Page 14 of On the Brink of Passion

So before he can knock on the door and do something considerate like ask if I’m okay, I finish up and walk out completely naked. Luckily I don’t have to face him as I slide the drawers of the dresser open and pull out my very favorite set of pajamas: white flannel with turquoise and purple mermaids on them. The best part is that the mermaids’ hair is sparkly. Not with glued on glitter or some other substance that likely would’ve come out in the wash at some point during the roughly thousand times I’ve washed them either. No, there’s sparkly thread woven into it, and every time I put them on, they make me happy. I need all the happy comfort I can get right about now. At least I won’t have to furtively rub one out while hoping Beckett’s asleep like I did last time.

I complain about his snoring, but really he doesn’t do it all night. I kind of wished he would, because I’m only 75% certain he didn’t hear me the other day. As things are, I curl up under my own sheets, facing away from him, trying to slow my racing mind so I can sleep. It’s utterly ridiculous that I find myself wishing I was back in Beckett’s bed because maybe it would be easier to fall asleep with his arms around me. It’s easier to fall with him catching me everywhere else.

Chapter Seven

Beckett

Yesterday was the Opening Ceremony, aka the Meat Market. It’s not as fun when you already know who you’re going to be fucking for the next couple of weeks, and it’s way less fun when that person is someone who doesn’t want to have sex with you. At all. Wow should I have not made that deal with the she-devil. I mean, between those Italian slalom skiers, the South Korean speed skaters, and the Swiss lugers? Jesus, I could be having a fantastic couple of weeks.

Instead, every couple of days of the two weeks we’ve been here already, Jubilee and I have had very awkward sex. It’s not bad, per se, but it’s demoralizing nonetheless. I kind of get the feeling that if she’d let me in, we could make it really good. That maybe she wants to, but she won’t. I’ve caught her a few times, tiny sounds or small movements that make me think she has more feelings about this than she’s letting on, but never once has she asked me for anything, not a single time has she asked that I touch her. So I don’t.

In some ways, it’s frustrating. I could be having some crazy bendy monkey sex with someone who actually wants me, who would allow me to give them pleasure and not in the grudging way the Ice Princess permits. But in some ways it’s almost . . . nice? No, “nice” isn’t the word. It’s maddening as hell. Like banging my head up against a brick wall that shows the barest hints of wanting to come down but won’t actually crack. But maybe, if I just keep at it . . .

Also, while living with Jubilee, I’ve learned some things about her. She’s a stickler for her dental hygiene (not a surprise), she has a regimented schedule that she follows to the minute and it exhausts her to keep her shit together when a day doesn’t go as planned (the scheduling not a surprise, but the effect it going awry has on her is a bit), and last but definitely not least, my Ice Princess wears soft cutesy pajamas to bed and has literal bunny slippers. Those things, I did not see coming. Makes her seem like more of a person, less of a machine, and boy must she hate that. But curiously, not enough to hide them. Nope, she very studiously pulls on the flannel pants and sometimes a matching button-up shirt or coordinating tee, and looks like she’s strapping on armor instead of putting on Beauty and the Beast pajamas, or god help me, once a set of Care Bear footie pajamas. I almost died.

I’ve also seen exactly how little she interacts with the other athletes. I don’t talk to them a ton myself, but she seems to actively avoid them. Sabrina and Todd I don’t blame her for because they give us the stink eye whenever we cross paths in the arena or at team meetings, and there was that whole episode at the gym I’d rather not repeat, but the rest of Team USA and a lot of the international teams are pretty cool.

Which is why I’m trying to pry her out of our suite tonight. To try to make her enjoy some of the perks of being a SIG athlete instead of just being the get-off-my-lawn crank who gets mad even when, honestly, there’s no more noise than your average hotel, and far less than a college dorm. She needs to loosen up, maybe have some fun. And since she’s helped me, I’ll do my best to help her. Whether she likes it or not.

“Come on, Jubilee. Juju? Does anyone ever call you Juju?”

She shoots me a dark look from across the suite where she’s sitting on the floor doing stretches. Like she hasn’t already spent hours stretching today. “Not if they want to live.”

“What about Julie?” Jubilee is a mouthful, though I guess I should just be grateful she doesn’t insist on going by Jubilation Lee. Were her parents so very convinced they were going to have a pageant queen on their hands? Jubilee’s a lot of things, but pageant queen isn’t one of them. I mean, technically she was born in Texas, but she moved up to Boston to be with her skating coach, and she seems to fit in way better with those frosty New Englanders than I can imagine she’d do as the perfect Southern belle.

She tilts her head in a way that somehow indicates her complete and utter willingness to murder me. I don’t know how she does that—maybe it’s a talent gleaned from skating. After all, we have to at least make the audience believe we’re feeling something even though we’re gliding past them in a blink. No on the Julie, then.

“What do you want, Beckett?”

“I want to go out. Have fun.” She blinks at me like this is crazy talk. It’s not, which is why I start gesturing with my hands. “You know, be young, fit, attractive. I want to go to a goddamn bar and have women flirt with me, and I want to have a couple of beers.”

With that look she used the first time we met, like she wasn’t sure I was fit to be stuck to the sole of her shoe, she sizes me up. “You’re going to drink?”

“Christ, yes. I’m going to have a couple of drinks, okay? They’ll be long gone from my system by tomorrow, never mind by the time we’re competing. Scout’s honor.”

Her expression is, if anything, more dubious.

“Well, I don’t like it, but I can’t stop you. Be quiet when you come back so you don’t wake me up.”

With that pronouncement, she folds fully over her extended leg, touching her nose easily to her knee, and wrapping her slim, elegant fingers around the arch of her foot. It’s lovely and gives me some ideas I shouldn’t be having about what kind of sex we could be having if she actually, you know,wantedto be having sex with me instead of lying there in her missionary, disengaged, think-of-the-Gold position.

“Why don’t you come with me?”You could use a drink or eight to loosen up.

“No, thank you,” comes the muffled reply.

“Please? It’ll be fun, and then you won’t have to worry about me waking you up when I get back. Also, you could make sure I keep on the straight and narrow with my two beers instead of getting shitfaced and bringing home some girl.”

Jubilee straightens up, gives me another death glare before she leans over her opposite leg. “If you’re concerned about your ability to behave responsibly, then perhaps you shouldn’t go. You’re a grown man. I shouldn’t have to tag after you like your governess to make sure you don’t do anything inadvisable.”

It’s possible the kinky side of me gets a little aroused by the idea of Jubilee masquerading as a strict governess and rapping my knuckles with a ruler whenever I mess up, but that’s neither here nor there. Nope, not here nor there, just really in my pants.

Whatever. Clearly this line of coaxing and gentle persuasion isn’t going to work. She doesn’t seem to be going for the save-me-from-myself thing either. That was always useful with my ex, Felicia, who seemed pretty convinced that given the chance I’d get down and dirty with some guy. Which got old pretty fast. I mean, yes, I’m a figure skater, but I happen to be a straight figure skater. Even if I were bi, I’m pretty well built for fidelity. Liking men and women has nothing to do with whether you’re inclined to be unfaithful. I should’ve dropped her the first time she brought that up, but people don’t always make good decisions, and I stayed with her until I just couldn’t take her criticisms and insinuations anymore.

Jubilee on the other hand has never questioned my sexuality, which is probably because she doesn’t give a shit, but at least she didn’t act surprised when I said I liked women. But if those things are not going to get her to come out and have a little fun, what will?

That’s when it comes to me, because while I’m not the smartest guy, I do sometimes hit the nail on the head. Also, it’s worked before. You want Jubilee to do something? Tell her she can’t, put her pride on the line.

“Cool, then. I’ll go out and have some fun. If you’re worried that you can’t even handle a couple of hours at a bar because it will ‘affect your performance,’ I get that. You’re probably right.”

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