When she looked up at me, it was as if I was seeing into her soul. I was hungry for this woman in every way I could imagine. I want to hold her and protect her . . . and ravage her all at the same time.
“I wish I had seen you that night. But I definitely remember the first time I saw you. When you showed up at rehearsal. I was instantly drawn to you.”
I laced our fingers together as we sat there basking in the warmth of the moment. It was all I could do not to kiss her, butshe had said she needed to take it slow, so I was taking it at her pace.
“What do ya say? Do you want to get back out there and skate a bit more?”
“Yeah, let’s do it,” she said, rising from the bench.
I tossed our empty plates and skated back onto the rink, the disco lights shimmering overhead.
And God, she shone.
Within minutes, she was flying again, gaining speed, laughing, hair streaming behind her. Every time she soared past me, she’d flash a breathless smile that hit me straight in the ribs.
By the time we started working on a little more backward skating, she’d collected four new bruises and approximately twelve “I swear I’m fine” assurances. But she kept trying. Kept laughing through it. Kept surprising me.
She was . . . incredible.
As the rink clock ticked on, we finally rolled toward the exit side by side, both of us flushed and sweaty and buzzing with endorphins.
She stopped by the front door, cheeks pink, eyes bright.
“I can’t believe how much fun that was,” she said, breathless.
I couldn’t believe how much I didn’t want this night to end.
“Me either,” I admitted softly. “You were amazing.”
She blushed harder, looking down at her skates as if they might offer guidance on what to do with a compliment.
Outside, in the parking lot, a gentle breeze enveloped us as I walked her to her car.
I shifted a little closer.
She lifted her eyes.
And for one suspended heartbeat, everything stilled. Her lips parted. Her breath caught. Her gaze dropped to my mouth and back up again, full of quiet longing she didn’t bother to hide.
It would’ve been the easiest thing in the world to lean in.
I wanted to.
God, I wanted to
So I leanedjustclose enough for her to feel it . . . but not so close I took her choice away.
“Eleanor,” I whispered, voice barely steady, “can I?—”
Her phone buzzed in her pocket.
She jumped, startled, breath breaking like a paper-thin spell.
Her mother’s name lit up the screen.
Of course it did.
She swallowed, apology in her eyes. “I—I should go.”
