Chapter 21
Tip twenty-one; Anticipation is often hotter than the act itself.
Slow down. Take your time. Let your hands hover before they touch.
Skim their skin. Let your mouth almost kiss before it does.
Make them wait that extra second. The tension of almost can make everything that follows feel so much better. Make them yearn.
Ivy
The rink is empty when I step inside, my heart beating too fast.
I look at Asher's text again.
We're almost back. Need to see you. . . meet me at the rink?
I have to remind myself we're just temporary.
But my chest tightens in a way that doesn't feel temporary at all.
They'd been gone for three days now, the house silent without Leon to invite god knows who over and when I got the text earlier I'd practically jumped out of bed to have a shower and get over here.
And now that I was here, I realised how desperate I was to see Asher too and that thought had me turning back for the entrance.
"Ivy?"
My eyes fell shut, and I counted to three in my head before turning around.
He stands there, a small smile forming on his face. It is slow, lazy. Familiar. He's wearing the hockey jersey I've always seen him in but never noticed how well he filled the shoulders out and skates but the rest of him was noticeably bare of the rest of the hockey uniform.
Relief crashes through me so hard I almost lose my balance.
He drops his bag without looking away from me.
"You couldn't even go home first?" I call, trying to sound casual.
He steps towards me. "Didn't want to."
The words land low in my stomach and he smirks at my silence.
"Why, did you miss me?"
"You were gone three days." I roll my eyes.
"That was not answer." He chides slowly.
I don't give him one, looking from him to the empty rink to his skates.
"Everyone has already left." He says softly.
I knew that. The parking lot was empty when I got here.
Asher tilts his head at me. "Do you have your skates?"
It takes me a second to reply. "In my car."
"Go get them."
· · ·
His hand settles low against my back as I step onto the ice.
The contact feels like something snapping into place.
"I hated it," he says quietly.
I swallow, focusing on not face planting at the feel of his body so close to mine. "Hated what?"
"Not being able to do that."
His palm presses slightly into my lower back.
I swallow.
We fall into rhythm side by side. His hand brushes mine, pinky almost hooking around mine like it belongs there. Like it has every right.
I twist suddenly, turning to face him and skating backwards. I need the space right now.
"Did you behave?" I tease. "Bet you were very popular while you were away."
He smirks and says, "I behaved." There's a pause. "Mostly."
My stomach drops. What does that mean?
I don't have time to think on it before he's skating around me, circling me. "Did you miss me?" He presses the same question from earlier.
"You were in another state."
"Doesn't mean you weren't thinking about me."
Heat climbs up my neck.
He notices. Of course he does. He always seems to notice.
His hand drifts slightly lower. I nudge him with my elbow on my back.
"Asher." I hiss warningly, butterflies taking flight.
I feel his breath at my he back of my ear before his words, "What? We're alone."
That's the dangerous part.
We slow near the boards. He leans back against the plexiglass and gently pulls me between his skates.
My heart starts racing for a completely different reason. Stop it. Stop it. Stop.
"I missed this," he murmurs.
"This what?"
"You pretending you're not affected by me."
I try to shove him, but he catches my wrist easily, grin widening at the affect his taunts have on me.
His other hand slides to my hip.
The air shifts. "Stop staring at me like that," I whisper.
"Like what?"
"Like you're about to do something."
He cocks his head, staring down at me with blue eyes that seem far too perceptive. "Maybe I am."
My breath catches.
The distance between us shrinks slowly without me even realising.
"Ivy," he says softly.
He says my name like it means something.
Like it's not just habit.
His thumb traces small circles at my waist.
"You didn't text much while I was gone," he murmurs.
"I was busy." I shrugs, glancing away for a second before the feel of his breath against my lips has my attention swinging back to him.
"Too busy to miss me?"
I roll my eyes. "You were gone for three days."
"I missed you." He says quietly, "missed your lips, your tongue, your hands on me-"
My eyes widen, feeling heat creep up my neck. "Asher-"
He chuckles and the sound goes straight through me. He rests his forehead against mine.
That shouldn't feel intimate.
But it does.
My fingers curl into the fabric of his jersey.
"Are you getting attached?" I ask lightly, try for jokingly but I feel it fall flat.
He takes a second to answer. A second that feels far too long and far too weighted.
"Are you?"
I open my mouth.
Nothing comes out.
His eyes search mine.
And for a second, the teasing drops. His blue eyes flash with something I can't name.
He leans in. His mouth hovers over mine.
Close enough that I can feel his breath. Close enough that if I tilt my chin half an inch our lips would touch. I want him to kiss me.
But he doesn't.
His lips brush my cheek instead.
Slow. Intentional.
I inhale sharply. "Asher."
He hums against my skin. The vibration of the rough sound causing the butterflies in my stomach to dance.
His mouth drifts lower. The corner of my lips. My jaw. He still doesn't kiss me.
He traces my skin, skims it.
He lets his lips ghost the edge of mine and then pulls back just enough to smile.
I huff.
"You're impatient," he murmurs.
"I am not."
"You are." I can practically hear the knowing grin in his voice.
He pulls back and raises a taunting brow at me. I glance away from his eyes, staring instead at the freckle against his neck below his left ear.
See the way his muscles tense before he dips again.
This time the side of my mouth.
I turn my head to his lips, trying to brush them, chase them.
He pulls back with that maddening raised brow.
I narrow my eyes, pushing my lips. "You're doing that on purpose."
"Doing what?"
My narrowed eyes turn to a glare. He only smiles wider. "Teasing."
He chuckles softly.
"Anticipation, Ivy." He stares into my eyes. "Now are you going to let me continue?"
It's silent for a moment as my hesitation rears its ugly head but then I nod.
His face brightens. His lips trail down the line of my jaw. Under my ear. Along the sensitive skin of my neck.
My fingers tighten in his jersey.
"You're a menace."
"I'm educating you."
"Are you serious right now?"
He smiles against my skin.
"You said you wanted to learn."
His mouth brushes the corner of my lips again.
Still not kissing me.
"You're impossible," I breathe. "What am I even meant to be learning?" My voice is breathless, wanton almost and I squeeze my eyes shut.
"Stop chasing."
"I'm not."
He pulls back fully this time.
Just enough that I feel the loss.
"Then stop turning for my mouth. Just relax and enjoy."
I hate him.
I absolutely hate him.
I almost want to surge forward to kiss him myself.
I don't.
He laughs under his breath, no doubt at the glare I'm sending his way. A glare I know has zero heat in it.
"Tease," I accuse.
He grins.
"Say please."
"Absolutely not."
"Then wait."
He leans in again.
Slow.
Painfully slow.
His mouth hovers.
My heart is beating so loud I'm convinced he can hear it.
"Still not attached?" he murmurs.
"Still not."
He narrows his eyes. "Good."
My heart lurches.
And finally, finally -
His lips press to mine.
The kiss starts soft. Testing.
Then it deepens.
It's not frantic, not reckless like some of our other kisses. This one seems . . . more somehow and that scares me.
His hand slides up my back. Mine tangle in his hair. The world narrows to breath and warmth and the scrape of blades shifting under us.
The heavy rink door slams.
The sound echoes through the building.
We shift apart and I almost fall in my haste to put space between us. If it weren't for Asher's hands still on my hips I think I would've hit the ice.
Footsteps on rubber flooring.
My stomach drops.
"No one comes here this late," I whisper. I'd never seen anyone here when Charlotte and I came to use the rink.
He's already scanning the ice, the stands.
"Locker rooms," he mutters.
He grabs my hand and we push off fast.
We don't stop to untie our skates. We stumble down the rubber hallway, blades clacking awkwardly.
I laugh bubbles up my throat; one I try to squash.
"Now?" he hisses, trying not to smile.
"This is ridiculous."
"Shit."
He pulls me into the nearest room and shuts the door.
It's an equipment cupboard.
Dark. Narrow. Shelves stacked high. The smell of rubber and tape and cold air.
It's only once we stop and take a breath, I realise how small the cupboard is and that every inch of Asher is pressed against every inch of me.
That we're still holding hands. That my heart is beating a too hard, too fast. And I don't know if that is because of Asher or the fact we were almost just caught.
I breathe hard, looking up at Asher through my lashes.
"Do you think they saw us?" I whisper.
Asher hesitates, then shakes his head. "I don't know. I didn't see anyone so there's a chance they didn't get the chance to see us either."
I nod.
The thrill of almost being caught vibrates under my skin.
Asher glances down at me and one look at my wide eyes and parted lips has him smiling, before a low laugh exits his lips. He shakes his head slowly.
"That was close."
I shift in the small space, trying to listen to see if there is anyone waiting for us in the hall.
He looks at me differently now. His laughter fades but the grin on his lips remains.
My pulse stutters. From him, from the situation, from everything. "You think this is funny?"
"You have to admit; it is a little." He looks around us, hiding in an equipment cupboard. "We're in a cupboard, together . . . again."
"You dragged me in here."
"You were laughing, drawing whoever is out there's attention straight to us." He accuses with an amused tone.
"That was panic."
"That was excitement."
His hand slides from my waist to my hip again. Slow. Deliberate.
"Ivy."
The way he says my name makes my stomach flip.
"Where were we?" he murmurs.
"Really? We're in a closet."
"Not the first time I've kissed you in a confined space. Won't be the last. I merely see an opportunity."
"You're unbelievable."
"You like it."
My fingers tighten in his jersey before I can stop myself.
He notices.
"Careful," he murmurs. "You're clinging."
"I am not."
"You are a little." He teases, leaning down so we're on the same level.
My heart stumbles.
"If someone saw us," he continues lightly, "I'm blaming you."
"Me?"
"You look guilty when you blush."
I turn my head away and he laughs softly.
"Come on, let's go. Before someone finds us and thinks this is something it's not." He says, reaching for the door and opening it.
My stomach tightens.
There's a beat of silence where I almost want to just walk out and figure out what exactly the emotion is that I'm feeling.
But instead, I find myself laughing, though it falls flat even to my ears.
"Relax. I'm not confusing this.”
He freezes for a second and I avoid his eyes when his head whips towards me. It helps that the cupboard is so much darker than the hall, almost hiding me in shadow.
"Good." He says a little too quickly. He pushes the door open further. "Coast is clear."