Page 87 of On Thin Ice

“Ooooh,isthat Jacob?” Ramsey said, craning his neck so he could read the screen. Finn tilted it towards himself so Ramsey couldn’t.

“Yeah,” Finn said.

You wanna come over tonight? We could work.

Finn grinned.

On what?How good you fuck me into the mattress?

He could practically see the flush rising up Jacob’s newly bare cheeks and also the incredulous look he shot the phone.No,Jacob sent back.Hockey. You know that game you play that you’d like to get better at.

Thought I already was,Finn texted back.

You’re fucking amazing, but there’s no reason you can’t be even better, Jacob replied.

“See,” Ramsey inserted. “I actually don’t think wedoneed to consult, ’cause the way you’re gazing at that phone—like maybe Jacob’s dickdoeshold all the mysteries of the universe . . .”

“Don’t,” Finn warned, but he was smiling, still.

Couldn’t stop, in fact.

And maybe that answered everything for him, already.

“Good” Jacob said as Finn batted the last puck away from the net. He’d not let a single shot through, and his curls were damp with sweat. “Now, again.”

Finn laughed breathlessly as he leaned down and grabbed his water bottle. “You’re kind of an asshole, you know?”

“You thought I was gonna take it easy on you now?” Jacob asked the question even though he knew Finn wouldn’t have ever believed that. In fact, he probably knew the truth: Jacob was more motivated than ever to give Finn the best chance at success.

“No,” Finn said, still laughing as he straightened and skated over to where Jacob was gathering the pucks back into the machine for his second attempt. He put a hand on Jacob’s shoulder and leaned in.

“There you go,” Jacob said, leaning back. It was just a simple touch, but it felt like everything.

Other than their brief kiss hello—which Jacob had lectured himself ahead of timewouldbe brief no matter how much he wanted to kiss Finn andkeepkissing him—they’d mostly kept things professional.

Mostly.

If his hand had slipped down to Finn’s lower back and then even lower still as he’d been guiding him through a particular stretch, he was only human. Finn’s ass in those thin graysweatpants was a work of fucking art. And it wasn’t like Finn had exactly been disappointed. He’d shot him a knowing look that promised that he’d be happy to return the favor later.

“I think I deserve a rest—”

“Do you?” Jacob questioned innocently.

“And,” Finn continued, batting his eyes at Jacob, “I think that you should show me how it’s done.”

“You think so, huh?”

“If your hip can handle it anyway.” Finn’s voice went serious and Jacob knew that he hadn’t brought up his bum hip as a way to prod him into doing it.

“My hip’s fine.” It was. He’d made sure to stretch it out this morning. Carefully. Deliberately. It hadn’t hurt at all the night before even though he had been using itveryenthusiastically, but it never hurt to be careful.

“Well, if it isn’t bothering you then, yes, youshouldshow me exactly how it’s done.”

Jacob finished loading the pucks back in. “Alright,” he said. “If you think it’ll help your motivation.” He walked over to the bench and toed his sneakers off, leaning over to lace up his in-line skates.

“Not really my motivation,” Finn said, then hesitated.

“No?”

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