There’s concern mixed with the light humor still on her face, like even now she’smoreworried aboutme. That little divot between her eyebrows appears, slanting against her beautiful smirk.
“Were you watching me?”
“Maybe.”
“You keep catching my worst moments,” she grumbles, skating slowly. I follow her, trying not to pant like a fucking dog behind her.
“Only fair,” I add. “Considering today might be the only day you’re not hauling my big ass off the ice.”
“I’ve seen bigger.”
Everything in me perks up at the verbal spar, the offer of flirting. Every part of my usual numbness starts to fade away at the promise ofher.
“Have you? An ass girl?”
She stops and smiles. “Not particularly. But I’ve heard lots about hockey players havinggiant—”
My palm slaps over her mouth, pushing into her and sending us both landing lightly against the boards. She’s a small thing, even the height of her blades don’t give her anything since I’ve got mine on as well. Small, but not delicate, and shapely in a way I can easily see through all the tight black material covering her muscular body.
She giggles into my hand, gray eyes crinkling with humor at the effect of her taunt.
“Got it out of your system?”
She nods, but I hold on a moment longer, desperate for the feeling of her pressed to me. I want to grab her, caress and touch every inch of her.
I shouldn’t—she’s myfriend, if even that. But I'm in her orbit now, and she's becoming my goddamn center of gravity. Whether she realizes it or not.
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
“You ever gonna tell me why I keep pulling your big handsome ass off the ice?”
I smirk. “So youhavebeen checking out my ass.”
She’s silent, a half smile still on her face, but there’s clearly a quick search of me reflecting in her eyes. She’s worried about meagain, and a knot starts to form in my throat.
She pushes me suddenly, switching our positions and pressing me into the boards and plexiglass in a much softer, sensual way than I’m used to, the top of her head just dusting my shoulders.
“Alright, hotshot, let’s make a deal.”
No deal needed—if she keeps looking at me like this, I’ll do anything she says.
“I don’t ask about your shit, you don’t ask about mine. We share the ice—”
“And music,” I butt in.
“And music.” She laughs and my chest feels lighter. “But that’s all. Nothing else, just… partners.”
She pulls back from me and does a little spin, keeping her eyes on mine.
“Don’t look me up,” I add desperately, as she starts to skate to her side.
Her brow wrinkles and her mouth opens like she might tease or ask a follow up question, but she doesn’t. Something she sees on my face must be enough.
“Okay.”
* * *