62. That’s Good Hockey
62
THAT’S GOOD HOCKEY
AIDAN
“ Y ou know, the sight of you in those hockey skates makes me want to lay you out at the first opportunity.” I shoot Rory a devilish grin, and she pretends to roll her eyes in annoyance.
It took some convincing—okay, a lot of convincing—to get her back out on the lake, and now that she’s here….
Dressed in leggings and the Breakers hoodie I gave her— the one with my number on the back. She wears Liam’s old hockey gloves and holds Reagan’s stick. She’s the only righty out of the four of us. And God, the sight of her—it’s a distraction. I can barely track the puck she’s practicing with at her feet.
“I never thought I’d see the day when the ice princess traded in her toe-pick for a pair of hockey skates.”
“It’s not like I had much of a choice—you don’t have any figure skates lying around.” She moves forward a little, deftly handling the puck between her stick. I stand up a little straighter. “Don’t get too excited—I’m just desperate for a little ice time.”
I lean forward on my stick, grinning. “Oh, I’m already excited. You’re about to learn what real skating is all about.”
She snorts, “Please, I was landing axles before you were tying your own skates.”
I laugh. “Sure, you can spin in circles and look pretty, but I’m not sure you can handle the game. Hockey players are just built tough.”
Rory stops skating, angling her head a bit to the side, considering me. I let her see the smirk on my face. Narrowing her eyes, they flicker between the puck at her feet and then back to me. Determined. A mischievous glint in her blue eyes. My dick twitches at the sight.
My smile falls when she winds up the stick and slaps the puck at her feet. I don’t have time to move out of the way before it crashes hard into my shin.
Wincing, I curse, rubbing the area that’s stinging like a mother… “Damn ice princess, way to go Tonya Harding on my ass.”
“Whoops,” she says with faux innocence. “My bad. It’s not too late to get your pads. Looks like you might need them.” She glides backwards on her blades. The hockey skates on her feet do not make her any less graceful, even on the rough surface of the lake.
I lean forward, picking up the puck with my stick, maneuvering it in front of me. “Enough talk, little lion. Let’s see if you can actually score on me.” I pass her the puck. She catches it easily. Lazily skating back and forth, sizing me up like a predator would prey. Coming alive with the challenge. The gray in her eyes glitter in the daylight sun.
“Ready?” I call out, gripping my stick tighter, keeping my eyes locked on hers.
“Always,” she quips right back, rushing me with the puck. Stick-handling with surprising finesse, she comes straight for me, as if meaning to skate right through me—like a frozen game of chicken. But at the last second, she dekes left. My arm shoots out, fast as lightning, catching just enough of the puck to throw it off course and out of her control. She skids to a stop.
“You’re fast,” she huffs, out of breath.
“And you’re sneaky.” I skate up beside her until I’m in her personal space. She doesn’t back up. “I like it.”
That’s when she twists out of my sight, disappearing around my backside and swiping up the abandoned puck I’d left feet from the goal. I tear after her, but it’s too late. She skates it in with ease, scooping her stick under the black disc and landing a goal—top shelf. At the clink of the puck hitting metal, she grins, circling around the net, laughing at me.
“That’s cheating.”
“That’s good hockey,” she challenges, and I can’t help but smile.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I let it go a few times before removing my glove and reluctantly pulling it out. Seeing my coach’s name on the caller ID, I motion to Rory to give me a second and turn around to take the call.
“Coach.”
“O’Rourke.” I can already tell from coach’s tone, I’m not going to like what he has to say. “Listen, I talked to the board and they won’t approve your leave from play, seeing as it’s not injury-related.”
I sigh, running a hand down my face. I knew this was a possibility. We’re in the height of the season and the Breakers’ record puts us in third place overall.
“I can excuse you from tonight’s practice, but you’re expected in Toronto with the team the day after next.”
My eyes find Rory watching from a distance, concern in her eyes seeing my mouth pinch tight.
“Okay, Coach. Let me see what I can figure out.”
“Be sure you do, O’Rourke. You’re on thin ice as it is. The past few weeks have helped, but it can just as easily fall apart,” he warns.
“I understand.”
I slide my cell back into my pocket, skating to meet Rory.
“You have to play the Toronto series?” She’s already two steps ahead.
I mess with my hair before tugging my hockey glove back on and shrug, “That’s what they said.”
Her eyes narrow, “Aidan, you have to play. If you don’t, the Breakers could drop you…”
“I know.” I look at her, pulling her close to me, both hands on her hips. “But some things are more important. I need to keep you safe.”
She’s already shaking her head, “One of us already set their career on fire.” There’s a flash of pain in her eyes that feels very much like a knife to the gut. “There’s no reason we both have to.”
I consider her. She thinks her figure skating career is over… She had the choice to either follow her father’s plan or abandon her dream. She chose freedom at the expense of everything she’s worked for. My mind reels with other plans.
“What if you came with me?”
“Came with you?” she raises an eyebrow, “To Toronto?”
I pull her closer, the plan in my head already formulating, “You heard me.”
“Is that allowed?”
“Fuck anybody who says it isn’t.” I scoop her up and she wraps her legs around me, my gloves resting under her thighs. I skate us slowly back to the house.
“Well, I guess we better go pack.” The sight of a smile on her face has my heart constricting in my chest. This fucking girl. I lean forward, claiming her mouth aggressively with my tongue. The soft moan she makes has me instantly hard.
When I pull back, she stills, hungry for more.
“Aidan—” she starts, but doesn’t have a chance to finish before I toss her into the large snowbank behind the goal.
“Hey!” she huffs, brushing off the snow clinging to her, a few flakes on her hair and cheeks like crystallized freckles. “What was that for?”
“Cheating,” I grin and skate off, laughing at the string of curses I hear thrown at my back.