Page 96 of The Hearts We Fumble
Using his shoulder for balance, I watch as he slowly slides them off. And when he moves to stand, his fingers trail up my outer thigh, around to my ass, and he pulls me into the corner.
I gasp, my breath catching. He leans in like he’s going to kiss me, but at the last second, his lips curve into a knowing smirk.
“If you keep touching me like that, this date’s going to be over before it even starts,” I blurt out.
His smirk deepens. “Then you’ll have to wait until after if you want to be rewarded.”
I arch a brow. “Rewarded how?”
Zane’s lips brush my ear, his voice dark and husky. “As in, you let me take you ice-skating, and when we’re done, I’ll find somewhere to sneak away and fuck you against the wall.”
My fingers grip his forearm like it’s the only thing keeping me upright. My eyes flutter closed, his breath hot against my skin.
“You like that idea, firecracker?”
I nod, my body trembling as his hands slide lower, gripping my ass and pulling me against him.
“Does it turn you on?” His voice dips even lower. “The thought of me so desperate for you I can’t wait until we get home? That I’ll need to take you right then and there, just to feel you wrapped around me?”
“Zane,” I whisper, my body buzzing with anticipation.
His deep moan vibrates between us before he pulls away, leaving me cold from the loss of his heat. I blink my eyes open, still dazed, my head clouded with want.
“Date first.” He grins, kneeling in front of me again to help lace up my skates.
I watch as his long fingers work the laces, tying them with ease before he moves to sit across from me, kicking off his shoes and pulling on his own skates.
I stand frozen, watching as he rises to his feet and places his shoes beside mine in the locker. Swallowing hard, I tuck my purse inside as well before Zane locks it and slips the key into his pocket.
My legs feel unsteady, and it has nothing to do with the skates. If he keeps that promise, I have a feeling I’ll be lucky if I can stand at all by the end of the night. He holds out his hand, waiting for me to take it.
“Come on, firecracker,” he teases. “Let’s see if you can keep up.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Wyatt
“When was the last time you went ice-skating?” I ask, stepping onto the ice and turning to face Zane as he grips the rink’s edge like it’s his lifeline.
“Uh… seventh grade, maybe?” He squints like he’s searching his memory. “Field trip. We came to watch a game.”
He lifts one hesitant foot onto the ice. His usual easy smirk is in place, but the way his knuckles go white against the barrier tells a different story.
I bite back a grin. “C’mon,” I coax, holding my hands out to him, ready to skate backward and guide him like I used to do for my little cousins.
Zane swats my hands away, his pride kicking in. “I got this.” His tone is playful, but I don’t miss the flicker of determination in his eyes.
He’s always been stubborn. If someone doubts him, it only fuels him to push harder. It’s part of why he’s so relentless on the field, why he’s fought to carve his own legacy instead of living in the shadow of his father.
Still gripping the wall, he takes a cautious step onto the ice, then another. His legs wobble, and for a second, I think he’s going down, but then he finds his footing. With a deep breath, he pushes off, moving toward me in shaky strides.
When he’s close enough, I spin around and offer my hand. He takes it, his fingers lacing through mine, warm and firm.
“You’re doing great,” I tease, squeezing his hand when he stumbles slightly.
“You should see me on a football field,” he shoots back, his smirk tilting. “I’m a lot better when I’m not sliding around on ice with knives strapped to my feet.”
I laugh, and the sound blends with the music drifting through the speakers overhead. The crisp air bites at my cheeks as we settle into an easy rhythm, circling the rink for the third time.
