Apparently Chad hadn’t expected Robbie to bite back, because he stammered out a comeback. “Yeah, well… we’ll see who ends up on top this week.”
Robbie laughed in spite of himself. “Definitely me.”
Robbie mightnot be an expert in ice dancing, but even he could tell their tango was sizzling.
Finn started skating around Robbie, clearly the one holding out for the hero, before he invited Robbie to prove himself. Then followed two minutes of Robbie manhandling Finn to do just that.
He spun and dipped Finn down the ice, very aware of Finn’s body against his—the drag of Finn’s thigh down his hip, the press of Robbie’s hand to the small of his back to pull him closer.
Robbie wanted to eat him and he was pretty sure everyone could tell.
By the time Finn jumped onto Robbie’s thighs to show his trust in Robbie’s heroics, Robbie was all but panting. Thank God for dance belts, or Robbie would be coming out in an embarrassing fashion.
Finn leaned back as they spun, showing his trust in Robbie to hold him. Then he slipped from Robbie’s thighs into his embrace for the last tango across the ice, their bodies pressed together and their eyes locked.
The crowd loved it. Finn glowed as they took their bows.
They’d definitely nailed it.
The judges agreed.
Not that they didn’t get criticism—Robbie was too green for that—but the judges seemed just as pleased by their chemistry as the week prior.
Not even the sneering look of disgust from Chad could dampen Robbie’s high.
Back in the locker room, Robbie looked around and, sure that they were alone, planted a dirty, filthy kiss on Finn’s lipstick-red mouth.
“Sweetheart, you’ve got me so turned-on, I wish I could slide into you right now.”
Finn moaned, eyes and mouth open.
“Tomorrow,” Robbie added, a reminder for himself as much as a promise for Finn.
Right now, they had to get cleaned up to return to the stands. The perils of having your names drawn second on the bill, he guessed.
Shower now.
Then tomorrow… tomorrow.
By threeo’clock Tuesday, Robbie had kicked off his shoes and was pacing the length of the hotel room. The staff had followed his instructions—champagne, fruit, and chocolate satout in chilled dishes, ready to be enjoyed at their leisure—but he stopped now and then to ensure everything was still perfect.
Robbie glanced at the clock. Five minutes past three. Was time crawling?
A knock on the door. Robbie almost lunged for it.
Finn stood on the other side, his hands stuffed in his pockets, bringing attention to his hips and the tightness of his jeans. Dark-wash low-riding skinny jeans that were almost hanging off Finn’s hips, flashing a tantalizing glimpse of flesh between the jeans and the too-small white T-shirt he’d paired it with. To finish the look of rent-boy chic was a black leather jacket and a single gold chain around his throat.
Fuuuuuck.
“Jesus, get in here, you little minx.”
Finn huffed a laugh and stepped forward, letting Robbie catch his hand and drag him into the room.
“You get dressed up for me, sweetie? Or are you dressed like this to attract the attention of any john?”
Finn’s lips parted and his eyes went dark. “Uh, just-just one.”
“Yeah?” Robbie couldn’t have stopped the grin if he tried. “You trying to catch my eye, babygirl?”
