He laughed, humourless. “Théo, I’ve been watching you skate for weeks. Sitting in the back row like a fucking stalker, trying to convince myself I was just there to support a friend. I’ve watched hours of your competition footage. I’ve gone down rabbit holes about your career, your rivals, your—” He stopped, running a hand through his hair. “I’m not trying to fix you.”
“Then what?”
He stepped closer. Not touching me but close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off his body.
“Let’s just say my reasons aren’t as selfless and noble as you think.” His voice dropped. “Yeah, you’re beautiful. Stupidly, unfairly beautiful. The kind of beautiful that makes people do dumb shit and I’m clearly not immune.”
I flinched. I’d heard this before.Beautiful. A pretty thing to be admired, collected, displayed.
“But that’s not why I can’t stop thinking about you,” he continued and something in his voice made me look up. His eyes were serious, intent. “It’s the way you skate like you’re trying to punish yourself and prove something at the same time. It’s the way you show up at seven in the morning and stay until your feet bleed. It’s the way you carry yourself like the world can fuck right off if they don’t agree with you.”
I swallowed hard.
“It’s your determination. Your discipline. The way you throw yourself at something impossible and refuse to quit.” He shook his head. “I play professional hockey. I know what hard work looks like. And you make the rest of us look lazy.”
“That’s not—” My voice cracked. “That’s not something to admire. That’s just me being fucked up.”
“Maybe.” He reached out slowly, giving me time to pull away, and tucked a damp lock of hair behind my ear. “But I’m not here because I want to save you. I’m here because I see you. And I’m not going anywhere just because you’re scared of being seen.”
I stared at him. My heart was pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat.
“You’re an idiot,” I whispered.
“Probably.” The corner of his mouth lifted. “But I’m an idiot who knows what he wants.”
He inched forward, pausing, searching my face.
I didn’t move.
He kissed me again. Slowly this time, nothing like the angry clash from before. This was savouring. Tasting. His lips moved against mine like he had all the time in the world, like I was something worth taking his time with. One hand came up to cup my jaw, his thumb stroking gently across my cheekbone.
I just fucking melted into him.
My hands found his shoulders, his neck, the short hair at the back of his head. I pulled him closer and he came willingly, stepping between my parted legs until I could feel the outline of his erection press against me.
Hard. Undeniable. Wantingme.
I hadn’t wanted someone this badly in so long. Maybe ever. Never a man like Derek, who was handsome and kind and good. The kind of good that wasn’t performed or calculated. The kind of good I didn’t know how to trust.
His hands slid under my shirt again, palms warm against my sides, and I felt my whole body shudder. He started to lift the fabric and I grabbed his wrists.
“Wait.”
He stopped immediately, pulling back to look at me. Patient. Always so fucking patient.
“I need to tell you something first.” My voice sounded strange to my own ears. Small. “Before you see.”
His brow furrowed slightly but he didn’t push. He just waited.
I took a breath. Then another. My fingers were still wrapped around his wrists, holding his hands hostage at my waist.
“I have scars,” I said. The words felt like glass in my throat. “On my arms. My thighs. They’re…” I couldn’t look at him. I stared at the collar of his shirt instead, at the steady pulse in his neck. “I used to cut myself. When the pressure was too much. When everything got too loud and I needed… release.”
The silence stretched between us. I could feel my heart hammering against my ribs, waiting for him to pull away. To make an excuse. To look at me with pity or disgust or that particular expression people got when they realized I was more broken than they’d bargained for.
“They’re ugly,” I whispered. “And once you see them—”
“Théo.” Soft. Firm. He freed one hand and tilted my chin up. “Look at me.”
