Page 38 of Cold as Ice

“That sounds . . .”

Elliott grinned. “Like you’d hate it?”

Malcolm actually laughed, and Elliott was reminded, sharply, of why he’d wanted him the first time he’d ever seen him.

Reminded of when he’d looked in Mal’s face and felt something inside of him that he’d never felt, before or since.

“Yeah,” Mal mumbled.

Elliott opened his book back up and used it to hide his own smile.

Forty-five minutes later, Elliott looked up from Cathy and Heathcliff’s epic bullshit to see Malcolm packing up his stuff.

“I gotta take off,” Mal said.

“Alright.” Elliott stretched, and on a whim, decided to go too. Yes, it was almost definitely drizzling and cold and hecouldstay here for another few hours, but he realized he didn’t want to. Especially not if it meant he could spend another minute or two in Malcolm’s company.

He tucked his book into his bag and slid out of the booth, following Mal as he headed towards the door.

“You’re coming too?” Mal looked surprised.

“Might as well. Can read in my bed just as well as I can read here. It’s warmer there, too.”

Mal pushed open the door. Muttered, under his breath, “Thought you’d have other things to do in bed.”

Elliott could believe all of Mal’s affronted outrage at the guys he slept with. What hecouldn’tbelieve was the undeniable thread of bitter envy in his tone.

He’dtried. Okay. Admittedly, only the once, seriously, but still.

“Believe me,” Elliott said slowly, “the only thing that’s sharing my bed tonight isWuthering Heights.”

“Not that I care,” Mal said quickly.

But it was clear that hemight.

Elliott didn’t know what to do—but with Ramsey’s advice echoing in his head, he knew the one thing hecouldn’tdo.

Be an asshole. Rub Mal’s face in it. Be a dick, generally or specifically.

“’Course not,” Elliott said mildly. “Hey, thanks for the tutoring.”

“When’s your next class?” Malcolm said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoody.

“Tomorrow.”

“Let me know at practice how it goes, okay?”

Elliott nodded. Took a chance. “Hey, I really appreciate it, again.” And then before he could even brace himself for rejection, wrapped his arms around Mal, pulling him into a quick, tight hug.

He hugged his other teammates all the time. But not Malcolm.

Malcolm froze. And for a second—the longest second in eternity—Elliott just enjoyed the feel of Mal’s big, warm, firm body pressed against his own.

Tried, but not very hard, not to think about how it would feel without any clothing between them.

Mal’s arms didn’t return the hug but he also didn’t shove Elliott, which he would one hundred percent take as a win.

Take the win, Ramsey’s voice echoed in his head, and Elliott let go.

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