Page 32 of Fair Play
“Help me,” I whisper. “I’m frozen. Do what you have to do.”
There’s silence, and then his warm, strong fingers gently but firmly prying mine from the death grip I have on his shirt. My free hand is squeezed into a fist and I don’t know if I’m breathing, but then that deep, sexy baritone I love so much washes over me.
“Babe, you’re standing. I’ve got my arm around your waist but you’re on your own.”
My eyes fly open, and I look down, as if I don’t quite believe him, but he’s right—I’m standing on these inline skates on my own. He has a hand on my waist, but really, he’s not holding me so much as lending support.
“You okay?”
“Yes?” I bite my lip. “But now I don’t know what to do.”
“Come on, if you take the first step, your body is going to remember. It’s like riding a bike.”
“Sure, easy for you to say when you skate every day.”
“Babe. You got this.” He puts a hand on the side of my face. “Come on. Let’s go.” He edges his feet forward and I have no choice but to follow since he’s still got a hand at my waist.
I move my right leg forward, getting a feel for the wheels, and my left leg follows suit. I flounder for a second but as promised, Rome’s hand tightens on my waist, steadying me.
“That’s it. You got this.” His words of encouragement fill me with pride. and I grab onto his hand as we start to move.
“Oh, fuck.” The words sound more like an extended hiss but we’re on the boardwalk now, lost in a throng of people who aren’t paying the slightest bit of attention.
And for a brief moment in time, it’s just the two of us, hands linked, moving slowly along the beach. The wind comes off the water and I feel a slight chill but I’m too focused on the task at hand—and the man next to me—to pay attention.
“You okay?” Again with the warm, deep voice.
I’m pretty sure I’ll do anything he asks as long as he does it in that voice.
“I’m… getting there.” My legs move a little faster and I realize my body does, indeed, remember what to do. One foot in front of the other, knees slightly bent, and my fingers linked with Rome’s. A veritable lifeline.
“Ready to go faster?” He abruptly turns so he’s facing me and skating backwards. He takes both of my hands and pulls me along. “Come on—try to match my strides.”
“My legs are a lot shorter!” I protest, but I do it anyway, my gaze focused on his muscular thighs and the way his legs glide effortlessly.
I can do this.
Iamdoing it.
Fuck, yes, I’m skating.
And suddenly it all comes together.
I lift my head and meet his gaze. “I’m doing it.”
“You are.” He’s grinning.
“Faster,” I whisper.
He doesn’t break our gaze but picks up speed. He’s pulling me but I’m keeping up, my feet finding the rhythm that was once second nature to me. Roller skates are slightly different from ice skates, but most of the balance and legwork is similar, and as we whoosh past crowds of beachgoers, tourists, and vendors, I’m once again lost in the feeling that it’s just the two of us.
It’s like being under a spell—one you never want to break.
“You’re doing great,” he says, “but do you remember how to stop?”
“Just when I was starting to have fun,” I pretend to grumble, “you had to go and ruin it.”
He slows down a bit, glancing behind him every so often and then glides to a stop.
