I didn’t giveVox a dress code, nor did I tell him where we’re going, but he shows up wearing ankle-length navy-blue pants, a white T-shirt, and a gray puffy coat over top, like he somehow knows that where we’re going is special to me.
“You look nice,” I tell him, trying to make up for showing my ass earlier.
“Yeah, well, the no-bullshit look you threw at me when you ordered me to change told me sweatpants probably wouldn’t cut it for whatever lesson-teaching outing you’re about to drag me on.”
I snort. “That easy to read, huh?”
Vox’s brows furrow. “Sometimes, but being able to read your thoughts isn’t all that helpful when I can never predict what your reaction is going to be when I follow through on them. I mean, I get why you pawned me off on Coach Fuller, but if you wanted some space, why the hell make a scene the way you did? You got what you wanted. I wasn’t paying you any atten—ohhh.” The cheeky bastard smirks. “That’s the problem. I wasn’t paying you any attention. You werejealous, weren’t you?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Fuller put you in an extremely dangerous situation.That’swhy I went off on him,” I say, unlocking my SUV and climbing inside.
As we fasten our seatbelts, Vox asks, “But how did you know I was doing that run unless you were watching me? And why were you watching me when you were supposed to be working with Renner and Angel?”
“Enough with the questions, all right? I don’t have the answers you want.”
“I think you do.” Vox runs his tongue along his bottom lip. The wild purple tips in his hair are in stark contrast to the clean, conservative outfit he’s wearing, and everything about him is heating me up from the insideout.
Ignoring him, I shoot Sam a text, letting him know we’re on our way and thanking him again for allowing me to bring Vox to meet him. I hope being face to face with the reality of what can happen on a slope—even if you don’t let your guard down—will knock some sense into the boarder next to me.
“You want to know what I think?” Vox asks as I merge onto the highway.
“No.”
“I think you didn’t want to benearme because youwantme so much it’s fucking with you, but you didn’t want anyone else near me, either.”
Ding, ding, ding. Someone give the man a prize.
I groan. “Fuck’s sake, Vox. I said you were hot, not that I want you,” I lie, trying like hell to deflect, hating myself for reducing Vox to his looks and this thing between us to nothing more than physical attraction.
“But you do…don’t you?” he asks, the change in his tone shattering what remains of my heart.
He says it like heneedsme to want him. As though he feels like he’s never been wanted by anyone. This kind of vulnerability is rare from him. So rare, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen it. And it feels even worse because I pawned him off on Fuller today.
So, I break. I crumble faster than a house of cards in a fucking wind tunnel.
The lie left such a bad taste in my mouth that I immediately spit it out in favor of the truth.
With a heavy sigh, I admit, “Fuck yes, I want you. More than I’ve wanted anyone in a long time. It’s getting harder by the day not to touch you, text you, or invite you over. But you’re forgetting the part about me also wanting to keep this job, keep you safe, and help get the Patterson team to the top of the podium. So, can we just leave it there?”
Vox stays quiet, his silence speaking volumes, festering under my skin like an infection.
My hand finds its way to his knee, and I squeeze it gently.
“Vox…” I trail off, not knowing what to say. I want to make it better, but I don’t know how. I don’t think telling him exactly how much he turns me on would really be helpful at this point. Nor do I think telling him how many times I’ve come, imagining it washishand on my cock, would be particularly freeing, either. No, I think that knowledge would only tighten the hold he has on me and serve to anger us both, because our circumstances remain the same.
“I get it,” he finally says. “I’m trying to respect your boundaries.” The tone of his voice gives me pause as a wicked grin grows on his lips, and I wait to hear the rest of his sentence. “But I’m not afraid to fight for what I want, especially because I know you want it, too.” Turning in his seat to fully face me, he adds, “Nor would I mind being a dirty little secret…as long as I wasyoursecret.”
Jesus fucking Christ.
Knowing I need a subject change because lettingthathang in the air will suffocate me, I decide to take advantage of this unexpected moment of privacy to learn more about Vox the man and not just Vox the boarder.
Pointing to his hair, I ask, “Why purple?” He shrugs nonchalantly, but immediately starts pulling at a string on his pants, telling me he has a reason, he’s just not sharing it. “I won’t tell,” I prod, now even more curious.
“You ever seen the color of a purple sky reflected across a snowy mountaintop?”
“Once or twice,” I answer honestly.
“It’s my favorite thing Mother Nature has ever shown me. Ironically, the last time I saw the peaks coated in purple was the morning before my dad left.”
