Off Ice.

Chapter Three.

Theo and I are two piles of panting, sweaty bodies in his apartment, neither of us able to say a damn word after we've finished.

I can see him turn his head to look at me, his hair damp and hanging in front of his face as he does. He's scanning the side of my face as I stare at the ceiling, still trying to catch my breath.

We got here about two hours ago after the art exhibit and he was getting pretty handsy towards the end of the night. I didn't mind at all though, obviously. He looked so good tonight and the art exhibit dedicated to me just sealed the deal.

The sex is something that never goes stale with us, let me just say.

I've learned that I like some things that I didn't know I did since being with him. I'm a pretty sexual person and I'm not really afraid to admit it anymore. He's a bit rougher with me and I enjoy it more than I thought I would.

Granted, it's not like safe word kinda rough. I know that if I'm uncomfortable I can tell him and he'll stop right away, but I've never had too before.

I guess it makes sense that our sex life is so good considering that's how this whole thing started.

He's still looking at me so I turn my head and meet his gaze, smiling at how cute he somehow looks. His cheeks are tinted pink, not as red as Finn's would be but they're definitely flushed. His lips are swollen and his chest is rising and falling as he catches his breath.

My eyes trail to his tattoos again and I roll on my side, tracing my finger over the snake that rounds his shoulder.

"You know how to give me a workout," he says after a few moments, which makes me laugh lightly. "Never going to get tired of seeing you like this."

His hand comes to my bare arm and runs down my skin, his eyes traveling to my chest as he does.

"I know we were drunk the first time, but I remember how fucking stunned I was by this body." He drags his finger from my shoulder to the crevice between my breasts and the sight of the inked skin against mine is intoxicating. If he wants to go for a round three, he's gotta give me a few more minutes. "I felt lucky then, but I'm even luckier now."

I wish I believed you.

I lean forward and press my lips to his gently, trying to thank him in a way I know how too. I'm really grateful for him, that he's made me comfortable enough to fall in love again.

We settle in after that, my head resting on his arm as he lays on his back, his hand running up and down my back. There's a peaceful silence around us, neither of us really needing so say anything. I feel more at ease, but my head still feels loud. It still feels cluttered but instead of thousands of indecipherable thoughts it's just white noise. I'll take that over the alternative, though.

We lay there for about an hour then, my head on his chest and my finger still tracing the ink on his skin. He suddenly says then, "Can I ask you something?"

I hate it when he starts with that.

"Of course," I say, but I'm silently praying it's nothing deep. I just want to stay cuddled in him and fall asleep. I don't want to talk.

"Can you show me what your ex boyfriend looked like?"

Excuse me?

Why- Why would he want that?

Fuck.

I don't want to show him Finn because I know he knows who he is. He's a fan of his fucking hockey team. I don't want to have a conversation about this, about him.