Wanted by the Champion: An age gap instalove romance

Cate

Dropping down onto the polished wooden bench in the empty women’s locker room, I wince as I pull my skate off. My ankle is tender. I rolled it during practice on the last throw triple loop, an element that I normally have in the bag. I hate falling in general, but I especially hate falling in front of Alex. There’s a part of me that still feels like this is a giant prank, and it’s all about to be snatched away. That still feels like it’s impossible that one of the best skaters in the world chose me.

I gently probe my ankle, but I don’t think it’s sprained. Just angry. Nothing that some ibuprofen and an ice pack won’t help.

Say what you want about figure skating, but our sport is not for the weak. No wimps allowed. It may look like it’s all frilly dresses and graceful gliding, but you should see some of the bruises I’ve had.

Not to mention almost cracking my skull open.

I grab a quick shower, humming along to the Taylor Swift song stuck in my head and trying to run through our new choreography.

I’m never able to make it through the entire routine in my mind before I get lost in thoughts of Alex.

He’s the hottest man I’ve ever laid eyes on.

But my crush is quickly turning into more than just wanting to jump his bones, which I do. Pretty sure I should just rename my vibrator Alex at this point, since he’s all I think of when I use it. But it’s not just a physical thing. It’s the way he makes me feel safe. Makes me laugh. Seems interested in sharing his likes and dislikes with me, and genuinely cares what I think about whatever it is we’re discussing. I remember the way Danny used to steamroll over me, making me feel like my voice didn’t matter because I was younger and less experienced than he was.

But me and Alex? We click. Like, really click. And a part of me—the delulu part, probably—wonders if he sees it, too.

The water turns tepid and I finish up, dry off, get dressed, and twist my wet hair into a bun. My ankle is throbbing, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.

I’m only limping slightly when I step out of the locker room and almost run smack into Alex’s chest.

“Oh!” I breathe, taking a step back and then letting out an involuntary hiss when I shift all my weight to my ankle. “Shit.”

He frowns, and it transforms his entire face into something broody and stern. “You hurt your ankle.”

I suck in a shallow breath, panicked adrenaline shooting through me. He’s going to think I’m too injury-prone to be his partner. This is it. Less than a week in, and it’s done.

“I’m fine,” I say, trying to ignore the dread pooling in my stomach like oil.

He arches one eyebrow, and I’m pinned under the weight of his gaze.

I gently put weight on it, ignoring the throbbing pain radiating up my leg. “See? All good.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t lie to me, princess,” he says, his voice low and laced with warning. A hot shiver works its way down my spine, making me involuntarily arch my back.

Princess? Oh God, do I like that. Way too much.

Then, before I can figure out what to say, he bends down and scoops me up, cradling me against his hard chest.

And now I know what heaven feels like.

I have to fight the urge to wrap my arms around his neck, because if I do, my fingers will find their way into his hair. I also can’t lay my cheek against his chest and cuddle into him the way I want. He’ll think I’m deranged.

Without a word, he marches us into a small room near the locker rooms, the door closing firmly shut behind us. The light flickers on automatically, and I realize we’re in a first aid room. He sets me down on the pleather bench, and then rolls a stool over so he can sit in front of me.

“Take your shoe off,” he says, his tone gruff and a little bossy, which only dumps gasoline on my already burning attraction to him.

My fingers shake slightly as I undo my shoe laces and then slip it off, letting it fall to the floor with a soft thud. Alex takes my foot in his strong, warm hands, and I bite my lip to hold back a gasp.

Gently—so, so gently—he probes my ankle with his long fingers, and I wince. “You rolled it pretty good,” he says quietly, his deep voice reverberating in the small room. It’s so neat and tidy—a perfect contrast to my messy, tangled insides.

“I know. I don’t think it’s sprained or anything though. Just a minor twist. I’m fine, really.” The words fall out of me in a breathless rush. If I reassure him that I’m okay, maybe he won’t drop me.

Figuratively, of course. Not literally.

“It’s a bit swollen,” he says, still prodding gently. His fingers are so warm that even though it hurts, I don’t want him to stop. “It needs ice.”

“I can just—“

“Don’t argue.” His words are quiet, but firm. Then he looks up at me, my foot still cradled in his hands. “Let me look after you.” His eyes meet mine, and a wave of heat washes over me.

There are so many ways I would let Alex look after me.

“Okay.” It’s a lame answer, but I have no other words right now. I’m too caught up in the tension whirling between us.

He opens a small fridge in the corner and retrieves an ice pack, wraps it in a cloth and then carefully lays it over my ankle. I inhale sharply at the cold. He holds the pack in place, my foot in his lap.

“I’m sorry,” I say after a moment.

He frowns, his eyebrows knitting together in a way that somehow only makes him hotter. “For?”

“Getting hurt like a week in and letting you down.”

His hand skims up to my calf and I have to fight back a whimper. He touches me for hours during practice, and while that turns me on, this is different. This is intimate. Sweet and caring. He’s not touching me because it’s part of our routine. The foolish part of me hopes he’s touching me simply because he wants to.

“Cate,” he says, and then clears his throat because his voice came out all jagged. His thumb traces a circle on the back of my calf and my clit is throbbing in time with my ankle. “Injuries happen. It’s part of the sport. This is minor, and it’s not your fault.” He looks up, those gorgeous brown eyes warm and sincere. “Did Danny make you feel like the crash was your fault?”

“I…” I open and close my mouth. “He never said those words. But things between us changed after that, even though I apologized, and I knew the partnership was over.”

“He should’ve been the one apologizing to you,” Alex says with a little growl that twists my stomach in knots. Good knots. He shakes his head, as though trying to shrug off his growliness. “Are you worried I’d change my mind about us if you got hurt?”

I bite my lip and tilt my head in a wordless maybe.

He lets out a low chuckle and shakes his head again, making that lock of hair fall across his forehead. “Not a chance. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” He adjusts the ice pack on my ankle, which is starting to feel a little better.

The rest of me, though…hard nipples, aching pussy, butterflies in my stomach…well, the rest of me is a bit of a mess.

“Why me?” I blurt out. Gah, I sound so insecure and needy. But I need to know.

“Why you?” He arches that eyebrow again and I’ve never in my life been so turned on by an eyebrow.

“Yeah. I know you think I’m a good skater, but I’m far from the best. You could’ve had your pick of anyone.”

He takes the ice from my ankle, and then retrieves a Tensor bandage from a drawer. Slowly, he unravels it and starts winding it tight around my ankle.

“I asked you to come for a trial skate because I watched you skate and I wanted you,” he says simply, as though his words aren’t tilting my world on its axis. “Then when we skated together, we found a rhythm easily and we clicked. That doesn’t always happen.” He finishes wrapping my ankle and stands from the stool, his hands bracketing my hips on the bench. “It’s new, but this has a lot of potential.”

“You watched me and you wanted me,” I whisper, and he shifts closer, his body heat washing over me.

He nods. “Yeah.”

“For…skating.” My heart is a hummingbird in my chest as his gaze drops to my mouth.

“Yeah. Skating.”

I nod shakily. “Okay. Well. That’s good. That you want me. For skating.”

He smells so good. I want that scent all over me. I want him to mark me with it, so that everyone knows I’m his.

Because it’s true. Even though I’ve only known him for a week, there’s already a part of me that belongs to him.

“And…” He lets the word hang there and then steps back from the bench. He stoops to pick up my shoe and gently slides it back on my bandaged foot. “I like you. You’re easy to be around. You’re a hard worker, but you also have fun. I think…it’s important to be friends.”

I blink slowly several times. I don’t want to be friends with Alex. I want him to rip my clothes off and take me on this bench.

I force myself to smile, despite the disappointment at getting friendzoned by my crush. “I like you, too. Thank you. For the first aid.”

He swallows thickly and takes another step back, shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. “Make sure you take some ibuprofen when you get home, and keep it elevated. Repeat the ice, too.”

I give a little salute. “Yes, sir.”

Alex’s eyes darken at my words, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s imagining me saying those words in a very different context, despite the fact that he just told me that we’re friends.

“Come on,” he says, picking up my discarded gear bag and slinging it over his shoulder, then offering me his arm. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

We walk in silence, and with every step, I try to convince myself that this is enough. That skating with Alex and being his friend is all I need out of this situation. That with time, my crush will fade, and I’ll be so relieved I didn’t act on it, jeopardizing our new partnership.

It’s enough. It’s more than enough.

He helps me into my car and walks across the parking lot to his, pulling out onto the road. Off to go do whatever he does when he’s not at the rink.

My partner. My friend. Nothing more.

“It’s not enough,” I whisper as I watch his taillights disappear.