Page 69 of Cold as Ice

It was so much more personal than that.

It was Mal himself. Elliott was beginning to believehewas the prize.

Ramsey cackled. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m fucking right about everything.”

“Sure,” Elliott retorted.

“Well, are you coming or not?”

Elliott nodded. Maybe if he walked in with Ramsey distracting him, he wouldn’t look over at Mal and give the whole game away.

He hadn’t minded that Mal had wanted to keep this between them. He wasn’t even sure whatthiswas, anyway. The problem with that hadn’t occurred to him until ten minutes ago, when he’d realized the first time he saw Mal, everything he’d thought about all fucking day was going to show, plainly, on his face.

Not just on his face, but on the ice, too.

“You didn’t stop by the house yesterday,” Ramsey observed as they walked down the corridor towards the locker room.

Elliott shrugged. “Mal wanted to do another tutoring session. I’m not gonna argue with him. The guy is gonna single-handedly make sure I don’t fail stats.”

“You didn’t even want to swing by after?” Ramsey was looking at him closely now—while pretending he wasn’t. Elliott had begun to learn some of Ramsey’s tricks. Not all of them, but enough to recognize when he was working an angle.

“I was tired.” Elliott knew he was a shitty liar. “Mal wore me out.”True in all versions.

“Ah.” There seemed to be a wealth of meaning in that single word, but as Elliott pushed the door to the locker room open, Ramsey didn’t say anything else.

And there was Malcolm.

His bare back was to Elliott, that big, broad gorgeous back. He’d touched it all over yesterday. Felt how strong it was. Had discovered how vulnerable Mal was, really.

Then he turned, and Elliott was very proud that he didn’t stumble, not once, when their gazes met.

Mal’s poker face was brilliant, but then that didn’t surprise Elliott particularly. He was beginning to realize just how much of a front Mal showed to the world. And how good he was at getting behind it.

Elliott walked over to his locker and began the long process that he always did before every single game.

Brody wasn’t here yet, so there was no obstacle to looking his fill of Mal.

“Hey,” Elliott said. Was proud of how steady his voice seemed.

“Cutting it close again?” Mal shot him a look, quick and efficient, but ultimately revealing, as Elliott pulled off his jacket, then his shirt.

“You’re not on Ivan’s ass, and he’s not even here yet,” Elliott grumbled.This is good. Bicker the way you normally do.

“You don’t know that Iwon’tbe,” Mal said self-righteously. Yeah, he’d probably already texted Ivan. Like the overprotective big brother that he was.

How had that energy somehow become really, incredibly hot?

Elliott didn’t know. He prayed he’d stay soft and pushed down his pants.

“Had a big win yesterday,” Ramsey announced to the locker room at large. “Rented out the arcade tonight.”

“First, it’s a school night,” Mal said. “And second off—”

“Don’t say I shouldn’t be gambling,” Ramsey teased Mal.

“You know you shouldn’t be.” Mal was so righteous. He practically burned with it. And so did Elliott, for a host of other, far less upstanding, reasons.

“Well, then you’re not invited,” Ramsey joked, but then his expression softened and he slung an arm around Mal’s shoulders. “Come on, McCoy. It’ll be fun.”

---