Page 10 of Waltzing on Ice

And then, before he can say anything else, I turn and skate away.

Chapter Nine

Finn

The next day practice is tense. Like most things seem to play out with Daisy, it’s all stubborn pride, neither of us willing to give an inch. We’re supposed to be practicing our new routine, but she’s tense, overthinking every movement, and it’s pissing me off.

“Jesus, Daisy, can you stop micromanaging for one second?” I snap, skating up behind her as she rubs a hand over her face.

She whirls around. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” I say, stepping closer. “You’re so damn obsessed with being perfect that you’re sucking the life out of this routine. You feel nothing.”

Her eyes blaze. “I feel plenty. I just don’t let my emotions dictate my skating like you do. Some of us have control.”

I laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “Control? Is that what you call this? Because all I see is someone too afraid to let go for even a second.”

She shoves at my chest, and it’s the last straw. The tension that’s been brewing between us for weeks, maybe months, finally snaps.

I grab her wrist before she can pull away, yanking her flush against me. Her breath hitches, and suddenly we’re too close.

I can feel the heat rolling off her, see the way her pupils dilate when she looks up at me.

“Let go,” she says, but it’s breathless, uncertain.

I should let her go. Instead, I crush my mouth against hers.

She gasps, her fingers curling into my shirt like she wants to shove me away or maybe pull me closer. I don’t give her the chance to decide. I deepen the kiss, pouring every ounce of frustration, desire, and pure fucking need into it.

She responds just as fiercely, her nails dragging down my back, her body pressing into mine as if she’s been waiting for this just as badly.

“Fuck you,” she mutters against my lips, but she’s already pulling me toward the lockers, her hands fisting in my jacket. Thank God we booked private practice time today instead of sharing time with other skaters.

“Not if I fuck you first,” I growl, slamming the door shut behind us.

There’s no patience, no hesitation—just desperate, clawing need. My hands slide up her thighs, gripping tight as I lift her against the cold metal. She wraps her legs around me, her breath hot and uneven against my neck as I push her against the lockers.

“Tell me this is what you want,” I demand, my voice rough.

She glares at me, lips swollen, cheeks flushed. “I don’t need to tell you anything.”

I chuckle darkly. “Fine. I’ll make you show me.”

I tear at the thin fabric between us, groaning when I find her wet and ready. Her gasp turns into a moan as I press my fingers into her, teasing, stretching. She bites down on my shoulder, muffling the sounds spilling from her lips, but I don’t let up.

“You take control of everything,” I murmur against her skin. “Let me have this. Let me have you.”

She shudders, nails sinking into my back. “Finn—”

That’s all I need.

I quickly pull my cock out of my pants and thrust into her in one hard stroke, swallowing her gasp with my mouth. She’stight, scorching hot, her body clenching around me like she’s trying to pull me deeper into her.

“Fuck, Daisy—”

She rolls her hips, meeting me thrust for thrust, her body a perfect counter to mine even here, even off the ice. There’s nothing graceful about this, nothing choreographed. It’s raw, frantic, a battle of dominance neither of us is willing to lose.

“Harder,” she demands, her voice a breathless plea, and I oblige, driving into her with a force that rattles the lockers behind us.

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