Page 4 of Iced Out Mate

I took a step forward. Wet leaves and dirt pressed under my sneakers. Something about the space between us felt abnormal. I wanted to shake the man’s hand.

“Hello,” I said, trying not to be awkward. I was typically fine talking to handsome men considering I was often around them at work, helping them rehab and care for their—typically very fit, very six-pack prominent—bodies, but something about this one temporarily stole my breath away.

A moment of rain-soaked silence lapsed before I remembered what words were. “I, um, my name is Miles.”

“Miles, I’m Dylan. Everyone calls me Dyl, though.”

Dylan… why did that name sound so familiar? And, come to think of it, why did Dylan look so familiar?

“I didn’t realize there’d be other shifters running through here,” I said, trying to put together the pieces in my current “fuck, this guy’s hot” state of mind. He wore a slightly oversized T-shirt but the rain made it cling to his muscular form. It was late September in Vermont which meant it was still in the low seventies, but judging by the way Dylan’s nipples poked through his shirt, I would have thought it was much colder out here.

I pried my eyes back up to his before he could catch me checking him out.

The subtle and slanted grin he gave me made me wonder if I’d been successful.

“I’m one of the few in our Burlington pack that likes running in the rain.”

“Oh, so you’re in Emmy’s pack—oh shit.”

“What? Do I have something on my face? Is there a bee?” He started fearfully swatting at the air as if he wasn’t a magical being with the ability to heal any kind of bee sting or bug bite in mere seconds. “Fuck, I hate bees. Where is it?” He started toward me, swatting, flecks of rain flying off him like tiny diamonds glittering in whatever rays of sunlight broke through the curtain of clouds.

I chuckled and then gasped as Dyl tripped over a rock and came flying in my direction.

Instinct had me open my arms and wrap him up in them. He’d fallen with his back to me so that he was pressing against my body, my arms tight around his stomach and waist. His ass fit perfectly against my crotch. The realization of how close certain body parts were to others made me tense. We both stayed still for a moment before he tilted his head and looked up at me. Being this close to him made me realize this man wasn’t just conventionally attractive.

He was a god damn perfect specimen. Tiny freckles dotted his cheeks—one just above his eyebrow, and a smattering on and around his ear. There was some stubble on his chin and cheeks that outlined his full, pink, slightly upturned lips which sat underneath a large, rounded nose—which I tended to love in a man, since it always made me wonder if things were proportional.

“There was no bee,” I said, catching myself smiling down at him. “I was just realizing that you’re on the hockey team.”

“I am,” he said with a dash of suspicion in his tone. He didn’t move away though.

Good, because I found that I didn’t want him to.

“Well then, it’s nice to meet you. I’m the Bobcats’ new athletic trainer.”

His eyes opened wide before he straightened. I loosened my grip around him and he moved to stand in front of me.

I immediately wanted him back in my arms.

“Oh shit, really?” he asked.

“Yeah, is that a problem?”

“No, no. I just had no idea we’d be getting a hot trainer.”

Huh. He thinks I’m hot.

I tried not to let the thought catch me off guard. I always had trouble with my self-esteem, so it was nice to hear that coming from someone who I also thought was incredibly hot.

Someone who was incredibly hot and on the same team I worked for… talk about a conflict of interest.

He put a hand to the back of his neck. His bicep bulged, his sleeveless shirt showing off a dark patch of armpit hair. My instinct was to lean forward and bury my face in it before dragging my lips up his arm, licking him and sucking one of his fingers into my mouth…

Fucking hell, this guy was quickly turning me feral. I had to cut it off. What if this got back to the coach? The general manager? I could end up getting fired before my official first day. I nervously played with the bracelet around my wrist. Twirling it as if the sensation of wet gold against my skin would somehow distract me from the sensation of my briefs getting tighter.

“Well, you are,” I said, slightly colder than I intended. I had to pry myself out of this situation one way or another.

“Are what?”