I pout. “Really?”
He rolls his wrist the same way he did on the lift, then moves his jaw back and forth like he’s trying to relieve pressure in his ears.
“They get mad when I’m late,” he says.
So he’ll play the delicate card when it’s convenient? Pain in my ass.
“Fine.” But I pull him behind a fluttering tent flap. He laughs, but doesn’t resist. I want to kiss him. Just once, to remind myself what it’s like and?—
Our lips are millimetres away when I pause.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
“This is your first kiss,” I say.
Austin steps toward me, closing the final spaces between us, until all that separates us are the layers of clothes and outerwear we were silly enough to think we’d need today.
“I’m not a virgin,” he says. His lips brush over mine as he speaks, but he doesn’t stay still long enough to seal the deal.
My body is on alert, rising to the occasion, even if there’s nothing we can do here.
“Oh, I’m very aware of that. Even more than you might be, given only one of us remembers the things we did together, but...” I brush a thumb against his mouth, feeling the soft but dry skin there. A stray fleck comes off under my touch, and he traces the path I took with the tip of his tongue. The small gesture makes me groan. “But it’s the first kiss with me you’re going to remember.”
I expect him to tell me not to be so sentimental. Or to reassure me it doesn’t matter. Instead, before I can even think of anything else to say, his mouth crashes down on mine. It’s like outside the karaoke bar all over again. He sucks the breath from my lungs, and I have to grip his jacket to keep from falling backwards into the tent. He’s rough and confident, sending me a silent reminder he really isn’t breakable. I nearly fall anyway, because I try to rise up on my toes, to kiss him more...better...all of him, but ski boots really aren’t made for this kind of thing, and only his hand on the small of my back keeps me from tumbling and taking him with me.
Finally, he pulls back, letting us both gasp. I settle more firmly on my feet. My cock is already half awake, pushing against my clothes.
“Physio,” Austin says firmly, stepping away. “Team building later.”
I whine. That’s so not fair. But I follow after him, keeping my head down, in case anyone saw us.
Physio is torture. And not only because the therapist kicks my ass. Sure, he has me twisting and bending in positions that make everything in my body strain. There’s weird tension in my left knee that wasn’t there yesterday. Tightness that runs up my thighs and pulls at my ankle. Working it out is not fun, but nothing I haven’t dealt with before.
What I haven’t dealt with before is Austin and the team of therapists that descend on him when we walk into the treatment room. Usually treatment is done individually and privately, but given the volume of people to work on and the limited space of the hotel, the Canadian staff have set up a large common area with dividers between stations. I can’t see Austin, but I can hear as his team ask a barrage of questions about his condition, his body, what hurts, and where he feels weaknesses. He gives direct answers like this is a ritual he has undergone many,manytimes in the months since he finally left the hospital.
Then he moans.
Okay, it’s not immediately after he answers all those questions. I’m lying on a table with one of my knees bent against my chest, and he lets out a long, low groan. It’s a deep “ohhhh” from the direction of his team, and my whole body goes tense.
“What was that?” Felix, the therapist I’m working with, asks. “Pain?”
If he only knew.
“No, it’s okay,” I say, focusing on breathing. But then Austin does it again as Felix releases me. I stare at the ceiling, listening to soft voices and the sound of Austin’s evolving discomfort and relief. It’s obscene, even if it’s perfectly innocent.
“Other side?” Felix prompts me. I make up a mumbled excuse as I spin around so my head is at the other end of the table, which means when we stretch out this side, I’m still facing away. Even with the divider, there’s no way I can face that direction with what’s coming from beyond it. If I did, I’m goingto embarrass myself very quickly. Hard-ons happen from time to time in sessions like this. You can’t have someone this close to you, touching you and generating that sweet pleasure-pain of muscles releasing without sometimes it going other places in your head. But everyone’s discreet about it, and honestly, as soon as the therapist is done, the feeling goes away, so things have never gotten too awkward for me.
But having Austin in the same room, making sounds like that...I’m only a man after all, and I know how to get him to make those noises when it’s only the two of us. Like the sound he makes as I push his legs back and?—
“Jesus Christ.” I pop up to sitting like I’ve been electrocuted. Felix takes a surprised step back.
“You okay?” Austin asks beyond the divider.
I grip the edge of the table. “Yeah. I’ll be right back.” Without further explanation, I hop off the table and rush out of the room.
At this rate, I’m not going to make it to the podium. I may not make it to the end of today.
I’m waiting for Austin when he comes out of the therapy room. It’s located on the second floor of the hotel, and that’s still too far from my bed.
