Page 14 of Iced Out Mate

He looked at me from the side of his eye. “Throat?”

“Um, no, I was going to say, um…”

“The dick?”

“Yes. Yes, exactly.”

Dylan started to crack up, which in turn made me laugh. “If that were the case then I’d be anxious twenty-four seven.” He looked at me and gave me a wink. “Who doesn’t like being grabbed by the dick?”

My thoughts immediately swirled downward, toward a territory I needed to stay far, far away from.

Control yourself.

“Anyways,” Dylan said. “Sorry I sidetracked you. Back to your situation.”

A bright red cardinal flew in front of us, landing on a thick branch before being spooked away by a squirrel. I shook my head. “Let’s talk about something else. No need to make this such a dark and dreary day.”

“What do you want to talk about?”

With Dylan? I was finding I wanted to talk to him about anything and everything. “Are you ready for the season to start?” I asked.

“Oh, hell yeah. I’ve been itching to get back on the ice and play. I’m determined to get the Calder Cup this year, and I think we can do it. Actually fuck that, I know we can do it. And now that we’ve got a great trainer to keep us fit and functioning, I’m even more confident about it. The humans on the team definitely need you.”

“Only the humans?” I teased.

“Maybe a couple of the shifters, too. Soren’s always shit at stretching. You can help him with that. Keep his mobility up.”

“Soren’s the goalie, right?”

“He is.”

“And what about the left winger?” I asked, knowing damn well that was the position Dylan played.

“I guess I could use a couple good stretches and massages, too.”

“You know I’m not a glorified massage therapist, right?”

His cheeks turned pink at that. “Oh, I know, I’m just joking.”

“But I am also really fucking good at massages.”

“You are?” Dylan arched a suggestive eyebrow, the white streak drawing my attention.

Why the hell did I want to kiss it? How fucking weird would that be?

And hot… it would be pretty fucking hot having my lips anywhere on Dylan’s body. I swallowed and tried to ignore the swell of lust before it dragged me in too deep. “I am,” I said. “Have to have strong hands with what I do.”

“Hmm, going to need some proof of that.” Dylan licked his lips. I wasn’t sure if it was a conscious move or not but he spread his legs wider, his shorts riding up to show off what appeared to be miles of thick thighs dusted in light brown hair. The winds shifted and his scent filled my lungs. Sweet like strawberries, earthy like wet grass, clean like a babbling brook.

Perfection.

Something inside me shifted. Like a caged bird was slamming itself against the bars of its prison, trying to sneak out through my ribcage. It was an odd sensation. Almost like my body was actively fighting something. Was this the kind of nerves people talked about when they met someone they were really into? I’d dated in the past and had a few hookups here and there but never felt that spark people always talked about.

This couldn’t possibly be that, could it?

“Might have to let me know when you’re free then,” I said. I absentmindedly twirled the bracelet around my wrist, trying to focus on anything other than how close Dyl’s leg was to mine and how the sensation of his leg hair brushing against me made my dick twitch. All thoughts of stalkers and iron collars were quickly diminishing.

“Sounds like a plan to me.” Dylan rolled his shoulders back and pushed his arms back. His biceps flexed, shadows forming under the defined muscles. “I’ve been sore as fuck lately.”