Page 77 of At the Edge with You

Pride swells in my chest. “That means a lot. I think it’s because we work well together.”

“We do,” Jett agrees, kissing my temple. “And you are amazing.”

I giggle to myself as Dean leans on the table. “Next, I need the south rink redone.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” I gush. “That’s my goal for next summer, I want to see how much revenue we can bring in fortravel season, and if things go the way we want, then we should be able to do a huge overhaul.”

Dean holds up his hand for a high five, and I give it willingly. Despite the glare that Jett flashes us. Liam laughs as he pulls Dean away from the table. “We’ll get the next round.”

Jett’s fingers knead into my hip, and I take a pull of my drink. As I swallow, he brings his lips to my ear. “Do you know how hot it makes me when you talk about our rink?”

My face flushes as I turn my head so that our eyes meet. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says, his eyes searching mine. I cup his jaw, running my thumb through the coarse hair. “You really are doing amazing things, Fable.”

“We’redoing them,” I correct, and he sighs.

“Yeah, since I stopped being an idiot and workedwithyou.”

I grin. “True. Just like I said.”

“You did,” he tells me, brushing his lips against my cheek.

He holds me to him as we watch everyone line dance and have a blast. I’m happy where I am, and by how closely Jett holds me, I think he may feel the same. These three weeks have been more than I ever could have imagined. We’ve spent so much time together.

I usually don’t find myself in those kinds of situations. I usually just do me and the guy I’m dating does him, but with Jett, I want all his time and attention. I love skating with him, arguing with him about the budget, and then working together to bring more revenue to the Thistle. We take turns cooking for each other, and my favorite part of the day is when we go to Noelle’s for breakfast. Not only do I get to chitchat with Noelle, but it’s the start I need to every morning.

Coffee, a pastry, and Jett’s smile.

We are a force to be reckoned with on the ice, and I’m blown away by how well our program is coming together. But my favorite place is in bed with him.

I have discovered so many things about myself. What I like and what I like to do to him. When he said that my pleasure is his, I didn’t fully understand, but I’ve learned that his is mine. I want it so badly, and when I take him over the edge, I feel powerful. Jett plays my body like a puck, and I love being at his mercy. Despite his rough exterior, he is so tender, gentle, and wants my desire like it’s his next breath. His check-ins make me feel treasured, not that I really need them. I’m fully focused on him the moment he touches me. He makes me feel more alive than skating ever has, and I’ve never been happier.

I turn to look up at him, surprised that he is looking down at me, his brows pulled in tight. “You’re thinking mighty hard.”

I smile bashfully. It’s insane how in sync we are. “I need to tell you something.”

Alarm fills his features as he presses his lips together. “Okay?”

I bite my lip as I turn toward him so that my chest presses to his. “You know my therapist, Alissa?” His eyes widen a bit before he nods, so I continue. “I had an impromptu session with her and told her all about you.” Apprehension moves across his face, and I smile to try to ease it a bit. “You see, I haven’t been able to talk about you for the last couple months because I’ve been so confused over how I felt and the need I had for you. I was worried she’d tell me it wasn’t real, that I was masking or trying to be what you want. And I’m not,” I add quickly, when he presses his lips together harder. “I am myself with you, and you still want me.”

“I do,” he promises, hooking his finger with mine.

“I know,” I say softly. “And after these last few weeks, I just knew it was true, so I told her about us. I questioned how I couldfeel all this when I’m apparently asexual.” When he sets me with a glare because he refuses to accept labels, I squeeze his finger. “I know you hate my labels, but I do have some.”

“Not to me.”

My shoulders fall, in awe of him, my eyes burning with unshed tears. I swallow past the ball of emotion in my throat as I gaze up at him. This morning, he saw me pull out all my meds and take them. I was sure I would hear how I don’t need them, but he didn’t do that. He said that while he hates the labels people put on me, if the meds make me the best version of myself, whoIwant to be, then he supports them. He supports me. My heart still swells every time I think of his affirming words. He leaves me breathless at every turn, and I hope I make him feel how important he is to me.

On a sigh, I say, “She was so happy for me and said that she noticed a shift in my demeanor, that I seemed so much happier. I told her it was you.” He pulls me in, bringing our joined fingers behind his back so that our chests touch. “I asked how I can be asexual and be able to feel all these things I do. She told me that she suspects she was wrong, that more than likely I was demisexual, which means that I only feel intense intimacy with someone when I have a soul-deep bond with them.”

I watch as the words register in his brain, and the sight is otherworldly. His eyes widen, flaring with passion. When he looks at me like this, it’s hard not to cover his body with mine and try to become one with him. “So, you’re saying you have a soul-deep bond with me?”

I nod slowly, my eyes never leaving his. “I think I always have.”

He moves his hand from my waist to my cheek, cupping it so gently as his gaze burns into mine. “I know I have, Fable. And while I hate labels, I’m okay with this one.”

“You are?”

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