Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 66074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
“Won’t you be cold?” she asked as I put her arms through my jacket one at a time, making sure she didn’t lose her balance.
“Around you? I could probably melt the ice.”
She rolled her eyes and laughed. “As lines go, that was pretty bad.”
“Yet true.” I held out my hand. “Come on. I won’t let you fall.”
She swallowed, and something flashed across her eyes, but then she smiled, and it vanished as she reached for me. “Better not.”
I laced our fingers and showed her how to move her feet, skating with her slowly so she could keep one hand on the wall.
“You know, I had an entirely different workout planned when I flew down here,” she said with a smirk, starting to move with a little more confidence.
“How did you manage to sneak away on a Wednesday? Not that I don’t appreciate it, because I do. But I also know you have a giant clothing company to run.”
She let go of the wall but kept a tight grip on my hand. “It’s not just me, you know. Am I the CEO? Yes. Do I run what I hope will be our most profitable line once we’re in stores? Absolutely. But I have a VP, board of directors, and a CFO that give me the freedom and time to run that line and sneak away for an afternoon.” Her forehead puckered slightly. “I can’t even imagine if I didn’t have them. I’d be glued to my desk if I didn’t.”
“Then you’d never learn to skate,” I teased.
“I’d hardly call this skating. It’s more like shuffling my feet and trying like hell to maintain my balance so I don’t—” She leaned back slightly, and her feet came out from under her.
I jumped to the right and caught her under her arms before she could make contact with the ice. “See?” I asked, looking down at her with a smile. “Told you I wouldn’t let you fall.”
“So, I see.” She laughed. “I’m horrible at this.”
I brought her back to her feet and kissed her neck. “I suck at designing clothes.”
She turned in my arms and looped hers around my neck. “But you’re really good at inspiring them. Then again, this body could probably make a trash bag look good.” She leaned up and kissed me, and with just that simple brush of her mouth against mine, I was a goner.
“One night, huh?” I asked against her mouth, sliding my hands into her back pockets and pulling her tight against me.
“One night,” she whispered. “But we have a fitting next week, right?” She ran her fingers through my hair, which was still damp from the shower.
Next week.
Right.
Because this was only supposed to be sex.
Why did it feel like it was growing into something more? Hadn’t we agreed?
“You know it’s going to get tight over the next couple of months, right?” I asked, pulling away just enough to look in those gorgeous eyes. “Playoffs start next week. I won’t be able to take any time away besides the dates we’ve already scheduled for work.”
She swallowed and nodded. “I know. And don’t worry, it’s not like I think this is…anything serious.” A shadow crossed across her face.
“What is it?” I tucked a curl behind her ear so she couldn’t hide behind it.
“I just…” She sighed. “I know we said that this is just sex, and it is. But I remember enough about pro players from Crossland’s team, so I guess I’m just going to come right out and ask. Am I the only girl you’re sleeping with? Because the thought of you—” She cringed.
“You’re it,” I said softly, cradling her face with one hand. “Which is something I never thought I’d say, but no, I’m not sleeping with anyone else. No matter what this is, I wouldn’t do that.”
“Okay. Good.” Her shoulders dipped in obvious release, and her eyes slid shut for a second. “And who knows, maybe I can sneak away for a game or two.”
An ugly thought took a swipe at me. Was there anyone else in her life? “What about you? Should I worry?”
“Me?” She looked up at me, and I fell into her eyes just like I had the first time I’d met her when we’d both been young and stupid. Sure, we were older now, and maybe even a little wiser, but that connection was still there. She tugged lightly on my hair, a habit I was beginning to fucking love. “There’s no one, Cormac. Just you.”
“Good.” A wave of possessiveness I had no right to feel swamped my chest. It was the same feeling I’d had when I’d randomly looked up during the New York game and seen her in the stands wearing my jersey.
“Good,” she echoed.
I felt it then—the shift of energy between us, and while we skated around the rink, her movements becoming surer with every minute we spent on the ice, I remembered every reason this couldn’t work as more than it already was.