Page 77 of Home Ice

“And in college?”

He chuckles. “In college, there was never a shortage of women interested, so it was easy enough to distract myself and pretend that you getting my dick hard had been a fluke.” Hawke shrugs, and damn, I love his big shoulders. “Women are hot. Tits are hot. It really wasn’t a hardship.”

I can’t relate. “But it wasn’t a fluke.”

For the first time all day, his expression sobers, and he takes his time running his gaze from the top of my head, down my body, and along my legs. “Definitely not a fluke.”

“Okay,” I say, like this is totally a normal conversation I’d have with my best friend and not one that’s turning me inside out. Not one that’s making my heart drum with anticipation. “Then we do it again.”

Hawke’s face goes blank. “What?”

“Do you need me to draw it out for you?”

“You might need to. Because no way are you talking about having sex again.” His voice pitches higher, and his neck starts to join his ears in imitating a lobster.

“Why not?”

“Well, because …”

I wait him out, and it takes him longer than me to realize no more words are coming.

So he finishes with, “You know.”

“All I know is that I had fun with you. Twice, as you pointed out. You’re sexy as hell—seriously, getting your nose pierced was overkill, by the way, because you didn’t need to be any hotter—and we like being around each other. So the way I see it is that we can pretend to ignore it until we’re both horned up and it inevitably happens again, or we keep on hanging out, and if we want to hook up, we just do it.”

It’s like my words have taken away all of his. “Whenever we want?”

“Well, it’s not like we’re going to start banging in front of other people, but …” I shrug, playing it off like I don’t think about this fact way too often. “You have to go back to St. Louis soon enough. I don’t see the point in not enjoying ourselves, in whatever way we want, while you’re here.”

“That’s … not a horrible point.”

“It’s a fantastic point.”

Finally, life comes back into his expression. “So …” He chokes back a laugh. “We keep hanging out. If we get horny, we fuck. Just like that?”

“Just like that.” At this point, I need whatever I can to get out of my head, and being with Hawke feels good. Hanging out, coaching, talking about random shit, and, yes, the fucking. Without focusing on that negative, overwhelmed mindset, after everything I’ve been through, I think I deserve some time to feel good. To not think and just do.

We only have whatever time he’s here for to do it, so why not indulge in this break from my life?

The added bonus is that if I’m focused on Hawke, I can’t be obsessively worrying about Dad.

“Quick question,” he says, pulling me from my thoughts. “Does this mean if I want to tell you that your ass has been begging me to sink my teeth into it all day that I should say it?”

“Definitely. Like, when I tell you all I’ve been able to think about is how you said you want to fuck me and that maybe I jerked off to that after you left.”

“Ah. Interesting.” His voice sounds strangled. “So I guess it’s an appropriate time to tell you that I still haven’t looked at your pictures on my phone because I’m terrified of how much they’ll turn me on?”

“If you’re scared of a couple of photos, how will you handle the real thing?” And before he can respond, I slap him on the ass and skate away. Kasen’s just arrived, and the last thing Hawke needs right now is the son he’s trying to win over seeing him flirt with me.

And I feel pretty fucking good leaving things there.

“Coach,” Kasen says, stepping onto the ice.

“Hey, how’s your day been?”

“Good. Caught up with a couple of guys from the team. Played soccer and then went for a swim.”

“That sounds awesome.”