Page 44 of Edging Coach
He broke the staring contest first, shifting his weight and gazing at the concrete wall. “It’s a lot,” he admitted. “I, uh… I can’t imagine trying to understand that while I was in the middle of, um… Of this.”
I wanted to tell him there was no “this” anymore. We’d agreed to cool it. As much as I’d envisioned pulling him into this stairwell, pressing him up against the wall, and kissing him until we were both whimpering messes, I hadn’t. I couldn’t. My fingertips itched with the absence of his body heat. My lips tingled with the need to touch his. I couldn’t even be in the same room with him and not feel some stirring below my belt.
Fucking hell. The man I’d married had never even had me this tangled up and stupid.
Then again, no one had been telling me I couldn’t have Brad. There’d been the very strong possibility of professional fallout when I came out, when we came out as a couple, and when we’d married, but no one and nothing had been keeping us apart.
I couldn’t have Devon. And maybe it was wishful thinking, but I got the impression he was frustrated by the situation too. Whether it was because he wanted me specifically or because I scratched his itch to dominate someone, I didn’t know, but his undercurrent of frustration was as hard to ignore as my own.
I huffed out a harsh breath. “I don’t know why this is fucking with my head so much. I’ve gone all this time without ever knowing I wanted something like this, and now that I’ve had a taste of it…” I laughed, the sound coming out high-pitched. “God, I sound like an addict.”
“You’re not an addict,” Devon said. “It’s… I’d say it’s a little more like going along with an injury for a while, then finding something that relieves the pain. Of course you’re going to want more.”
“It’s not pain, though,” I argued. “It’s not—I mean, it’s not like an injury. Just… something I didn’t know I needed.”
He shrugged as if to say,“Isn’t that kind of the same thing?”
Maybe it was. Maybe it wasn’t.
We were quiet for a long moment. I had no idea what to say. Even less of an idea what to say that wouldn’t get us both into a world of trouble. Or fuck up our dynamic in the locker room; our team was counting on both of us to have our heads together. They were counting on me to be objective and fair, and no matter how hard I’d try to keep things that way, having this kind of connection with a player made that nearly impossible.
“Jack,” Devon said after a while. “I don’t think I’m the problem.”
“So it’s me?”
“No, that’s—” He shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. I mean what you need—it’s notme.”
I watched him silently, eyebrows up.
He took a deep breath. “I think you’ve been wanting this for a while. You just didn’t know what it meant or what exactly you needed. Not until you got it.” He offered a sympathetic shrug. “That happens.”
Fuck. It was like he saw right through me. Like he could read my damn mind.
Or… maybe this wasn’t such an uncommon thing. Maybe he’d seen this in other people, so it wasn’t as jarring for him as it was for me. That gave me a little hope. Like maybe I could untangle the mess in my head and find what I needed. Ideally without torpedoing anyone’s career.
He went on, “What I’m getting at is that I think you keep gravitating toward me because I’m the only one who’s given that to you. But you don’t need me—you need a Dom.”
I had to literally bite my tongue to keep from saying,“I want you as a Dom.”It was true. I meant it to my bones. But I couldn’t have him as anything other than a player on the hockey team I coached.
Voice gentle, he said, “I’m not the only Dom you’ll ever meet. Just the first. We’ll be back in Abbotsford in a few days, and you won’t be far from the kink scene in Vancouver or even Seattle. Put yourself out there, and you’ll find…” He hesitated, and he didn’t look at me as he said flatly, “You’ll find a Dom who gives you what you need and won’t put your career on the line.”
The words“I don’twantanother Dom”dangled precariously on the tip of my tongue. They sounded desperate and stupid. Probably because theyweredesperate and stupid. Probably becauseIwas desperate and stupid.
Then I rewound what he’d said. Or rather, how he’d said it. As if the suggestion of me finding another Dom didn’t sit right with him somehow.
“You don’t sound like you like the idea,” I said.
Devon’s jaw worked and he still didn’t look at me. Then he started pacing the small landing, his sneakers tapping quietly on the concrete. “What do you want me to say? That I don’t want you to submit to me?”
My heart slammed into my ribs. “I think that would be about as true as me saying I don’t want you to dominate me.”
He stopped pacing, closed his eyes, and pushed out a breath through his nose.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “That’s… not helpful, I know.”
He acknowledged that with a quiet grunt. “I don’t like it. I won’t pretend I do.” He turned to face me, a million unspoken emotions in his eyes. “But it’s the best thing. You know it is.”
Nodding, I leaned against the cold wall, and I dropped my gaze to the concrete between our feet. “It is. I know. It’s…” I exhaled and threw up my hand. “I don’t even know where to start. What to look for. I…” I made myself meet his gaze again, and I sounded fucking small and pathetic as I asked, “Can’t this kind of shit get dangerous?”
