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The crowd cheers him on and even tries to copy his wild moves. Gerard soaks up the attention like a sponge, his grin widening with each chant of his name. He thrives on being the center of attention, and it explains why he loves hockey, why he has no problems with the Ice Queen writing nonstop about him, and even why he can always be this carefree and happy.

Our eyes meet from across the room in a cliché rom-com way. His smile morphs into something more intimate, and he beckons me to him with a crook of his long finger.

My heart skips a beat.He wants me to join him? Out there, in front of everyone?

I don’t mind dancing foolishly. But there’s no way I won’t go unnoticed dancing next to Gerard.

OrwithGerard.

I want to run away, but a large hand presses on the small of my back and pushes me none-too-gently toward Gerard. I stumble forward and nearly face-plant into the sticky floor. I whirl around to see who dared to push me.

Jackson grins at me.Et tu, Jackson?

He gives me an exaggerated wink before disappearing back into the crowd.

I don’t have time to plot revenge because Gerard grabs my hands and pulls me close. “Dance with me, Elliot!”

“I’m not a good dancer,” I protest weakly, even as I let him pull me into the middle of the makeshift dance floor.

“Nonsense!” Gerard spins me under his arm as if I weigh nothing. “You just have to feel the music and let your body move.”

I try to mimic Gerard’s untroubled movements, but I’m stiff and awkward in comparison. My arms flail aboutlike I’m being electrocuted, and my feet keep getting tangled together. I’m a hot mess, but Gerard doesn’t mind.

If anything, my ineptitude amuses him. “Relax, Elliot. Don’t think, just feel.”

Easy for him to say. His body is made for dancing. Mine is made for curling up with a good book.

But as the song goes on, I finally loosen up. Gerard’s enthusiasm is infectious, and soon, I’m shimmying and shaking right along with him. We’re ridiculous—a hulking jock and a scrawny nerd trying to out-dance each other—but I don’t care. For once, I’m not overthinking things. I’m enjoying the moment and letting the music take control.

Gerard spins me again, and I’m ready for it this time. I twirl under his arm and come back to face him, our chests pressed together. His hands settle on my hips, large and warm through the thin material of my shirt. My hands grip his broad shoulders, and the muscles flex beneath my palms.

We’re close. Closer than we’ve ever been before when not asleep. I can count every one of his long eyelashes. Can see the faint freckles dusting his nose and cheeks. Can feel the heat of his body seeping into mine.

The air between us crackles with electricity, with all the things we’ve left unsaid. All the lingering glances and casual touches, all the conversations and jokes. It’s all led to this moment, this dance.

As the final chorus kicks in, Gerard twirls me out and then pulls me back in, dipping me low enough for my antennae to brush the floor. I cling to him, my heart hammering in my chest as I stare into his stunning blue eyes.

Time slows to a crawl, and the rest of the world fades away until it’s only us. Gerard’s gaze drops to my lips, and I watch as his tongue darts out to wet his own. Anticipation coils tight in my belly.

“Elliot,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough with want. “I…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence. He doesn’t need to. Because the next thing I know, he leans down and presses his lips to mine.

Fireworks explode behind my eyes as I melt into the kiss. Gerard’s lips are soft and plush and taste faintly of apples. He pulls me impossibly closer, and I wind my arms around his neck, deepening the kiss and hardly daring to believe that this isfinallyhappening.

ICE QUEEN BLOG POST #7

Kisses, Milky Twilights, and Silver Moons Sparkling, Oh My!

Hey there, puck bunnies! Ice Queen here, your go-to gal for the coolest takes on all things Barracudas.

I’m coming to you live from inside the lion’s den…or should I say the Barracudas’ cove? That’s right, the Ice Queen is living it up with the hockey players at their annual Halloween bash. It’s nearly midnight, and so much has happened that I had to slip away to make this post for all my loyal subjects.

First off, the sexual tension in this house is so thick you could cut it with a skate blade. And if I’m being totally honest, the homoeroticism has been off the charts from the moment I walked in the door.

In the dining room, I spotted Drew Larney sucking suggestively on Jackson Monroe’s finger. Yes, you read that right—Jackson Monroe, the QB. Drew was going to town deep throating that digit in a way that left little to the imagination about his oral talents. Meanwhile, Jackson watched, blushing like a schoolgirl.

Kyle Graham has been glued to Alex’s side all night, growling at anyone who glances at the coach’s golden boy for even a second. Those two have some serious, unresolved matters to discuss, and I give it a week before Kyle has Alex bent over the penalty box. Or, hey, who knows? Maybe the reverse will be true.Whoever wants a ticket to a private show to see Kyle on his back, line up behind me!