Page 7 of When Ben Loved Jace

He nods. “Do you know how?”

“I mean, technically. I hope you’ve got good health insurance.”

He laughs.

I do not. “Seriously! I’m going to need you to sign a waiver.”

“I’ll take my chances,” he says with a subtle smile.

God he’s handsome! I’ve mostly only seen him beneath the fluorescent lights at work, always with a counter separating us. I stay close to him as we approach the skate rental booth. He smells good, but I don’t think it’s cologne. The scent is clean, like he took a shower right before coming here. He’s much taller than me. Most guys are, but he’s above average in height. Jace catches me staring and doesn’t seem to mind. I think he likes it, but his attention is torn away by the man in the booth, who asks our shoe sizes. I try not to read into Jace’s answer.

Okay, I totally do, because I hope he has a great big cock. I know such things don’t matter. I’ve been with guys smaller than me who left me trembling with pleasure. And I’ve been with a few who were hung and absolutely terrible in the bedroom. Chemistry and skill count for more than size, but if you’re dreaming, why not go for broke?

Jace insists on paying. We make small talk while pulling on our skates. I bungle lashing up the laces. Jace notices my struggles and squats in front of me to help. While doing so, he looks up, his eyes searching mine, and I already want him. I just love how large he is. Even his head, as silly as that sounds. I want to place my dainty paws on either side of it, lean forward, and—

“There you go,” Jace says before standing and offering his hand.

I take it eagerly, delighted by how warm and soft it feels wrapped around mine.

I cry out in protest when he lets go of me again, but thankfully, he misinterprets the reason.

“If you’re nervous, you can hold on to me,” he says, bending his arm at the elbow.

“I’m terrified,” I lie when wrapping myself around it.

He isn’t a gym rat, but I do feel some muscle. I’m glad he isn’t scrawny like me. Contrast is a beautiful thing. I rely on him aswe hobble toward the ice. “I haven’t been on skates for years,” I warn. “Are you any good?”

“We’re about to find out,” he replies.

I look over in shock. “You’ve never skated before?”

A smile tugs at his cheek. He’s toying with me.

We ease out onto the ice together. I slip almost immediately, clawing at his jacket to stay upright. Jace stabilizes me with his free hand, gripping my shoulder and pulling me closer. Which I like, but I tease him about it anyway. “Now I see why you suggested this.”

“We’re just getting started,” he murmurs.

“That guy at the rental booth seemed to recognize you,” I say as we move forward again. “How many boys have you brought here?”

“Just you,” he assures me. “You’re doing fine.”

It’s all coming back to me. Like riding a bicycle, except I never exactly mastered skating. I manage some momentum. Soon we’re slowly gliding alongside each other, although I still have a death grip on his jacket.

“Do you want to take my hand?” he suggests.

“Yeah!”

His fingers intertwine in mine, which attracts a few stares as we continue around the rink. This doesn’t seem to bother him.

“You’re not in the closet, I take it?”

I’m surprised we made it this far without me having asked, because it’s usually something I want to know upfront. Once bitten, twice shy.

“Only when choosing something to wear,” he replies. “Although if I’m honest, what I have at home is closer to a cupboard, so no. I’m not in the closet. What about you?”

“I was shoved out when I was fourteen. By the time I turned around, the door had shut and locked behind me.

He whistles under his breath, as if impressed. “Fourteen! How did that go?”