16. Chapter 16 #2
“On what? The depravity of your actions and words last night?”
“Primarily.”
She laughs and covers her face with both hands.
I tug the sheets down, exposing her legs. My T-shirt looks like a dress on her, but I still get a flash of skin that makes my morning better .
“I expected waking up to room service at least. After last night.” Jessica props herself up on one elbow, still smiling. “Maybe a mimosa. A little post-sex praise brunch.”
“Spoiled.”
“I deserve it.” She shrugs.
“Get dressed.”
“Why?” Her brows lift.
“Because what I’ve got for you is better than room service.”
“What is it?” She eyes me, suspicious and intrigued.
“You’ll see,” I say, rising to my feet again. “Put on something comfortable.”
I cut the engine and lean back in my seat, my fingers still resting on the wheel as silence settles around us. I glance over at Jessica. She’s chewing the inside of her cheek while she thinks—that tiny habit I’ve started noticing like a marker on a map.
“Let’s just go,” I say, voice low .
She raises a brow but still unbuckles her seatbelt with a dramatic flourish and steps out. I follow her toward the entrance, fighting a smile the whole time.
She blinks up at the building and stops in her tracks. “Wait,” she says, squinting at the sign. “Is this…?”
“An ice rink,” I confirm, already opening the door.
“You’re taking me skating?” she asks, stunned.
I hold the door and nod. “That’s the plan.”
“You’ve seen me skate.”
“Unfortunately,” I answer, and guide her inside.
She studies the place. “Private rink. Middle of the day. Hockey captain and his PR girlfriend. Sounds like Tinnie planned this. Where’s the press?”
“No press,” I say. “No cameras.”
Her brows lift in surprise just before I open the second door. The staff spot us and light up.
“Captain Moreal!” one of them blurts.
Here we go.
“Good morning,” I say simply.
They scramble out from behind the counter. “You were insane last night,” the taller one says. “That breakaway in the third? You made that goal look easy! ”
“Such an honor to have you here,” the other adds, already pulling out his phone. “Could we maybe grab a photo real quick? Just one?”
Jessica smiles and steps away, giving them space. “Sure.” I nod and pose with the handful of staff, half-smiling while she watches.
After a few flashes, they wave us toward the benches. “Skates are over here. You’ve got the whole place to yourselves for the next hour. Just yell if you need anything.”
We head that way with Jessica still grinning.
“What?” I mutter.
“Nothing,” she says sweetly.
I arch a brow.
“You looked good taking pictures,” she adds, teasing.
We reach the benches and pull two pairs of rental skates from the rack. Jessica plops down, lifting her foot so I can help slide the boot on. Her foot wiggles, testing the fit.
“Tighter?” I ask, looking up at her.
She nods. “Yeah. I think. ”
I tighten the laces a little more, keeping my grip steady, my gaze flicking to her face. She watches me, bottom lip caught between her teeth.
“You’re enjoying this,” I mutter, standing when I’m done.
“Watching the great Captain Dominic Moreal kneel at my feet and lace me up like the figure-skating princess that I am?” She waves her arms dramatically.
I grab her hand and tug with a small smile. “Then let’s see how long you stay upright, figure-skating princess.”
I lead her to the rink and note she’s tense—shoulders tight, every inch of her pretending she’s not about to panic. We step onto the ice together. Her skates hit the surface and immediately start to shift.
She grabs at me. “No, no, I changed my mind, I’m not an ice princess.”
I wrap an arm around her waist and tug her flush to me. “Easy. I’ve got you.”
She breathes hard, arms tight around me. “You’re not letting go, right?”
“Not yet,” I say. “But you’re gonna learn. ”
She looks up at me. “You’re not allowed to laugh if I fall.”
“I’m not gonna laugh, ice princess.”
She slaps my chest and loses balance again, hands clamping to my shoulders.
“Get through twenty minutes without falling and maybe I’ll compliment you.”
She scoffs.
I move behind her, still holding her waist. “Bend your knees a little. Weight forward.”
She does. Sort of.
I press my hand to her lower back. “Not that far forward. You’re not diving.”
“You said forward!” Jessica straightens.
“I didn’t say face-first.”
I slide closer, gliding behind her, chest brushing her back. My hands skim down her arms, then land on her hips. “Bend your knees again.”
She doesn’t move, so I lean in. “You hear me?”
“Yeah.”
“Then bend. ”
She exhales and reluctantly sinks an inch. Her knees flex and her ass tilts back into my hips. The contact is instant. So is my cock’s reaction.
“Good,” I say, voice lower. “Now keep your weight forward. Not on your heels. You’ll slip.”
Her arms start to wobble. I catch her. “Jesus, this is terrifying when I’m not holding the boards.”
“I’ll be the boards.” I tighten my grip on her waist. “Just listen to what I say.”
She sucks in a breath and I guide her forward a few inches. “Push with your right foot. Just a little, like you’re gliding.”
She moves on unsteady skates. I correct her posture with a firm pull at her hip. “There.” We move again, a little slower but smoother. Every slight shift of her body rubs up against mine. I slide my hand lower.
“If I asked you to trust me,” I murmur, “would you?”
“No,” she huffs dramatically.
“I’m holding you,” I say, gliding her forward another foot. “I haven’t let go once.”
“I noticed,” she breathes.
We start a curve. Jessica jolts. “Why are we turning? ”
“Because life doesn’t happen in straight lines.”
“Don’t get philosophical when I’m on death blades.”
I laugh and drag my hand up her thigh. She stiffens. “Relax, or you’ll fall.”
“Hard to relax with you grabbing my—”
“Balance comes from your center.” I curl my fingers into her lower stomach, right above her core. She sucks in a sharp breath, stomach tightening under my fingertips. “Everything you need to stay standing starts right here.”
Her movements are cautious and shaky, but she’s doing it. Not falling. Not clinging. Barely gliding, but gliding.
I shift beside her, hand sliding up her back to keep her steady. She sways, and I grab her waist again.
“I’ve always wanted to be able to skate,” she admits quietly. “Not professionally or anything. I just… I don’t know. It always looked effortless. Powerful. Like flying.”
My gaze drags over the side of her face—prideful mouth, fire in her eyes, still burning while she wobbles. “I didn’t know that. ”
“You never asked.”
Fair.
I let her glide forward before catching her. My palm settles over her stomach, holding her upright. Both hands on her waist now. Her legs aren’t locked. Her posture’s better. Progress.
“Okay,” I murmur near her ear. “You ready for the next step?”
“What is it?” She tenses.
“I’m gonna let go.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Just for ten seconds.”
“Dominic!”
“You don’t have to move. Just stay upright.”
“I’ll fall. I know I’ll fall.”
“No. You think you’ll fall. Big difference.”
She stills, and I ease my hands off slowly. She wobbles, but stays up. “There you go.”
“I’m gonna die.”
“You’ve been standing for five seconds already, drama queen.”
Her balance shifts and she gasps, but I don’t catch her. Instead, I skate around her, letting her feel my presence without touching her. “Watch my feet. Push off like this. One foot, then the other. Small movements.” I show her the motion as I arc around her.
“Chest up. Knees bent. Weight forward. Don’t lean back.”
“I’m trying.”
“Stop trying. Start doing.”
“Easy for NHL royalty to say.”
Grinning, I stop a few feet away. “Now come here.”
She blinks. “What?”
“Skate to me.”
“Are you serious?”
“Dead.”
“No,” she says instantly. “Absolutely not. Come back here and get me.”
“You can do it.”
“I’ll fall!” she protests, throwing her arms up and losing balance a bit.
“Maybe.”
Her eyes narrow and I tilt my head. “Wanna make it interesting? If you’re right and you fall, you get a wish. But if you don’t?” I add, voice dipping low. “If you make it to me, I get a wish. ”
“What kind of wish?” she asks, suspicious.
“Whatever you or I want,” I shrug.
“Sounds like a trap.”
“It’s motivation. Come here. I’ll talk you through it.”
She bites her lip, and looks down at her feet.
“Push off with your right foot,” I guide. “A little weight, not too much. Keep your knees bent.”
She starts gliding, and I step back.
“Eyes on me,” I call. “Not the floor.”
Her face twists half-panic, half-laughter. Three feet away. Two. She stumbles with a high-pitched squeal, but I don’t move. “Come on,” I urge. “You’re right there.”
She steadies, finds her footing, pushes forward faster, and crashes into my chest. I catch her, feeling her relax in my arms. Her laughter tumbles out as her hands clamp my arms. This is what I wanted—not just to teach her, but to be the one she reaches for instinctively.
To be the reason she relaxes when she’s scared .
Her breathing’s quick, lips parted, eyes shining like she just won gold. “I didn’t fall,” she whispers, beaming up at me.
“No,” I murmur. “You didn’t.” I run a hand down her back, keeping her steady.
This girl used to flinch when I got too close. Now she melts into me. Maybe that makes me selfish. But I don’t care.
“Okay,” I say, scanning the rink. “We’re gonna pick up speed.”
Her eyes round, looking up at me.
“You’ll see.”
She’s standing better than earlier, but still shaky. If I pull her with me the way I want—hands on her waist—it’ll throw off her balance. Best case, she panics. Worst case, she twists an ankle or eats ice at thirty-five kilometers an hour. Not happening.
I skate back and stop just in front of her, giving her my back. “You trust me?”
“Oh God. What now?”
“I’m gonna need you to hop on.” I bend a little.
“What?”
“Piggyback. ”
“You are not skating around this rink with me strapped to you like a backpack.”
“Sure I am. I’ve done it with weighted vests heavier than you.”