world is cruel, and even now, there’s so much hate for those of us who love differently than what most of society says is right. You need to be prepared for the fallout and expect it no matter what.”

“I’m perfectly capable of dealing with the opinions of others, Tucker. I live in the public eye, remember? I have plenty of people in my business daily, opining about my playing style, and if I sucked during a game, telling me how I could have done better with passes I missed, or shots I could have taken. They let me know my cardio is shit and I should be upping my conditioning, and even weighing in on if the suit I wore for walk-ins made me look fat. I’m used to it. It hardly gets to me now. You think someone getting on me for liking your dick is going to get under my skin?” I laugh because that’s the least of my fucking worries. “I would be so lucky if that was all they cared about. It hurts more when they say I play worse than their grandma, who’s never been on skates before.”

He scoffs. “You’re flippant now, but you don't know what it’s like to be the constant target of abuse just because you're different. The verbal slurs and comments about my preferences were bad enough, but it got worse when I was targeted by groups. I’ve always been a big motherfucker, and they didn’t feel like they could take me one-on-one, but you get five of them together to corner me in a hallway or outside of the Dairy Queen, and they were brave enough. The worst thing wasn't the bullying. It was that some of those same guys were the ones who’d secretly wanted to fool around and see what it was all about, and loved getting their dick sucked or going balls deep in my ass in the back of my truck just weeks before, and then pretended to not know me and give me hell for who I am.”