Page 23 of A Gold Medal in Love
Well, fine. That’s just fine. I don’t need to have a stupid fucking fling at the Olympics, anyway—no matter how delicious (and now unobtainable) my roommate is. I can stay focused on my performance.
Realistically, I don’t even have time for a fling when I should be working on that Goddamn triple axel. Just when I’ve started to think that nailing it is within my grasp, I land the slightest bit wrong on the edge of my skate and flub it. With a landing like that, I cannot conceivably put the jump into my free skate. I would be risking receiving any medal at all, and I know that it’smy first Olympics. Hopefully, I’ll have more of these to come. But I want to come back as a gold medalist.
“See ya, Cupcake,” Blake salutes me as they leave, stopping to boop me on the nose on the way out.
“I’m not your fucking Cupcake!” I angrily yell at their back, lacking anything else of real substance to say after that whirlwind of an encounter.
“Then why have you been responding to it?” I hear Blake retort as the door closes.
Well, that’s a fine point. But also, if they’ve been and are still calling me Cupcake, doesn’t that mean that this is actuallynotthe end of the discussion?
CHAPTER
TEN
BLAKE
Olympics Day6
Monday, February 9, 2026
I’ve spent an entire game against Italy being as aggressive as I was against Sweden the other day—perhaps even more so. There’s only one reason for that, and she had better be in our room when I get there. It’s been three days of me replaying the almost-kiss, followed by two days of watching her hungrily watchmeand try to coquettishly lure me in while we are in the room.
Not even scoring a goal myself during the game is enough to sate me today. I am clearly in my follicular phase, and temptation is getting the better of me. At this point, I don’t even feel bad about it. I am certainly not telling Charlie so she can talk me out of this car crash. She’s busy romancing her girl—not that she would admit to romancing, but I know stars when I see them.
Pushing my key into the lock angrily, I’m already heaving. It takes me a couple of tries to open the door due to my adrenaline—which started spiking in the game, and refuses to crash until I see this through. It bangs behind me as I rush through to findImani sitting on her bed watching something on her iPad, but it doesn’t seem to be tape, from how she hastily shuts it down and hides it under her pillow guiltily. Later, I think, as I stomp toward her.
She rears back, eyes flashing with something more complex than fear as I crouch down to her level and stare into her eyes.
“Let me ask you a question,” I can’t help but growl out. “Do you still want me?”
“Yes!” Imani answers with no hesitation, leaning into me.
“Do I have consent to kiss you?” I grind out, trying to keep from jumping out of my skin.
She nods enthusiastically.
“I’m going to need verbals, Imani,” I say with frustration.
“Yes! Yes, ple—” she begins, but I snap.
Pulling her forward by her throat, I pull her into my body, planting my lips on hers. Opening for me immediately, she throws herself headlong into the kiss. I stroke her tongue with mine, feasting on her mouth as our lips meet in synchronicity over and over.
Her whimpers spur me into further action, and I decide I can keep this going for just a little bit longer. Keeping a hand on her throat, I bring my other hand to her hip and bodily move her to lie against the pillow. It’s heaven having her under me at fucking last. It’s been mere days since the bathroom incident, and I’m already ravenous for her. As she knocks my hat off my head and threads her hands through my hair, I reflect that I’m honestly probably a saint for the amount of willpower that I’ve demonstrated thus far.
I use my hold on her throat to keep her in place as I reluctantly pull away from her. “Goddamn, Cupcake. That was as good as I imagined it would be—and I have a very active imagination.”
“More,” she begs, squirming into the mattress.
“Not yet. We have to have a conversation first,” I inform Imani, hating myself with every word.
Because she’s apparently a natural brat, too, she bats those long eyelashes against her cut cheekbones and rolls her body beautifully so that she grinds her pussy on the leg that I’ve put between her thighs.
“You’re racking up punishment and you don’t even know what you’re asking for, Cupcake,” I warn her darkly.
“I’ll take it. I’ll take anything you want to give me. Just give me more,” Imani blurts out and then covers her mouth with a hand, brown eyes going wide-eyed at her own begging.
I chuckle, sliding my hand from her throat to caress her cheek. “It’s okay. I like it when you beg. Don’t be embarrassed. Unless you like the embarrassment. We can talk about that. We’re already going to talk about all of it. You’re safe with me—that’s precisely why we have to stop. I absolutely cannot go further with you if I want to establish that safety. Okay?”