Page 10 of Erotic Temptations 2

My breath fogged between us, probably with the faint stench of desperation. “I think you’re overestimating my athletic talent.”

Ryan’s grip tightened. He shifted me upright, feet parallel. “Nah. You were always good at this.”

That was news to me. “You’re confusing me with someone coordinated.”

“Never.” Something in the way he said it, just soft enough, made danger and comfort blend into a single, heady feeling. Was that his breath warming my cheek or just my imagination?

Maybe both.

He guided me forward, his palm splayed over my hip. Cold seeped up from the ice, but it was nothing compared to what was happening above my ankles. Every step felt like walking a tightrope between humiliation and…something else. The something else had Ryan’s hand moving confidently over my hoodie, steering me past gaggles of giggling children and one ancient lady in a sequined parka.

“You’re a natural,” Ryan lied blatantly as I windmilled for balance and nearly took us both out.

“If natural means destined forAmerica’s Funniest Home Videos, I agree.”

His laugh rumbled up between us. “Just let me steer. Trust me.”

Yeah, that was my issue, trust. Not the part where my knees turned to Jell-O if he so much as looked at me sideways. Ryan held me steady, his arms snug around my waist. Anyone passing by would assume we were a couple—or maybe just that I required full-time adult supervision.

I could live with either one.

We made it halfway around the rink before I surrendered to the obvious and let Ryan pull me in against him, back to front. He didn’t say anything, just pressed his hand to my stomach and angled me ahead of him, skating like we’d practiced the move for years.

His chin bumped my shoulder.

“This okay?” he asked. Instead of moving away, his thumb rubbed the hem of my sweatshirt, finding a strip of bare skin.

I felt a shock, followed by pure longing. I didn’t trust my voice, so I just nodded. If this was what counted as “skating,” I’d found my new favorite sport.

“Hold on.” Ryan guided us around a turn, my back swallowing the heat from his torso.

He was warm, sturdy, solid in that way that made me wonder what he’d be like pressed up against me in literally any other context. Not that my mind was in the gutter. Not at all.

He smelled like generic laundry soap and the faint afterburn of coffee. It was weirdly intoxicating, considering we were just feet away from a table of crying toddlers.

His fingers flexed, pulling our bodies tighter together.

My mouth went dry. “If my old gym teacher could see me now…”

“He’d be jealous.” Ryan’s voice dropped, almost a growl. “You look good, Alan.”

The sincerity in his tone would have floored me if Ryan’s arms hadn’t already been locked around my waist.

A kid zipped by and nearly took out my left skate. Ryan caught me, saving my dignity and probably my teeth.

“Still think you don’t need me?” he teased.

I shook my head and let myself lean back. “Never said that.”

His answer was another press of his palm to my belly, this time holding, lingering.

If I’d been waiting for a sign, well, this was it.

* * * *

After three full circuits of the rink and zero major injuries, Ryan guided me toward the benches. My ankles throbbed, and my fingers were going numb, but in a weird way, I felt more alive than I had in months.

“Hot chocolate?” he offered, slipping his hand into mine like it was the most natural thing in the world.