Page 52 of Hard Check
Dawson slid his hand under Leo’s jacket, under the thin shirt, and spread his fingers against the bare skin of Leo’s back. Leo arched into him.
Leo’s hand moved lower. Landed on Dawson’s belt. His fingers hooked the leather and Dawson’s hips jerked forward without his permission. Leo made a sound against his mouth that Dawson felt in his spine.
“We should stop,” Dawson said. His voice didn’t sound like his voice.
“Yeah,” Leo said. He didn’t move. His fingers were still on Dawson’s belt.
“Leo.”
“I heard you.” Leo’s forehead dropped against his. His hand was shaking, and Dawson could feel every point where their bodies were pressed together, knee to knee, chest to chest, Leo’s hand still between them. “Give me a second.”
They sat like that, foreheads together. The wind hit them, and Leo shivered. Dawson tugged the edge of the blanket up around Leo’s back without thinking about it, which meant his arm wasaround him and Leo was pressed against his side, and stopping got harder by the second.
Leo eased back. His face was flushed and his hair was wrecked from Dawson’s hands. Dawson had to look away because if he didn’t, he wasn’t going to stop.
“You car’s almost done,” Dawson said. He didn’t know why he said it except that if he didn’t say something, he wouldn’t stop. Leo was shaking from the cold, and Dawson wanted their first time to be somewhere warmer than a rock in October.
Leo blinked. “Yeah?”
“Couple more days. Waiting on one more part.”
“Good.” Leo’s face opened up. “I miss that car.”
“It’s a nice car.”
“It’s a great car. The rental smells like cleaning chemicals and has zero pickup.”
The sun was gone now. The sky over the far shore was fading from orange to a deep bruised blue, and the temperature was dropping fast. Leo was pressed against Dawson’s side and trying not to shiver, which wasn’t working.
“Come on.” Dawson stood and pulled Leo to his feet. “You’re done.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re on the ice six days a week and a fall evening is taking you out.”
“How many times do I have to tell you it’s not the same? The rink is indoors.” Leo’s teeth chattered on the last word, and heclenched his jaw to stop it. “Not to mention we manage to work up a sweat when we’re playing. As long as we’re in our gear, it’s actually warm.”
Dawson shook his head, folded the blanket, and stuffed it behind the front seat. He started the truck and the vents blew cold air. Leo held his hands in front of them anyway, waiting, and didn’t say anything sarcastic about it, which told Dawson more about how cold he actually was than any complaint would have.
They drove back toward town. The sky was fading to deep blue over the tree line, and Leo’s hand landed on his on the bench seat between them. The heater was finally pushing warm air, and Leo had stopped shivering. His thumb was tracing slow circles on the inside of Dawson’s wrist. It was taking every bit of restraint Dawson had to keep his eyes on the road.
Neither of them talked. The cab was dark except for the dashboard glow and the headlights cutting through the trees, and Leo’s thumb kept moving, lazy and deliberate, like he knew exactly what he was doing. Dawson swallowed hard. His pulse was in his throat. Every nerve in his body was focused on that one small point of contact, and the fifteen minutes back to town felt like an hour.
When he pulled into Leo’s lot, he put the truck in park and sat there with the engine running. Leo looked at him.
“Come up,” Leo said. Not a question.
Dawson knew he should put the truck in drive and go home. But Leo was looking at him with that half-smile and his wrecked hair, and Dawson could still feel the way Leo’s fingers had curled around his belt at the lake. The smart decision didn’t stand a chance.
“Yeah,” Dawson said. “Okay.”
Leo’s apartment was warm. Dawson pulled his boots off at the door and shrugged out of his flannel, draping it over the arm of the couch. When he looked up, Leo was standing by the kitchen counter with his phone halfway out of his back pocket, not moving. His eyes were on Dawson’s arms and the Henley stretched across his shoulders, and he wasn’t even trying to hide his appreciation.
“What?” Dawson said.
Leo blinked and then pulled his phone the rest of the way out. “Nothing. Pizza?” He was already scrolling.
“Sure.”
