Chapter 17 #2
By that point we’d learned that ice and I didn’t mix. But I was still too young to be left at home when it was time for practice. Brad and Johnny were young enough to go to the daycare in the big sports arena, but I’d long since outgrown that.
Nobody skates as beautifully as Mom. Isabella came in a close second, but Mom was always more comfortable on the ice than she was on the ground.
She’d call me her little changeling. Tease me that I was probably swapped at birth.
For a while I’d scrutinize every competition that Isabella competed at, watching the girls who were my age, trying to see if there was any family resemblance.
“You need to move,” Eli says. I blink and see him standing there patiently, his hand still wrapped around mine.
“This is only going to end one way,” I mutter. “Badly.”
Gingerly, I put one skate on the ice, telling myself that the faster I do this and fall over the quicker we can leave and have some passionate sex.
He’ll owe me a massage or two, as well. I smile at the thought of that.
The other skate hits the slippery surface. My heart races. The smile melts from my face.
“You’re on the ice,” he murmurs. “And you’re upright.”
“For now.”
“Trust me,” he says again.
“I do. It’s me I don’t trust.” My free hand wraps around the wooden board on the edge of the rink. I’m shaking.
“Look at me please,” he says, his voice soft.
I do. He’s gazing right into my eyes and it gives me a little jolt. He smiles and nods. “That’s it. Now let go of the board.”
“I’ll fall.”
“I won’t let you.”
I take a deep breath and do as I’m told. As soon as I’ve prised my hand away from the wood he takes it in his other hand. “Okay?”
Not really, but I nod anyway.
“I hate being bad at things,” I mutter.
“That’s because you’re so good at everything else,” he tells me. “But luckily for you I’m good at this, and I’ve got it for both of us. I’m going to skate backward now. You need to come with me.”
“Don’t let go of me.” I tighten my grip on his hands. My heart is hammering against my chest.
“I won’t.”
“And if I fall, don’t you dare laugh.”
His thumb caresses my palm. “If you fall I’ll owe you an orgasm.”
My head snaps up. “Really? So I get an orgasm for every time I fall? You’re not exactly motivating me to stay upright. What if I fall a hundred times? I’ll be getting off for days. You really need to restructure the benefits you offer.”
He grins. “You’re moving.”
“I’m what?” Then I realize what he means. While I’ve been babbling, he started skating backward, pulling me along for the ride. Then I look down at my feet and dizziness overwhelms me. I feel myself wobble. More than wobble, I’m flailing.
He lets go of my hands and I know it’s going to hurt.
But instead of my head slamming against the ice, his hands grab my waist and pull me against him. Yes, his chest is hard, but not as hard as the rink.
Instinctively, I wrap my arms around him.
“Don’t look down,” he advises.
“Now you tell me.”
“You need to look straight ahead,” he continues. “Looking down will put you off balance.”
“Sure.” It doesn’t matter because I’m not intending on letting go of him. If he wants to skate he’s going to have to get used to me being a limpet.
“Mackenzie?”
“Yeah?”
He strokes my face. It feels good. But it also means he isn’t holding onto me, so I tighten my grip on him.
“We’re moving again,” he says. He’s so damn nonchalant, skating backward, a thirty-something woman attached to him.
“You’re moving,” I tell him. “I’m just along for the ride.”
He turns, the show off, and I keep clinging. Then he dips his head to brush my lips with his. “You’re doing great.”
The stupid thing is, I flush with pride. Just because I’m staying upright by clinging onto him. I’m a sucker for praise and by the way he’s smiling at me he’s worked that out.
“If you call me a good girl I’ll scrape your eyes out,” I warn him.
“Will you? I wonder.” He kisses me again, still skating backward. How the hell does he know what’s behind him? I glance over his shoulder and see the barrier rapidly approaching us.
Or rather us rapidly approaching the boards.
But then he curves on his right skate and pulls me seamlessly along with him. Clearly, he has eyes in the back of his head.
“As much as I like having your body pressed against mine,” he says as he completes a backward circuit of the rink. “I think we’re going to have to take it to the next level.”
“It’s fine,” I say, gripping the back of his jersey. “I’m quite comfortable here.” I put my cheek against his chest and look up at him. “Let’s not push it.”
Ignoring my protests, he unwraps my arms from his waist and slides his hands along them, until my palms are against his again. “If you stay upright I’ll fuck you until you see stars,” he tells me.
“You’ve changed the bonus system without consultation,” I protest. “That’s bad business.”
“Move your skates, Hunter.”
I go to glance at my feet and he immediately reprimands me. “Don’t look down, remember.”
Yeah, I remember. But maybe a little too late, because this time my blades go out from under me before he can catch me, and I end up ass down on the icy cold rink. I groan as I see him looming over me.
He’s still smiling as he reaches a hand out.
“It’s fine. I like it here,” I tell him. “Nice view.”
“Get up.”
“No.” I’m not completely mortified. He isn’t laughing, for one. Just smiling like I’m the prettiest thing he’s seen.
And yeah, I quite like that.
Two hands slide under me and I’m suddenly lifted through the air. “Hey, what’s going on…”
“You’re getting up.” But he doesn’t let go. Just skates around with me in his arms.
“You’re going to give yourself a hernia,” I tell him.
“I’m giving myself a hard-on.” He doesn’t even wobble as he skates. The man has muscles of steel.
“I’m not having sex with you on the ice.”
He grins. “We’ll save that for the next lesson.
” He moves his arms, adjusting his hold on me until I’m vertical and facing him.
I’m scared of cutting him with my skates so bend my knees and tighten them on his waist, keeping my feet away from his body.
It has the added advantage of pushing me closer to all the right places
“Not helping, Hunter,” he tells me.
“Don’t you just want to take me home? Do dirty things to me?”
“I do,” he says seriously. “Very much so.”
“Then let’s go,” I tell him. “It’s cold and my ass is wet.”
Gently, he puts me back on the ice. “Not until you can skate for five seconds. Without holding onto me.”
I pout.
“Then we’ll leave,” he promises.
It takes half an hour and more falls than I care to think about, but eventually I manage to skate for five seconds without touching Eli or the boards.
I still feel wobbly, and keep to the edge of the rink with half an eye on the exit.
But the smile on his face makes up for the fear rushing through my body.
He’s standing by the exit to the rink so I deliberately slam into him, using him as a brake because if I use my skates I’m going to end up on the floor again.
He catches me and laughs, putting his hands on me to twirl me around the ice. I still hate it and grip onto his sweater like I’m holding on for dear life, but I’m also feeling kind of jubilant.
“Can we go home now?” I plead.
“Yep. Your place or mine?”
“Whichever is warmest,” I grumble. And then I add. “Mine.” Because my toothbrush is there. And my pajamas. I’m hoping he might stay the night again.
Strictly for now.
I ignore that voice and let him lead me off the ice.