Rhys
"I like your ass."
That was not what I had expected him to say. Hearing him say it with a serious look and a flat tone made me falter, and I almost lost my balance on the ice.
My stomach did a weird somersault that had nothing to do with the skating. I couldn't believe what I had just heard. "What?"
"You heard me," he continued, his expression stone-cold serious even as a wicked flash of mischief danced in his obsidian eyes. "I mean, your personality is a solid seven, and you're a decent captain, I guess. But that ass? Rhys, have you looked in the mirror?" He asked, and before I could respond, he spoke up again.
"That frog position we do every time is my favorite part of practice because I get to see your ass. It's a masterpiece, Rhys. A national treasure."
I stared at him for a heartbeat, my jaw actually dropping as I listened to him talk about my ass as if he were giving a long, educational speech.
