Page 126 of Game Misconduct
Sloane nods slowly, then glances my way. “I haven’t skated like that in a long time.”
“You looked like you never stopped.”
A wry smile curves her lips. “I used to have a routine. For competitions. I could still probably skate it in my sleep.”
I tilt my head. “Show me.”
She laughs, startled. “It’s kind of silly without music.”
“Don’t care. I want to see.”
She hesitates. Not because she doesn’t want to—because part of herdoes, and that scares her. I can see it in the way her fingers curl over the boards like she’s grounding herself.
But after a second, she pushes off.
And just like that, she transforms.
Her body shifts into muscle memory, graceful and sure. No hesitation. No performance for me. Just her cutting elegant curves into the ice with speed and control that make my chest go tight.
She moves through turns, crossovers, and jumps—not big ones, but clean and intentional. Arms out, posture perfect. Sheflows with a quiet rhythm only she can hear, and it’s…breathtaking.
Power and softness. Precision and heart.
It’s not a show. It’s a part of her.
And watching it—watchingher—wrecks me in a way I don’t know how to explain.
She finishes at center ice with a final spin that slows into stillness, her hands at her sides, chest rising with effort. She doesn’t look at me right away. Just breathes, letting the ghost of music fade into silence.
I take a step onto the ice. Then another.
By the time I reach her, my throat’s tight.
“You still skate like it matters,” I say quietly.
Sloane lifts her eyes to mine, unsure. A little raw. “It did. For a long time.”
I reach out, brushing her hair back behind her ear, then slide my hand around the back of her neck.
“You were incredible.”
Her breath hitches and the air between us thickens, not with tension—but with something reverent.
Deep. Unspoken.
I pull her to me, and her hands clasp my shirt when our mouths meet.
We’re slow this time, as though any other way would break the moment we’re having.
I kiss her like she’s precious—because God knows she is—and like I may never get this moment again.
She moans under me, her lips parting beneath mine, and I take the opportunity to claim her softly, slowly.
It’s the most erotic kiss I’ve ever had in my life.
When we pull away, our breaths come out in small puffs of clouds around us, and I keep my hand against her cheek, feeling the ice-cold flush in her skin and the heat rising beneath it.
Letting her know she’s seen.
