Page 91 of Ice Dance

I shouldn’t have brought flowers.

I was here now. No going back.

I knocked, waited a few moments, and the door opened.

Navarro blinked, saw me, saw the bouquet, briefly confused, and frowned. “What⁠—”

He didn’t like them. “May I⁠—”

“Sure, I . . .” He stepped back, letting me in, staring at the flowers.

I’d been going to give him the flowers with a big speech about how only a few skaters could perform a quadruple axel, but now I didn’t want to bring skating into this moment. But if I didn’t, what were the flowers for?

I put them down on the table and really needed to say something soon about them being for him.

“Are those for Dylan?” he asked. “She’ll like them.”

“Ah, no.” I swallowed. “They’re for you.”

“For me?” He smiled, unsure, then approached the table, and the flowers.

“For the quad axel today,” I said, my heart so loud he surely heard it.

He touched one of the big blooms. “You bought me flowers?”

“You don’t like them.”

“What? No, I love them. I . . . I’m kinda . . . surprised, that’s all.”

This had been a terrible idea. I didn’t even know why I’d thought it would be a good idea to buy a man flowers. “It doesn’t mean I think you’re feminine.”

He snorted, then burst out laughing when he saw whatever my face was doing. I cringed, wanting to start over, but without the ridiculous flowers.

He lunged, coming up onto his toes and slamming a kiss on my mouth. I stumbled, correcting his weight against me, then dropped my hand, holding his ass. The kiss deepened, turning heated. I combed my fingers up the back of his neck, into his hair.

I hadn’t come for this, but it always seemed to be where we ended up, and I certainly wasn’t going to stop it.

He broke the kiss and mouthed my neck. “Ren, god . . . that spin today felt amazing.”

He said the words against my skin, making my breath catch. He didn’t often use my first name, the same as I didn’t use his. Certainly not in public. But it felt different now, as though that moment on the ice before the spin, when he’d surrendered into me, had flipped a switch between us. I gripped his hips, felt him shift slightly then tilt his head back to look up.

“Will you stay?” he asked.

I hadn’t before, because I hadn’t been sure if he’d wanted me too. It had seemed like a step into something more, at a time when neither of us could afford the distraction. But today had been different. “Yes.”

His smile bloomed. He kissed my mouth again, arms going over my shoulders to hook me down. I wrapped my arms around his back, hauling him close, curving him into me.

He rose onto his toes, trying to climb higher. I helped by slotting my hands under his ass and scooping him up. He hopped into me, legs fixing around my waist, and I had him to do with as I pleased. I set him down on the table, rattling something, and knocking the flowers aside. My heart raced for a different reason now, my body coming alive. He tore at my shirt buttons, getting it off fast, then his warm, wet mouth skimmed my bruised skin.

I wrapped my fingers around his T-shirt hem, and pulled it up, over his head, messing up his hair. Then we were skin on skin, something we were not allowed to be in public, which perhaps was part of the reason why it felt so good after touching him for so long through fabric. I skimmed my fingers down his chest, around the mottled bruises and tattoos. He shuddered, sighing.

I didn’t know how to say the words about how much he meant to me, but I could make my body show him.

And we had all night.

I gentled the pace, kissing him slower, stroking lazily down his waist to his hips. I was hungry for him, but in a way I could wait to enjoy. The controlled anticipation heightened the need and the pleasure. His body strummed under my touch. I nipped at his shoulder, heard his breath hitch, felt his hips jerk, and switched one hand to the firm ridge in his trousers.

His fingers dug into my back, hips rolling, pushing into my grip. It always thrilled me, to touch him like this, to know he ached for it as much as I did. It was never enough. The need had never dulled, not even after months. If anything, it had become more urgent, more demanding. There was more we could do together, I knew that, but I’d been reluctant to go that far. The further we fell together, the harder it would be to climb out of all this at the end.