Page 38 of Temptation On Ice

Mostly.

He looks up and pins me with his dark gaze. “What if I have expectations of that happening again? And what if I can’t control myself around you?”

I take a step back, the air around me growing thinner, and my head starting to buzz.

“You, uh, want to do it again?” I hadn't imagined the possibility that he would wake up and want this, or me, in any capacity.

He pulls his hands out of his pockets and takes a step closer, reaching for my hips and pushing me back against the truck. His hands shake a bit, but he’s moving into the moment with a confidence I never expected.

“I don't know what I want exactly.” He looks at my lips and blinks hard, like he’s barely containing himself from ravaging my mouth. He’s killing me with this. “This is the strangest fucking thing I’ve ever experienced in my life, and I never saw it coming. I never saw you coming.”

His hands move tentatively up to my waist, his thumbs brushing along my stomach, and I shiver. The rest of me is frozen for fear of scaring him away if I move. My hands are balled into such tight fists at my sides, my nails are cutting into my palms. I can barely breathe, let alone find words to say.

“I only know I slept better than I have in years when I fell asleep next to you, and then again last night after we got off together.” He dips his head and smiles, his nose brushing against mine as he chuckles an embarrassed sound. “Yeah, it was…different… But I think I proved with my multiple fantasies that thinking of you sexually is something I’ve been doing on my own, and I think I want to continue.”

I swallow the lump of nervous anticipation and pure shock, the sound an audible gulp, and lick my dry lips before I can speak. “You think?” The words are gravelly and a little harsher than I intended. I swallow again, working to lubricate my parched mouth as dread settles over me when I realize what this is. “I’ve been the experimental stage for too many straight men. I’ve held their hands and explained things to them. I’ve let them use me to figure out what things felt like. I was told how much they liked me when we were together. Then I had my heart broken when they ultimately decided they couldn't accept that part of themselves or me as a lover. I won't do it again for someone who thinks they want to try out being gay for a while.” My voice cracks as I finish revealing my past to a man who could easily be a cookie-cutter version of the men I’m talking about.

His face falls, and he takes a step back, letting his hands drop from my waist, sending my heart plunging into my ass with the movement. I hate that my words put that unsure, hurt look on his face. I hate that I made him question himself and gave him the impression that I don't want him even the slightest bit, despite needing to say it.

“Oh,” he says, voice taking on a sharper tone. “I’m not…I don't want to…how do you know I’m just trying this on for a while?” He sounds desperate and looks so despondent, the prison around my whore heart cracks, and I want to grab him and tell him he can have anything he wants from me.

I wish I were stronger. I wish his questions didn't swing a wrecking ball through every wall and smash all of my boundaries. I wish I didn't want to give him everything. I’d pour everything into him, even if it left me empty, just so he’d be happy and know what that felt like. Callum was right. I’m too willing to offer all of myself for crumbs when I deserve a love that’s big and all encompassing, and a partner who puts in as much as I’m willing to. My heart drops at the realization that Sebastian just isn’t there yet. As much as I want to help him figure himself out, I can’t be the collateral damage for the sake of making someone else happy.

I know how to answer him now, even if it breaks my heart. “You may not want to, but it inevitably happens, and I’m always the casualty when they walk away unscathed. I’ve learned my lesson from being burned and broken countless times. I have to be the one to pull back and protect myself because no one else will.”

I rub a hand over my face and dig into my beard, pulling like it’ll give me the answers. I hate this so much. Why is it that when I have a crush on a hot hockey player, and he finally likes me back, he just so happens to be one of my kryptonite guys that always bites me in the ass, and not in a good way?

“Yeah, no. I get it,” Sebastian says hurriedly, stepping away and putting distance between us that feels like he’s ripping my heart out with every inch. “You gotta do what makes sense for you. I don't want to force anything.”

Fuck my life. This is the last thing I want. Rationally, I know I’m doing the right thing, but my heart is screaming at me for blocking the start of whatever this could be, no matter the damage waiting for me. My heart is beating so hard I can feel it in my throat, tasting iron like I’ve run a five-minute mile and ripped the lining of my lungs to shit.

“Thanks for understanding,” I grit out through the squeeze on my esophagus. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck my brain is chanting. “I get it if you don't want to be around me now.”

“Why the fuck do you keep trying to push me away? Is friendship not even on the table, or is that too much of a burden to carry for me, too?” Sebastian’s face is hurt even as his words snap, leaving ruby red striations across my battered heart.

I want to be his friend more than anything. That’s what I didn't want to lose by fucking around and finding out if he’s actually somewhere on the LGBTQ+ spectrum, or if he’ll realize it’s just a phase. I jump forward and reach for him, my hands landing on his shoulders and freezing him in place as he starts to turn. He eyes me suspiciously, the loss of trust shredding me more thoroughly than if he’d said he never wanted to speak to me again.

“No! I want to keep you in my life. I was afraid what happened last night was going to send you running and we’d lose the friendship we’ve built, which is what I value most.” My voice is shaking and unsure, sounding nothing like I usually do. Great, now I’m a bumbling baby gay all over again.

He scoffs. “That’s what you were afraid of? So why are you the one running now?”

I freeze, caught in the question spoken with harsh truth. He’s right. I’m running because I’m scared, and usually, I’m not scared of shit. Find a copperhead on my deck, and I’ll grab the shovel without blinking. Put me into a situation that requires any of my police training, and I have something to fall back on, so there’s no thought of fear, just action and diffusing a situation or moving toward resolution. Give me reactive dogs losing their ever-loving minds, and I’m the first to step in to stop the melee. But Sebastian calling me out for running from him, now? My tail’s tucked between my legs, and I’m shaking in a corner like a bad dog that shit in the house.

“We don't have time to go through this right now,” he says, rubbing his eyes. “It’s fine if you don't want to be here. I’ll tell Enzo we couldn’t make it work, and he’ll learn a lesson about not promising more than he can deliver.”

“No. We’re not letting anything between us affect your kid. I’m here, and I have the dogs. I would never disappoint that little boy,” I say softly. “I’m not gonna go back on my word now. You’re teaching the kid how to follow through, remember? It would be pretty shitty for me to drive all the way here only to turn around and go home without fulfilling the important part.”

I turn away from him, open the door to the backseat of the truck, and unlatch the crate door, letting Ivy hop out while I pick up the puppy. I put leashes on both of them and hand the puppy to Sebastian, who takes her with a look of shock.

“You brought two dogs?”

“Go big or go home. That kid promised a puppy, but he’s getting the mom too, and some preschoolers are learning about service dogs today from Ivy and Juniper.”

I end up speaking for thirty minutes while Enzo happily parades the puppy around his class. I teach the kids how to interact with service dogs out in public, which is to not expect to pet them because they’re working. I explain the differences between a family pet and a service dog, and let them know what a big job these dogs have. I tell them that, as cute as Juniper is now as a little puppy, she’ll grow up to help someone in a very important way. The questions the four-year-olds have are hilarious.

“How can dogs have jobs?”

“These dogs are specially trained to work for people who require extra help, which is very important. They live with their people and every day they make their lives better by helping the people feel normal if they’ve been hurt, or do activities that would usually be harder for them.”