Page 140 of Breaking Away

The towel slides along my inner thigh and rests against my groin. I suck in a ragged breath.

“Do you usually keep your shorts on?”

“No.” My voice is thread-bare. I wasn’t shivering in the ice-bath, but I’m fucking shivering now.

The towel drops. Her arms stretch until her fingers reach the waistband of my shorts. I’m large. There’s a lot of space I take up with my sprawling, densely muscled body. But Kavi is quick andthe nerves around my scar scream at me. I’m not playing defense right now.

All I can do is help her take my shorts off.

When I’m naked, I lecture my cock.Don’t you fucking dare get hard.

My cock doesn’t listen. Kavi is here. That’s all that matters.

Before she can see it rise to full mast, I snatch the towel and wrap it around my waist, bunching it in the front.

“Now what?” Kavi asks, breathless. “What’s next?”

“You don’t have to.”

“Don’t,” she warns. “I’m not in the mood to argue.”

A chuckle rolls out of me.

Her hands go on her hips. “What’s next, Dmitri?”

I point where the ointment and bandages are. The next few minutes aren’t real. They can’t be. So many nights I’ve done this alone, sometimes easily, sometimes crawling to finish. Even when my dad was training me to recover, he didn’t tend to my pain afterward. Kavi’s fingers barely brush against the swelling, as if she’s so scared of making it worse. In the lightest of strokes, she covers the injury with ointment. Bandages are rolled on at a snail’s pace. For some reason, I don’t rush her. I don’t want it to end.

The pain is there, unforgivably there, but she’s touching me as if I matter.Fuck, my throat clogs.

I confess into silence. “I don’t know what happens after it gets worse. I’m afraid I’ll turn into my dad if I lose hockey.”

Her head snaps up. Our eyes clash, and I watch her features rearrange. She mouthsahas if understanding.

“When I bailed him out of jail,” I tell her. “I told him I wouldn’t turn into him.”

“What did he say?”

My jaw flexes. “He thinks I will.”

Her hand reaches for mine. She squeezes it. “You won’t.”

“Maybe. But if I don’t win the Cup, he’ll be disappointed. More than that.Devastated.”

“Shit.” Her cheeks flush with emotion. “What a terrible burden to put on your kid.”

My lower half is shrieking, but I’ve easily got enough upper body strength to lift Kavi until she sits on the bench beside me.

She doesn’t belong on her knees.

“It’s a burden,” I agree. “So is telling your kid they aren’t good enough or that they won’t be successful, right?”

That surprises a faint laugh out of her. “Look at us. Two members of the bad dad club. Though mine never pressured me into any sort of grueling training.”

“No.” I lightly bump my shoulder against hers. “He bruised your heart.” My tone is whisper-soft, even though I’m furiously serious. “I won’t say more words about him for your sake, even if I have a lot to say.”

“I also have a lot to say about your dad, but I won’t. Unless you want to talk about it?”

I don’t. We head to bed, Kavi insisting on supporting me there. There’s an argument about whether I need to get my knee checked out by a doctor right now, but I don’t let her call one. What I need is to sleep it off like I’ve always done.

---