Page 62 of Sin Bin

At his confident tone, I shake my head. “You don’tknowthat.”

“I know it well enough.” His hand leaves my neck to tug at my purse’s shoulder strap. “I’m going to need you to put this somewhere. Preferably behind the frontcounter.”

My nosescrunches. “Why?”

“It’s asurprise.”

“I don’t dosurprises.”

“Sure you do.” His big body corrals me backward, until my feet are moving on their own accord to the front counter. Andre lifts my purse and gives it to the kid behind the desk. “Give me a pair of skates for her, would you? Size . . . ” He glances down at me with an arched brow. “What size do you thinkyouare?”

Oh, no. No, no, no. “I’m not skating,” I say hastily. “Youknowthat I don’tskate.”

His mouth curls into a sexy grin. “Just as Iknowthat we’ve been talking about getting you into a pair for two years now. C’mon, Zo,” he murmurs silkily, “don’t let medownnow.”

My heart pounds in my chest. “Today is for the kids,” I squeak outpathetically.

That sexy grin of his grows wider. “And it’s also for you. You’ve never let me see you on the icebefore.”

“That’s because I spend most of the time onmybutt.”

I see the devilry in his eyes just before he murmurs, “There are a lot of ways to make you feel betterafter.”

He’s a walking hazard, that’s for sure. I eye a pair of black hockey skates, dreading the words that I know are about to trip off my tongue. “What if Isayyes?”

“To putting on a pair of skates and getting outthere?”

“Yes.”

He steps close, so close that I can catch his delicious scent. “I won’t letyoufall.”

My breath hitches. “That’sgood.”

“I promise it’ll be betterthangood.”

And with that promise, he brushes his fingers against my lower back and steps away, leaving me wanting yetagain.

ChapterEighteen

ANDRE

It’ssafe to say that Zoe sucks ontheice.

It’s also safe to say that I haven’t had this much fun in alongtime.

“You gotta—” I break off at the sight of her legs wobbling like a newborn fawn’s. Pushing off my heels, I skate toward her, wrapping an arm around her slim waist just before she would have gone down. “Zo,” I say, glancing down at her beautiful face, “you can do betterthanthis.”

Her hands push at my chest. “I told you,” she grumbles miserably, “I suck at skating. Just let me stay on solid ground and I’llbeokay.”

“Wearestanding onsolidground.”

“It’s frozenwater.”

“Which is solid, otherwise we’d be swimming up to ourcalves.”

Her mouth purses, but I can tellshe’s holding in a smile. “Stop being soliteral.”

“Stop being such a worrywart.” Squeezing her once, I set her free and retreat from her tempting-as-hell body. “You need to stop thinking that you’re going to land onyourass.”

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