Page 12 of On Ice

I move back to the gurgling coffee maker. I lean against the counter, trying to ignore how domestic this feels. I haven’t done a “morning after” with a guy in ages. I’m always gone by the time they wake up, and I never take them back to my place. Yet here I stand, making coffee for a guy I have to crush in a few minutes.

I glance at my watch, feeling antsy. I should probably wake Evan, but still I hesitate. My father would be disappointed in me right now. If he were in this situation he’d have woken Evan up immediately to tell him the bad news. He’d always lectured me about keeping a tight rein on my emotions. It had been his view that the moment you felt something for someone, who wasn’t your blood, you were weak. Vulnerable. I didn’t disagree with him, especially as the head of a crime family. But it was a lonely way to live. Marco was really the only non-blood related person I was close to, and Father had never liked our friendship.

There’s movement out of the corner of my eye and Evan enters the kitchen. He’s wearing jeans but no shirt, and his hair is messy. “I thought you left,” he says, giving me a tentative smile.

“Nope. Not yet.” My voice is gravelly because I’m struggling with the desire to hug him and give him a good morning kiss. Any second now he’s going to hate my guts, and for whatever reason that bothers me.

“Do I smell coffee?” He moves closer, gives me a little peck on the mouth, but doesn’t linger, instead moving away toward the coffee maker.

The tiny kiss makes me hunger for more, but I stamp that need down. “Yeah, I made coffee.”

He leans toward me, a flirty smile on his lips. “You’re the best, boss.”

I inhale his clean scent and, again, I have to resist the urge to slip my arm around his narrow waist and tug him against me. I’d love to taste his luscious mouth one more time, but that’s a bad idea.

“It smells better than usual. All I have is cheap coffee. You must have the magic touch with coffee beans.” He smirks.

“Probably. I have the magic touch with a lot of things.”

He laughs. “Is that so?”

“You know I do.” I’m getting carried away flirting with him. That isn’t the right way to handle this moment. I need distance from him. So far, he seems to understand that last night was a one-off. Nothing more. That’s exactly as it should be. If he’d come into the kitchen acting all lovey-dovey and clingy that would just make what I need to do that much harder.

“You’ll get no argument from me.” He smiles and goes to the cupboard, taking out two mugs. One has the Ice Hawks logo, worn from years of use. The other says ‘World’s Okayest Brother’. He sets them next to the coffeemaker, then goes to the fridge to get cream.

It’s hard not to run my gaze hungrily over his half naked body. His chest and shoulders are all tanned and sinewy muscle.I’d love to bend him over the sink and have one final go at his perfect ass. Would he like that? Would he beg for more?

Stop it. God. This is not helping.

Feeling flushed and jittery, I clear my throat. “Aren’t you curious about why I’m still here?”

He wrinkles his brow. “Is it that big of a deal that you are?”

His response throws me for a second, but I gather myself. “Normally I’d have left already. Before you woke up.”

“I see.” He bites his bottom lip, probably without realizing how damn sexy it makes him look.

Focus, dumbass.

“I’m still here because we need to talk.” My voice comes out harsher than intended and he visibly flinches.

He sighs. “Luca, I already told you it’s cool. I’m not going to say a word about what happened. We’re both consenting adults, and it’s nobody’s business but ours. Okay?”

As cold as I’m trying to be, I can’t escape the twinge of guilt I feel at his attempt to comfort me. He thinks I’m worried about sleeping together. He’s concerned for me, and I’m only focused on setting him straight about how little he matters. “That’s not what I wanted to talk about,” I force myself to say.

He pours coffee into both of our mugs. “Okay, well, what do you need to talk about?” He glances up. “Cream?”

I blink at him and then realize he’s asking how I take my coffee. “Uh, no. Black is fine.”

He hands me the mug with the team logo on it, and cradles his between his hands. He watches me apprehensively, waiting for me to speak.

“I bought the team to make money.” I sound stilted. I thought ahead about what I wanted to say to him, but the words are all jumbled up in my head now.

“Okay.” He nods. “I assumed that was why you bought the team. Nobody spends that much money unless they want to make it back and then some.”

“Right. That’s exactly it. I plan on using the Ice Hawks to make a shit-load of money.” I sip my coffee, still struggling to find the words I need. Why is this so fucking hard? Why am I dreading the look I know is coming? Why do I care if he’s mad at me once he knows the truth?

I don’t care. Not really. I just would have liked to fuck him again.

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