Page 3 of Cold as Ice

“I said it—”

But Malcolm didn’t even let him get the sentence out again. His eyebrows drew together—two dark slashes against his olive-toned skin, as he continued with, “I don’t make the line assignments. That’s Coach Nichols.”

“Well,yeah.” Elliott dredged upthatsmile again, hoping that he might see a repeat of that look on Malcolm’s face. The onethat said,I just fucking won the lottery. “That’s not why I came over here.”

“Are you sure?”

Why did Malcolm look so confused? Didn’t men—andwomen—cross rooms to talk to him all the fucking time? Surely Elliott was not the only person on earth who looked at this guy and wanted him in their bed?

Elliott had expected to have to wade through a whole bunch of interested people. But no, Malcolm had been standing here, on his own. Alone.

“Like I said. You’re super, crazy hot. Like . . .melting my clothes right off my body hot. And I’m not so bad myself so . . .”

Malcolm didn’t say anything. Just stared.

Elliott realized, belatedly, that he’d seemed fine with his whole situation before Elliott had chosen to cross the room to talk to him. Comfortable, even. Eyes steady, not darting around, looking at who was looking athim.

He’dlikedbeing alone.

Well.

Elliott could still change that.

“Like I said, I’m not so bad myself, and I’m feeling a little lonely. New school and all . . .”

He took a risk and sidled closer, angling his body towards Malcolm, heart rate accelerating at his nearness. He was maybe an inch or two taller, but his shoulders were broader and he was thick with muscle. Elliott’s stomach clenched.

He’d won and bedded tons of hot guys. Hot wasn’t necessarily the thing Elliott wanted.

It was Malcolm’s brand of hot. The guy had buried himself inside Elliott until he felt like he was going to go crazy if he couldn’t have him.

How many times during the last eight months had he touched his cock and Malcolm’s face had sprung, uninvited, into his head?

Every single goddamn time.

“I’m sure you’re gonna be just fine,” Malcolm said dismissively.

“I’m . . .” Well, he was not fine. Not really at all. “I’m not fine, actually.” Elliott laughed self-deprecatingly. “I don’t usually have this problem.”

“What problem?” Malcolm asked.Demanded.

“How about this, let’s go grab a drink,” Elliott said. “Start over. You need more of a warmup, I get that now. I’m alright with that. I like flirting and it’s not so hard when you look like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like . . .” Elliott rolled his eyes. “You know what you look like.”

Those brows drew together. “No.”

Jesus. Okay. Elliott sighed. “Let’s go get that drink.” He’d already had two shots of tequila and a lukewarm red Solo cup of beer, but he wasn’t nearly drunk enough to be dealing with this.

“I don’t drink.”

Elliott supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised. The guy didn’t know he was hot, and didn’t drink and was apparently perfectly content standing on the outskirts of the party, not actually participating in it.

“Uh, okay, so I’m sure they have something . . .” But Elliott stopped in his tracks, because he realized something else.

Malcolm looked surprised again.

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