Page 20 of Lawson

Lawson smirks down at me. “Do I look like boyfriend material, damsel? The only long-term relationship I'm looking for is with Miss NHL. Or perhaps mistress Stanley Cup.”

I laugh, smiling up at him. With his attitude, this could actually work. And this time next month, I could be free of worrying about Brian popping up everywhere I go, and I'd quite possibly have made a new friend in the process.

Win-win.

“Okay,” I finally say. “You help me with my thing, and I'll give you private lessons.”

“It's a deal,” he says, finally dropping his hand from my chin and reaching between us to take mine in his. He shakes it, but it lasts and lasts, neither one of us breaking the contact or the stare we have happening.

Again, the moment charges with electricity, my heart and body begging me to reach out and take what it so desperately needs. And I meandesperate. I didn't realize how starved I was for the kind of physical intimacy Lawson showed me that night until I felt it. Now it’s practically all I can think about. If I can just get another kiss, maybe I'll be able to get him out of my head.

I can't read his features, so I'm not sure what's going through his mind, but he dips his head down, just slightly?—

“Wolfe!” Kiplin yells from the other side of the rink behind the boards. The sound of the captain's voice has us breaking apart, noticeably too quickly from the scowl on Kiplin’s face. “Recovery! Now!”

Lawson winks at me, and skates toward Kiplin without another word or look back.

I only know he doesn't look back because I watch him until he disappears from the rink. And I stand there, unmoving on the ice, wondering if I've just made a giant mistake.

CHAPTER 5

LAWSON

“This timeI want you to try using your inside edge,” Blakely says, her blue eyes focused intently on my skates where she stands in front of me on the ice.

“Why?” I ask, my breathing heavy. This is our first private lesson and she's been running me ragged for the last half hour. I thought Coach Hardin’s drills were intense, but he’s got nothing on Coach Wren.

“Because I think you rely too much on your outside edge. If you incorporate the two more, you gain more speed.”

“I use all my edges,” I argue even though I know there's no use. Blakely is nothing if not stubborn.

Brilliant but stubborn.

She arches a brow, her features igniting with challenge. I can tell she loves her job, but I'm just egotistical enough to think that some of that fire in her eyes is because she likes challenging me the most.

“Yeah, yeah,” I say turning and skating back to the starting position indicated by a stick laying horizontal on the ice.

Blakely waits until I'm in the setup position, then yellsgo. I focus on doing as she says, gliding with my inside edge as opposed to my outside, and make the curve we've been practicing in record time. I skid to a stop next to her, heart pounding.

“Good,” she says. “Did you feel the difference?”

“Sure,” I say, even though I absolutely did. I’ve felt every difference she's drilled into me since we started this lesson. Even the tips she's given in group practices have helped improve my speed.

“Of course you did,” she corrects me. “That little switch and being able to move freely between the two will shave seconds off of your normal skate time. Those seconds can push you farther than your opponents, giving you and your teammates the time you need to score.”

She's not wrong. Not that I'm going to admit that to her. Wouldn't want her getting a big head, there's enough of that here with me.

“Speaking of opponents,” I say. “For our first game, are you going to wear my name on your back?” I smirk, delight slicing through me at the quick flash of shock in her eyes.

“I'll be wearing my own jersey,” she answers. “Now let's work on your explosion.”

“All business,” I say, returning to the starting position, her following me and coming to my left side.

“That’s kind of the idea for private lessons, isn't it?” She adjusts her stance to match mine, which is slightly bent at the knees, one arm facing the direction she wants us to go.

“For sure,” I say. “But what's work without a little pleasure?”

She groans just a little.

---