Page 38 of Reckless On Ice

I let out a surprised chuckle and follow his lead, tucking my cock away and cleaning myself up. “I appreciate you thinking well of me, despite me losing my shit after coming. Feel free tojust hang up on my ass next time if you don't want to deal with me.”

He laughs now. “I don't let people go through it on their own when they open up to me. Besides, I have my own shit to deal with, and it’s kind of therapeutic hearing you say what I wish I could hear in my situation.”

“There’s someone for you, isn’t there?” I ask, kind of sad, but I feel the same.

He breathes out a long breath. “I’ve been in love with the same man for as long as I can remember knowing what romantic love was, and it’s always been unrequited. I’ve never expected him to even see me romantically. He’s an idiot and can't get his shit together, so I don't know if it’ll ever work out for us, but I can’t help holding onto hope that maybe someday he’ll see me the same way I see him. Call me a stupid romantic.”

“If you’re such a romantic, why do you use this app?” I ask with genuine curiosity.

It takes him a second to respond. He plays with the tie on his joggers, his long fingers moving in a mesmerizing way. “I don't have the option to go out and hook up or connect with guys like this. It’s safer for me to stay anonymous and send dick pics to get off. You’re the first person to ask me more than if I like your dick,” he says, sounding genuinely pleased. “Why are you on it?”

“It was curiosity, at first, and for attention, I think.”

“The attention is nice,” he says. “I bet you get a lot on here with that perfect cock.”

“You're the only one I talk to on this app, but you must be speaking from experience because yours is the most amazing one I’ve seen,” I say immediately. He chuckles in appreciation before I continue. “But I realized maybe it wasn’t just for attention. I don’t know, maybe I’ve always been interested in men, even if I couldn't admit it, and I realized coming with a man, even through an app, felt as good as coming with a woman.”

“That’s nothing to be ashamed about,” he says evenly.

“For me, there’s a lot of shit wrapped up in the idea of being gay. I have, I guess trauma or some shit that really fucked me up about the idea. I couldn’t wrap my head around what I wanted and what I knew was expected of me, so I shoved the part that wanted men down and went hard in the other direction. It terrifies me what it would mean, and who I would be if I looked too hard at that.”

“It’s just a term that helps other people categorize you, not anything that actually tells them who you are. You’re bi like you’re a poker player, or a pilot, or a dog owner. How much does that actually define you, right? Your worth as a human is more than what title you wear.” His tone is casual, the words said like we’re talking about the weather, and it all hits me.

Holy shit. He’s right. I’ve been so worried about other people—how they would think of me, what they would say, and if they would judge me—that I stopped myself from even daring to admit the truth. The truth is, I like womenandmen, and I’ve been lusting after my best friend in a big way thatcould be so beautiful if I just came clean about it, so he knows he’s worthy of love, and I want to be the one that gives it to him.

“I’d kiss you if I could. Know I’m sending you a big, sloppy, virtual tongue-in-your-mouth kiss. You just made things feel so much simpler. Thank you,” I say, my voice coarse and gravelly as I fight the emotion rising in my chest.

He chuckles softly. “I may have to take you up on your virtual kisses because the only person I want kissing me right now has his head up his ass and doesn't want to kiss me,” he replies. “Until next time when we have more messy emotions to sort out, baby.”

I feel lighter disconnecting from the app. Now, I have to figure out what this all means in real life, where it’s not as simple.

Twenty

Knox

Ican't believe I’m doing this.

I put the finishing touches on the package—a red bow on the white paper—and shake my head. This is so dumb. I shouldn’t be making grand gestures, but here I am, wrapping a present for Ryder to find when he gets home. I prop the package on the couch facing the front door, where he won't be able to miss it when he gets back from his road trip, and leave for practice.

When I return hours later, I hear music before I even unlock the door. Once I swing it open, the sight that greets me makes my knees weak. Ryder’s ass is in the air as he’sbent fully in half with his head on the floor, his legs spread out to the sides and his hands on his ankles, elbows on his knees. I have the most amazing view of his round ass and the bulge of his cock nestled in the sling of his shorts that are bunched up at his hips to allow for the generous spread of his muscular legs.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I croak, my voice failing me at the view of this magnificent man in such a compromising position.

He opens his eyes and reaches up toward his phone to stop the playlist, but he stays curled in his upside-down position. “Yoga. This is a wide-legged forward fold. It really opens up the hips while stretching my inner thighs and hamstrings.” He walks his hands up his neon green Hydras branded yoga mat and finally rises. He turns his feet to the side, stretches his arms out wide, and bends at the waist over his front leg, touching his front hand to the floor while raising the top arm in the air and twisting his chest forward.

God bless yoga.

I shake my head and close the door because I can’t stand in the doorway gawking at him while he stretches. “Do you do yoga often?” I ask, grateful for a neutral subject that has us kind of talking again after our spectacular blow-up and the lonely silence ever since.

“I do it most days. It’s been good for my flexibility and joints.”

Yeah, no shit.I can see his flexibility isn’t an issue at all as he plants both hands on the mat and moves his feet back, sendinghis hips up and stretching his back as his chest pushes toward the floor. Once again, his ass is in a tempting position. I have to turn and scurry for the kitchen like the horny dog I am before I do something regrettable, like grab that perfect ass and make it mine. But Ryder isn’t mine. He’s not even comfortable with whoheis. I won’t be able to touch him again until he makes up his mind about that; it doesn't feel right.

I noticed the package was missing from the couch, so he must have found it when he came home. I’m dying to know what he thought, but don't want to ask. He might hate it. When I close the refrigerator door after pulling out a water bottle, Ryder is standing right there, making me jump from the unexpected shock.

“Fuck, don't do that.” I gasp, my hand flying to my heart that is galloping in my chest after taking a quick detour around my thoracic cavity, touching my throat and my stomach before making its way back home.

“I found your gift.”

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