CHAPTER 31
Ana
IT’S TIME TO focus.
Just two practices before we reach the ice.
Troy’s back from his vacation today. I don’t know why I’m fidgeting this much, waiting for him to meet me in the studio. Colette’s late, per usual.
The door swings open, and my heart leaps with adrenaline. Must just be the damn caffeine from my coffee that I should’ve stayed away from. An all-nighter needed to be made last night for the physics reading that’s been taking me far longer to get through than typical.
Troy strolls in, his soft golden tan noticeable right away.
I start to picture his warm skin out in the hot Grecian sun, bare, and tight, over my— I slam my book shut at the horniness that’s plagued my body after it received one stupid touch from this guy weeks ago. That’s how dry my current spell is.
His eyes meet mine with a simple smile. Too simple. Deceptively friendly.
“I got this for you,” he says, his eyes glimmering.
My gaze falls on the card he’s holding in his palm, apprehensively, as I lift to my feet.
When I take the item from his hand, I notice it’s a postcard, with a giant and obnoxious font, reading:
“Greetings from Greece!”
I flip to the back, and it’s in his handwriting.
Dearest Annabel,
There was this bird that wouldn’t stop bothering me by the pool today.
It reminded me of you.
Love,
Troy
I toss the card onto the floor.
“Thanks. I love it,” I deadpan, walking back to my things to take off my jacket before we start.
Troy stands in faux shock before digging into his gym bag. Then he chugs a plastic bag tied with a cobalt blue ribbon my way. I catch it.
It’s saltwater taffy. My favorite.
He leans forward, and his clean scent mixed with citrus and musk distracts me for a moment.
I study the bag of candy in my palm before cocking a brow at him. “You added poison to this?”
“Just the way you like it.” He doesn’t even break his grin. “And if something happens, don’t worry, I’ll save you with a true love’s kiss.”
“You can kiss my ass.”
“Hm, that seems a little inappropriate, but if that’s what you want…”
I roll my eyes and set the candy down into my bag, feeling a gush of warmth at the gesture. “Thanks.”
He reaches into the pockets of his pants, before pulling out his phone and meticulously typing something into it.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Documenting that you just said ‘thanks’ to me.”
“Funny.”
“I didn’t go on the vacation for fun,” he admits, putting his phone away. His gaze turns serious. “It was for my younger brother. And I left early. I wasn’t trying to bail on our practice.”
I can see it in his eyes that he’s telling the truth. Guilt fills me for initially suggesting his trip was reckless sabotage to our sessions.
“Maybe I was a little rude about it all,” I confess. “I was just annoyed.”
“So…” He crosses his arms. “Is this a truce?”
“I don’t think there could ever be a truce between us, but I guess it’s close enough.”
“I’ll take it.” He smiles. “I missed you, Petrov.”
“Yeah? You missed pissing me off.”
“Exactly. It’s good to be back.”
Troy pulls his sweatshirt over his head, and his shirt underneath lifts along with it, momentarily. When I spot the two chiseled lines that trail into his pants, I fidget at the wetness I feel through my panties.
I need a bell. Like a giant fucking bell to ring in my ear every time I have this strong and idiotic urge to fuck my skating partner. Because, NOT HAPPENING, ANA. Wake up.
_________
Today’s practice with Colette went really well. There’s just one lift that I’m particularly struggling with. Well, my shoulders are not wanting to cooperate with. During our solo session afterward, with all my muscles more tense, the problem feels even more magnified.
“I can’t get this move right,” I slump, while Troy bites down on his bottom lip, anxiously.
“You’re gonna kill me if I say this to you, again, but…” he trails off.
“My posture,” I fill in the blank.
He gestures like ding, ding, ding, we have a winner.
I groan inside.
Every time Troy’s brought up my posture previously, I wanted to scream. But, right now, I remember how he helped me briefly fix it right before he left for his vacation. How relaxed my shoulders felt in an instant. And knowing how good his form is, just this once, I push down my pride and oblige.
“Okay, what should I do?” I ask.
Troy gestures for me to turn around. “Grab the barre.”
My belly flips. “What?”
“Do you trust me?”
“Shockingly…yes.” I anchor my weight onto the barre that’s now sandwiched between me and the mirrored studio wall.
Troy brings a palm to my right hip. With his other hand, he starts at the top of my stomach, flattening his palm as he travels to my left hip, expanding my torso.
“You want to lift your stomach without straining your shoulders.” His hands land along my shoulder blades.
“Drop your shoulders enough to where your hold’s still tight, but not tense. ”
I try to relax my shoulders, but all I feel is tense, so I roll them back in frustration while tilting my neck up to release the strain there as well.
“Let’s try something else,” he suggests.
Troy pulls on the knot of my hair tie, undoing it before handing me the scrunchie. He instructs, “Close your eyes.”
When my eyes are shut, I feel his weight reach closer against my back. A shiver jets down my spine.
“Fall on me.”
“What? Where are you?” I feel my body start to tense up, again. “Are you moving?”
“No, I’m right here.”
Okay. I can breathe again.
I let go of the barre, and then I—fall. But, it’s hardly even a fall? I land, relaxed against his chest, his arms enveloped on either side of me.
“Open your eyes.” He leans his face toward my side profile. “When you let go like this, your chest and shoulders open up.” Pushing my weight back up slowly, he adds, “So that when you’re lifting your torso, you do it without overstraining your upper muscles.”
His hands skate down my body. “Now lift your hips for me.”
Lust coats his words. My pulse quickens and core starts to drip with heat.
I hold the barre again, really pushing my abs up, while trying to keep my neck in the same position that he recommended.
Troy also helps, lifting my weight in the air, my extended knee resting right above the barre.
“There you go,” he announces. “I’m a really great coach.”
I scoff at him through the reflection. “I’m the one who should be telling you that.”
“But you won’t, so…”
“Fine, you’re a good coach,” I surrender. “I dunno if I’d call you great, though.”
Troy lets out a chuckle at my words as he lowers me down a few inches.
My hips reach closer to the barre. His weight is still holding mine from behind.
To practice the starting position of our lift, now with extra support from the barre, he tries to regain our balance.
But when he pushes me up another inch again, the thin fabric of my leggings touches the railing, and my clit feels a tingle of pleasure.
I suck in the gasp that was about to escape me before Troy hears it.
His expression seems unfazed. He didn’t hear it. That was close.
He pushes me up a second time and back down again, not realizing the affect it’s having on my body.
It’s too late for me to hide it when my breathing grows louder, my mind starting to race.
Even my eyes feel heavier now, wanting to ask him to keep moving me up, then back down, again. Up. And then back down.
Troy leans in when he catches my aroused expression through the mirror.
“You want me to keep lifting you so you can keep rubbing your pussy against that barre, don’t you?”
My clit throbs against the barre at his foul words, desperately needing a release. Needing to be touched. Rubbed. Something.
This isn’t me.
This isn’t me because I’d usually have ten comebacks to a sentence like that. Except, Troy’s never spoken to me like that before. And my body is having an embarrassing reaction to what he just said.
He lifts me up slightly, but slowly. Waiting…for my response. His eyes teasing mine, edging me from more pleasure.
“Well, too bad, Annabel,” he tsks. “We’re rehearsing right now.”
Then he pushes me back down to my feet.