“Oops.” His smile matches the playful gleam in his eyes. “Sorry.”
Only he doesn’t sound all that sorry. He sounds whatever the opposite of sorry is. And maybe a little turned on. Although that last one could be my imagination. Or wishful thinking.
“It’s okay,” I croak. My voice always goes all Kermit the Frog when I get nervous. And right now I’m nervous as fuck. And excited. How could I not be when Kolby’s lying on top of me, all his good parts pressed into mine? I’m just damned glad I’m wearing a cup, or he’d know exactly how excited I’m getting. “Happens all the time.”
“It does?” He shifts his weight so one leg is wedged between mine. “Maybe I should take up hockey.”
“I—I mean the falling part. Not—the other stuff.”
“Other stuff?” His smile widens and he grinds against me. The dimple is back, and up this close it’s positively lethal, especially when it’s combined with the delicious friction he’s creating between my legs. “Like this?”
Fuck, yeah. Just like that.
It strikes me how much this mirrors that night with Chase. We were horsing around after practice when it happened, although we were in the locker room, not on the ice. One minute we were flicking towels at each other, the next our lips were locked like they were glued together.
The similarities should scare me. I swore I wouldn’t do this again. That I’d keep my sex life and skating separate so there wouldn’t be a repeat of what went down with Chase.
But Kolby’s not a teammate. And when it comes to the big stuff—the important stuff—he’s worlds apart from Chase. He’s out and proud and completely comfortable with who he is, and from the way he’s staring at my mouth like he’s going to devour it any second, there’s no mistaking what he wants.
Me.
So when my hands come up to press against his chest, it’s without any actual force. Like him, I don’t make any real move to get up. Probably because I’m right where I want to be.
Although, admittedly, this would be more comfortable in a bed. Or even on one of the couches in the locker room. Anything with a cushion.
Nope. Not going there. I have to keep things light. Casual. This is about skating, not sex. I should have that tattooed on my chest backwards so I can read it in the mirror. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you fell on purpose. But I’ve seen you skate, and I’m not sure you’re capable of doing anything on purpose.”
He ignores my crack about his skating and rubs that beautiful body against mine again. “You’re wearing way too much padding.”
“That padding saved you from falling flat on your face.”
“Nah.” One hand comes up to cup my cheek. I can feel his heat even through his thick wool mitten. It’s scratchy against my skin, but I don’t pull away. “I’m pretty sure that was you.”
I try to look away from him, but I can’t. His hand on my face and his hypnotic eyes, more blue today than gray or green, hold me in place.
There’s desire in them, sure. But also hesitation and confusion. He’s holding back, not sure if I’m in this with him. If it’s okay to cross the line from fooling around to—well, fooling around.
It’s not okay, my brain screams. But my dick—and something else in the area of my rib cage—have other ideas, and they’re screaming louder. It’s obvious Kolby wants this as much as I do. He’s not going to freak out like Chase. And we’re basically alone here. The coaches are long gone. The team is at the Biscuit, probably well into their second or third pitcher of beer by now. The rink is deserted this time of night except for the Zamboni guy, and he’s in the visitor’s locker room, where he’ll stay until I come and tell him we’re done.
I reach up and palm the back of Kolby’s head, inching his smart, sexy mouth closer to mine. “Isn’t that what a teacher is supposed to do? Catch you when you fall?”
The hand on my cheek moves to my hair. “Or stop me from falling in the first place. Although in this case, I don’t think that was possible.”
“Are we still talking about skating?” Our breaths mingle, and I can feel his heart beating at the same breakneck pace as mine.
“I don’t think so.”
I pull his head down to kiss him, but he turns so I only get his cheek. Yeah, it’s nice and all. Cool and soft under my lips, with just a hint of early evening stubble to make things interesting. But that wasn’t exactly my target, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed.
Shit. Have I read him wrong? Is this Chase all over again?
I release his head, expecting him to roll off me, but he doesn’t move.
“Before we go any further, I have to know. Is this an experimentation thing for you? Like maybe you think you like guys and you’re not sure and this is your way of figuring it out?”
So that’s what he’s worried about. Relief floods my body. My radar isn’t off this time. He’s into me. He just wants to make sure I’m not fucking with the head above his shoulders before he lets me fuck with the one between his legs.
“I know I like guys,” I assure him. “And girls. I’m bi.”
