“That somehow makes it worse.”
I tried to maintain composure, but his expression was too delighted, too openly charmed, and laughter escaped me again.
Dean’s eyes were warm as they held mine. “You realize you’ve changed, right?”
The observation caught me off guard. “How?”
“You joke now.” His fingers continued their slow path along my spine, grounding and distracting at the same time. “At first I thought you were gonna file paperwork before every conversation.”
I narrowed my eyes. “That is unfair.”
“You said ‘this interaction appears statistically inadvisable’ the first day we met.”
“I didnotsay that.”
“Well, whatever you said, that was the implication.”
I bit my lip. “I stand by that assessment.”
Dean grinned. “And now you’re making innuendos about buoyancy.”
I flushed. “That was not?—”
“It absolutely was.”
I gave up attempting dignity and pressed my forehead against his shoulder instead. Dean’s laughter faded, his hand sliding up into my hair.
“I like this version of you,” he murmured quietly.
For a man who spent most of his life trying to become what other people needed, being liked for who I actually was felt dangerously important.
Then Dean shifted lower in the bed, and I caught my breath. My hands were on his head a moment later, my back arched as he took me deep.
I can make time for this.
To lose myself in him.
The dining hallbuzzed with dozens of conversations layered over each other in multiple languages, athletes moving between foodstations in national team gear while coaches hovered nearby with coffee and exhausted expressions.
I stood there holding a tray, my pulse racing.
Does this count as a psychological stress test?
I spotted Dean’s table. He sat surrounded by Americans, his broad shoulders relaxed. Ethan lounged beside him mid-story while Noah laughed hard enough to spill orange juice across the table. The women were laughing too.
A bigger team than Velkarya’s and all of them faces I knew from watching videos of their performances.
Then Dean looked up. The moment he saw me, his expression changed, growing warmer.
As I approached, Ethan spotted me first. “Davorin!” He pointed at the empty chair beside him. “Come suffer coffee with us.”
I snorted. “That sounds less like hospitality and more like a threat.”
Ethan clutched his chest with a theatrical air. “He’s learning sarcasm. I’msoproud.”
Laughter moved around the table, and there was no tension in it, no discomfort, only acceptance.
That unsettled me more than hostility would have.
