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He’s as stony faced as ever when he brings the cutting board over to the island so he can work next to me. All I can see is the line of his neck, and the swoop of his eyelashes as he concentrates on chopping. “You could have.”
I scowl down at the top of his head. I knew he would say that. “No. I couldn’t have.”
I watch the tops of his shoulders move with a sigh, and he turns around, moving gracefully around the large kitchen. He doesn’t speak again until he returns to the chopping board.
“I don’t know if I can…” He trails off, starting over. “Listen, I know that I’m not exactly fulfilling any of your needs, so if you want to see other people that’s okay.”
“I don’t want.”
He sighs again, and sets the knife down. He looks up at me, perched above him on the counter. “I’ve never had sex before. So, I have no idea what I’m doing,at all, and you make me really fucking nervous. I don’t know if I’ll be able to do…”
He trails off, losing steam. He goes to turn his face away and I reach out, catching his jaw lightly with the tips of my fingers. “You don’t ever have to do anything you don’t want to do. You’re not expected to have sex with me, or anyone else for that matter.”
“Idowant to.” The mask slips, just a little, and his eyes look anguished, like he’s in physical pain. I’m still touching his face, and he hasn’t asked me to stop. “I just don’t know…I don’t know if I can, or when.”
“Okay.” I swipe my thumb, lightly, over his chin. “I want to circle back to what you said before, though, about me making you nervous. Is that because of—”
“No.” He says, firmly. “It’s because you look likethat, and you’re really good at kissing and probably everything else too. And I definitely won’t be. So…yeah, it’s me not you.”
He laughs, a short, self-depreciating sound that breaks my heart. I move my hand a little further up his face, and he presses his cheek into my palm. “How about you tell me what you’re ready for, when you’re ready for it. If you don’t like it, we don’t do it again. Simple as that.”
“That sounds like everything revolves around me and doesn’t take into account what you want.”
“Well, I just want you. Any way I can have you.” I rub my thumb over his cheek bone, leaning down to kiss the other cheek like he did to me the other night. When I straighten and drop my hand away from his face, I notice his own is resting on my leg.
He inhales, shaking his head. “I wish I actually had the balls to talk to you six years ago. What a waste of fucking time.”
Removing his hand, he picks the knife back up and resumes chopping. I watch him as he travels around the space, preparing dinner, and I think I can detect a defeated slump to his shoulders, although his face is as blank as always. His eyes skitter away from mine more often than they stay, and I wonder if he’s worrying about our conversation.
Halfway through dinner, the inside of my mouth burning from a still-hot bite, Corwin drops his own slice of pizza onto his plate. “Okay, you can’t possibly be okay with not having sex.”
I swallow, which burns my throat and makes my eyes water. Hastily, I drink some water. “Why?” I cough.
“Because you’ve got a reputation, and not just on the ice. There’s always pictures of you with models, and actresses, and whomever floating around.”
“True. I don’t want to do that anymore, though. Clubbing and picking up people after games; I’m too old for that shit.”
“You’re thirty-four years old!”
“Okay, well you’re twenty-four years old, and I remember how it felt to be twenty-four. You’re horny all the fucking time,” I point at him, eyes narrowed, “don’t tell me you’re not. So, what doyoudo, if you’re not getting laid?”
He bites the inside of his cheek, considering; when he sighs, I know I’ve won this particular argument. “I jack off. Like, a lot.”
Smiling, I take another bite of pizza. It’s cooled down a bit, and all my tastebuds have been seared off anyway. “Fantastic, I’ll do the same. Maybe we can do it together.” I waggle my eyebrows at him and his lips twitch.
He sighs again, shaking his head. “I can’t figure out why you’re bothering.”
I pop my thumb into my mouth, sucking off some of the pizza sauce, and lean back in my chair. “Is there any way I could answer that that would convince you?”
He opens his mouth, pauses, and closes it again, casting his eyes toward the ceiling. “No, probably not.”
Later, I nudge his foot with mine below the table, bringing his gaze back to mine. Usually, I leave pretty much right away after dinner; staying only long enough to help him clean up, not wanting to overstay my welcome. But we have an off day tomorrow, and there is an ease between us tonight, like we might finally be on the same page, or at least close. I think of all the times he’s voluntarily touched me tonight, or let me touch him, each one a miniature victory. I wonder if I can get away with a couple more.
“Washington plays tonight.” I note, and he nods. “Do you want to watch the game?”
He smiles. A real, honest to god smile that is so beautiful it nearly sends me into cardiac arrest. “Hell yes, do you want to stay and watch with me?” He reaches to grab my empty dinner plate. I snatch it back before he can take it from me, and hold a hand out until he passes me his too.
“Obviously I want to stay and watch it with you, idiot. Go sit down, I’ll clean this up.”
