Stop it, Laura. That is not a memory I should be thinking about right now.
I glance around the rink, searching for anything to look at that isn’t him, but we’re alone. Just me, and Scotty, and the sound of my heart beating like it’s trying to escape my ribcage.
He pulls the laces tight and I suck in a breath far too sharply.
Did he notice that?
If he does, he's being a gentleman and not saying anything.
Then his hand slides under the skate and up my leg, guiding the angle of my ankle. You’d think the thick leggings between us would make the move less erotic.
It doesn’t.
I feel every inch of him like he pressed his palm directly to my skin. My legs actually tremble.Perfect. Love that for me.
He sets my foot down carefully and moves to the next skate. I cross my arms, desperate to regain some kind of footing—literal or otherwise.
“You know,” I say, aiming for casual and landing somewhere closer to breathless, “I never thought I’d see the day King Scotty would be on his knees for someone.”
Thatwas the best I’ve got?
I cringe, thinking for a reason why I would say anything like that. I guess it’s some desperate reflex to hide the fact that I actuallylikethe view.
Scotty freezes mid-lace and looks up at me.
And—God.
That look could melt the entire hockey rink.
Searing. Focused.Hungry.
“I’d get on my knees for you anytime, Princess,” he says, his voice so low it rumbles down my spine. “All you have to do is ask.”
Did he just say that, or is my heady brain playing tricks on me?
He’s still watching me, so I’m guessing he did.
I gulp, desperately trying to maintain a straight face, but that's hard to do when his declaration makes my clit throb. Literally, throb.
No.
Absolutely not.
I amnotfalling for Scotty Hendricks. Again.
No. I’m not that stupid. Every single time this man has entered my life, I have gone through something monumentally embarrassing. I'm not doing it again.
He's helping me. That's all this is and all it will ever be.
I’m spiraling so hard I barely process that he’s finished lacing my skate.
“Oh, before I forget,” he says, leaning to the side and digging in his bag. He pulls out two small black plastic pads and holds them up.
“They're for your knees.”
“I got that, but you want me towearthem?”
“Yeah, after your performance on Friday, I think it will help with your confidence.”
