“Holly, I’m yours,” he promised, voice rough with something dangerously close to awe. His forehead pressed to hers, breath still uneven, heart hammering like the last seconds of overtime. Her hands were fisted in his shirt like she needed the same anchor he did, and the look in her eyes nearly undid him all over again.
“I’d walk away from all of it if you asked,” he continued, thumb brushing her cheek with a reverence he had no intention of hiding. “The show. Hockey. The whole fucking circus.”
The confession sat heavy and solid between them, and for once he didn’t try to soften it with humor or by being cocky. Instead he ducked his head, leaning down into her so that he could peer into her gorgeous brown eyes.
“I love you,” he murmured gently. “So much it actually scares me. And I don’t scare easy,” he grinned.
Her smile broke softly, like dawn finally deciding to show up. When she answered him, it landed just as hard as the words she’d already said.
“I love you too, Nate.” Her hands left his shirt and found his, their fingers lacing together on instinct. She gave a small, disbelieving shake of her head. “I don’t deserve you. But I’m going to try.”
Something inside his chest gave way completely, opening like a door he didn’t know he’d been guarding.
“Baby,” he sighed, pulling her closer until there wasn't a single inch of space left between them. “You don’t have toearnme. You alreadyhaveme. All of me.”
He pressed a kiss to her forehead, gently grounding and nothing at all like the frantic urgency that brought them here in the first place. For a moment he let himself stay there, holding her in the quiet bubble they’d carved out of chaos, pretending the rest of the world wasn't waiting just outside the door.
Then he shifted his stance, and instantly regretted it as cold air hit the front of his thighs.
He went very still.
Holly went very still.
They both looked down at the same time.
His pants and underwear were still bunched around his lower hips, having only been shoved down just far enough to grant him the access he’d needed. But now that the passion had subsided for the time being, there was no mistaking the situation. The front of his pants and boxers were completely soaked.
Stunned silence stretched between them for a second before Holly made a tiny, strangled noise that sounded like her soul trying to exit her body.
“Oh my god,” she whispered, horror blooming across her face in real time. “Oh mygod.Nate, I messed your costume pants.”
He stared down at himself with an intensity usually reserved for game tape. Then lifted his gaze back to her, blinked, and barked out a laugh before she could spiral herself into orbit. Not a polite chuckle, either. A full, helpless chuckle that extended into a whole series of them.
“Holly,” he managed between breaths, tugging her back toward him when she tried to retreat. “I’ve bled through three jerseys in one game. I promise you, this isnotmy worst wardrobe emergency.”
She groaned into his shoulder. “You can’t compare this to hockey.”
“Can and will,” he grinned shamelessly. “Don’t worry, my other dance partner left me a spare pair of black pants around here somewhere.”
She swatted his chest.Hard.
“Ow,”he laughed before a tentative knock on the door they’d just defiled made them both freeze.
“Nate? Holly? You’ve…uh… got five minutes until results.”
Five minutes.
He and Holly looked at each other.
Then they both started laughing again, the absurdity of the situation crashing in all at once. They’d just detonated their emotional lives against a dressing room door, and now they were totally going to have to strut out under studio lights in front of a live audience like nothing happened.
“Okay,” Holly said, getting a grip on herself first as she adjusted her tiny shorts back into position with terrifying speed. “Damage control. New pants. Towels. Possibly divine intervention.”
Nate toed off his shoes and shuffled hilariously over to his bag, legs still restricted by those soaked pants. Holly had found his gym towel, and was sorting out her own business. He paused to watch her.
“Have I ever told you how hot it is when you take charge?” he smirked.
“Four minutes!” She laughed, pretending she was about to throw the towel at him.
