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Max hisses. His entire expression shifts away from amusement. I recognize the intensity in his eyes. It goes hand in hand with how every muscle of his body grows taut.
“Where did all the teasing go, Cassiano?” I bet my smile looks positively predatory.
He swallows with difficulty.
With a chuckle, I pull away from him to retrieve the stick I dropped on my way to him. If not for special practice starting in forty minutes or so, I would drag him into an empty corner for an extensive make-out session.
When I turn back around, he has one glove tucked between his elbow and his ribs, and he runs his free hand through his hair. The resulting mess only makes him look better.
I can’t believe this silly, adorable, far-too-hot guy who irritates me to no end is actually my boyfriend. How did I get so lucky?
Clearing my throat, I say, “Anyway, your skating’s pretty good, but it could be so much better. Luckily, I can help with that.”
“Only with that?” The corner of his lip goes up, making that little dimple appear. A flash of awareness travels down to the tips of my toes, and I can feel sweat trickling down my back like it’s a magic trick.
“Mind out of the gutter, Cassiano.”
“Whose fault is it? I was just here, minding my own business, before you came over with the clear intent to seduce innocent little me.” Max goes as far as crossing his hands over his chest, as if to protect his modesty.
I snort through my nose. “Innocent my butt.”
“Speaking of your butt, I quite like the way it fits in my hands.”
“Who’s seducing who now?” Unfortunately, Max knows just how wild he can make me with just a single kiss. It’s a power I wish I wouldn’t have given him, because it’s made him even more dangerous than he already was.
We discard our sticks and gloves near the center line. I lace my fingers with his, and we circle around the rink at a leisurely pace, like two lovesick fools on an ice skating date. Max tells me what he has in mind for the special training, and I share my ideas in return.I wasn’t bragging earlier when I said my skating skills are better than his. I honed them through desperate blood, sweat, and tears. He’s more than happy to leave that section of the training to me.
“And seriously,” I add. “You really do need to improve your edge work. It will give you more range of attack when you’re able to basically skate in any direction in any situation.”
With a side glance, he says, “I know. I also know you’ll be my best teacher ever.”
My chest puffs up with pride, but I want to throw him a bone too.
“I’ll admit your stick-handling skills are superior, though—stop giving me that look, you perv.”
With a tug, Max pulls me up against the boards and leans against me. “I can’t help it, Luz. You make me electric.”
Sighing, I slide my hands up his arms and broad shoulders until I find the short hair at the back of his head. And I bring him closer to me.
Against his lips, I whisper, “Funny, you have the exact same effect on me.”
I’ll never tire of how his lips feel against mine. Like a promise of the future and a threat to my sanity all at once. They’re enough to make me forget where I am, enough to make me lose control in my own skin. I open my mouth wide to let him in, and Max doesn’t waste a second. Our breaths mingle, and the warmth travels to every cell in my body. In a matter of seconds, I’m the human version of a melted candle in his arms.
Max tears a guttural sound from my throat when I feel his hands pressing against my butt, pushing me against him until I have no choice but to wrap my legs around his waist. Feeling his smile against my lips sends my pulse skyrocketing to new heights.
“Max.” His name comes out like a moan. “This is a dangerous game we’re playing.”
“I know.” His face is buried in my neck. One of his sneaky, sneaky hands lowers the zipper of my jacket. He settles it right on my side. Another promise and threat. “And I’ll stop soon.”
But I don’t let him. I bury my hands in his hair and keep him firmly in place. Max continues kissing my neck like it’s my mouth. His own is open, his tongue lashing at my skin, his teeth nibbling.
Mierda, we really need to stop.
I pat his shoulder until he gets the hint. Slowly, he lowers me back down until my skates are firmly on the ice. Our bodies are still glued to each other.
With trembling hands, I fix his hair to make him more presentable. There’s no hiding the flush on our faces or the swollen lips, but it won’t help to give anyone any further ideas. The fact that his hands are still firmly on my hips as I work doesn’t help. I let my hands rest on his chest. His heart thumps at a frantic rhythm.
Biting my lip, I say, “Have I mentioned you make me wild?”
