Chapter 15 #2
Her words muffle in my ears when the music restarts, and Dylan’s hands slide down my body—from my face, down to the curve of my neck, over my arms, where his thumb brushes the side of my breasts. My breath hitches, and my gaze springs away from his.
“Eyes on me, Sierra,” he reprimands.
Everything feels hot and dangerous. Having to look into Dylan’s eyes only makes it all the more intense.
Each of his long fingers presses over the fabric of my half-zip down to my waist, where the hem rises, exposing a sliver of skin on my back, and lower, until he rests his palm on my hip.
There’s a hot flush that travels with the touch, and I can’t seem to look away from his gaze pinning me right there, unwavering.
All I hear, all I feel, is my heart thrumming below the surface of my electrified skin. The room is stuffy as Lidia corrects our stance, forcing us closer than before, placing our hands in each other’s.
This time, when Dylan sets me down, I trip over his foot and fall face-first. Yup, the mats still taste the same.
“Thanks a lot, butterfingers,” I mutter.
“You fell all on your own,” Dylan retorts. “Probably because you’re so stiff.”
I grit my teeth. “Your hold is too loose. You would never be able to lift me for long enough on the ice.”
Coach nods, staring at the mats for what feels like an eternity. “Good. Constructive criticism is good.” That sentence alone tells me it is not in fact good. “But those are small problems. Problems that partners work through because they trust each other.”
Dylan scoffs, and my head snaps in his direction. It irritates me even more.
His wavy brown hair falls perfectly over his forehead, and he’s not even sweating—like tossing me around for the past hour is just part of his morning routine. Meanwhile, I’m drenched, muscles burning, and all I can think is how effortless he makes everything look. It’s infuriating.
“Dylan, put your hands on her waist, and, Sierra, press into his shoulders as he lifts you. You need to focus on control and eye contact—” Lidia’s phone rings. “I need to take this. Don’t kill each other.”
My eyes dart to the door, and I sigh. “I’ll be in control.”
“Just how I like it,” Dylan says.
I ignore him, purposely avoiding eye contact. When his hands bracket my abdomen, my stomach is sore, but I don’t complain.
“Lidia specifically said we have to maintain eye contact. Why can’t you look at me?” Dylan asks suddenly, breaking the silence.
“I am,” I reply, keeping my tone flat.
“You’re looking through me, not at me.”
My chest tightens as I force my gaze up to meet his. “Happy?”
His eyes flicker over my face, lingering on my lips, tracing the curve of my cheeks. “Extremely.”
“Can we just get this over with?”
“Are you sure? That means you’ll have to keep looking at me. I don’t want to put you out, Sierra. Maybe I should put a bag over my head.”
My lips twitch. “Please do. That would solve half my problems.”
“Yeah? Has my face been on your mind? In your dreams, maybe?”
I bristle. “Mm-hmm. You’re in a lot of them, actually.”
His brows lift with interest. “Yeah? What do we do in them? I should know, considering you’re using my likeness for your fantasies. Could be illegal.”
I stare him down, refusing to falter. “There’s a lot of digging.”
His smirk vanishes. Without warning, he spins me sharply, then pulls me back into his chest. The retaliation knocks the air from my lungs, and I grunt, barely catching my balance as my hands tighten on his biceps.
My gaze snags on the veins on his forearms, but I rip it away, willing the heat in my cheeks to disappear.
“You were a second away from tasting the mats again. You okay?” he asks. “You seem distracted.”
“Fine.” The word barely sounds convincing.
“Are you sure?” he asks, feigning concern as he presses the back of his hand to my forehead. “Looks like you’re burning up.”
I swat it away. “That’s just my body rejecting your touch.”
A smug grin spreads across his face, and his thumb traces the curve of my jaw. A jolt of heat zips through me at the contact. “I wouldn’t call that a rejection. Looks more like a reaction.”
“Yeah, an allergic one.”
“Wasn’t aware you felt so strongly about me, Sierra.”
I scoff, trying to keep my composure. “I feel nothing for you.”
“Nothing?” He smirks, his eyes holding mine captive.
That is when I make my first mistake.
I shove Dylan instinctively, throwing him off-balance. He stumbles when I lean forward, sending him crashing backward. He lets out a low “oof” when I land on top of him.
“You okay?” he asks, gazing so gently that something cracks inside of me.
My hair comes loose from my hair clip, falling forward to frame my face.
My hands are still pressed into his shoulders, now clutching the fabric of his tank top.
Dylan’s expression smooths when his gaze drops to see me straddling him.
The heat in the room has been unbearable, but this close to him, I’d turn into ash.
His cool hand rises, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers grazing my jaw. I lick my lips, the motion drawing his attention, dark and intent.
So this is what it feels like to have a man’s attention so focused on you it’s borderline predatory. Somehow, I know without a doubt that it wouldn’t feel like this with anyone else. So completely flammable and stupidly reckless that I crave it.
That’s when I make my second mistake.
I crash my mouth to his, and unlike what I’d expect, Dylan hesitates. I almost pull back entirely, but then as though clearing his head, he grips the back of my neck and pulls me down until my chest is pressed to his.
His grip tightens on my hips, and when he parts his lips, I let my tongue slide between them. He doesn’t wait to do the same, sucking my tongue before giving me his. So soft, so wet, so Dylan.
He’s so good at this it sends a tremor through me. Dylan lets me kiss him like my next breath depends on his. Then it’s rough and desperate, teeth grazing my lip before he pulls away, leaving me gasping. His lips trail down my neck, nipping at my jaw as low sounds escape him.
When he finds a spot below my ear, I cry out, but he captures my mouth to swallow every sound.
My hips rock against his firm touch, and I can’t consciously stop my body from reacting like this.
He’s all hard muscles and soft skin, his mouth leaving nothing to question.
He moans from somewhere low in his throat, and I don’t hold back the whimper that spills out of me.
It sparks a wildfire in its wake, traveling from my fingertips all the way to my toes. It feels almost overwhelming.
Then he moves his hand higher to my waist, trying to slip under my shirt when the fog in my brain and body clears, the heat slowly fading. I stop his hand, and he removes it immediately. He pulls back, eyes heavy-lidded, brows furrowed. Then, all at once, his expression shifts.
“Sierra, we—”
The door swings open and I fly off him, lying flat on the mat just as Lidia reenters the room. “Excuse—” Her eyes dart between us before she clears her throat. “Falling is good. That’s why we have mats. Now, up.”
We scramble to our feet, standing a foot apart and completely stiff. You’d think we were strangers, let alone two people who nearly dry humped.
Lidia notices, and whatever she sees makes her clap twice. “Okay, that’s enough for today. The walls are melting.”
So am I.
My shoulders drop on an exhale, but I don’t protest. I can feel Dylan’s gaze stuck to the side of my face, but I don’t dare look back. A rash of embarrassment makes my skin itch. I don’t know what he was going to say before Lidia came in, but it sounded and looked a lot like rejection.
I swallow against the dryness in my throat, my top clinging uncomfortably to me. I’m out the door before I’m tempted to even look at Dylan. Outside, the cool rain sizzles against my heated skin.