7
Back on the ice
“I’m still not sure this is a good idea,” I said as we pulled up into the Joe Louis Arena parking lot the next morning. Niklas stopped in an empty row, a good distance from the small clump of other cars.
“What’s the matter?” he asked, the corners of his mouth turning up. “You don’t like hockey?”
I smirked. “Do I have to answer that?”
He looked considerably more at ease than he had the night before, but his mood wasn’t rubbing off on me. Back in Stockholm, when I had watched him play, I was anonymous. Part of the appeal of photography was that I did the watching; no one watched me. But I had left my camera at home today, and the seats around the rink would be mostly empty.
As much as I wanted to back out of this morning’s adventure, I knew I shouldn’t. I had to give this a try. Besides, Niklas had walked into my parents’ home, unannounced, trusting that I would make the right decision for us. My heart beat faster. Is this how Niklas had felt walking up my parents’ suburban front lawn? I closed my eyes, blocking out the arena in front of us.
Niklas’s warm hand found mine, and his thumb stroked my palm slowly. I turned and looked at him, his blue eyes waiting just for me.
“Are you nervous?” he asked softly.
I nodded.
“Me, too.”
I saw it now, the soft creases in his forehead and around his eyes. Though he did a much better job at covering it up, Niklas was probably just as worried as I was.
I rested my hand on his neck and pulled his mouth gently towards mine. As I closed the last distance between us, the lines on his forehead disappeared.
I had meant for the kiss to be soft, simply a reminder that we were there together. But the gentle brush of his lips against mine sent a spark of hunger through me. And guilt. The job Jess had passed on fit me exactly…and it meant traveling around New Hampshire for a month. Which I still hadn’t told Niklas.
I pulled back slightly, our lips still almost touching, bringing myself back to Niklas. I took a couple quick breaths and pushed New Hampshire away. It worked. The current between us grew stronger. The sound of my breath seemed to break through his reserve. He lifted his hand and tangled it in my hair, pulling me closer. He kissed me in long, sensual strokes, coaxing my mouth open. I didn’t stop him. I didn’t want to.
I shifted to move closer, but the seatbelt held me in place.Oh. We were still sitting in a car, outside of Joe Louis Arena. For a moment, just the taste of his mouth, the reminder of how easily I responded to him, pushed my fear of the hours in front of them away.
Niklas eased our kiss, sliding his hand down my neck and over my shoulder. He broke off and rested his forehead on mine. “If I kiss you any longer, I’m going to embarrass both of us when I get out of the car.”
I smiled. “Or we could take care of that before we get out.”
“Fuck,” he groaned, chuckling. “Don’t say that kind of thing right now. It’s not helping.”
He let go of me and leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes. His broad chest rose and fell as he deliberately slowed his breath. I touched my cheeks, still hot with arousal. I forced my gaze up toward the arena, looking for something else to think about.
A car pulled up in the rows ahead of us. A guy Niklas’s size climbed out and headed for the nearest door to the arena. Another car entered the parking lot, but instead of heading for the clump of cars in front of them, the driver parked right next to ours. A guy got out and stretched his long body. He pushed his dark hair off his face and headed for Niklas’s side of the car.
The guy rapped on the glass. Niklas opened his eyes and muttered something in Swedish. He rolled down his window.
“I didn’t know you were coming, man,” said the guy. “I thought you weren’t with us anymore.”
“It’s a last-minute thing,” said Niklas without much warmth.
The guy rubbed the stubble over his jaw and bent down, looking over at me. His smile grew, and he stared at me, his eyes slowly moving down my body, as if this kind of encounter usually worked in his favor. I swallowed.
“You gonna introduce me to your friend here? Or did I interrupt something?”
My face flushed, and I looked down at Niklas’s clenched fists.
“Fuck off, Bauer,” Niklas growled.
Bauer.The guy who had actually hit the woman Niklas had been seen with. The guy who had thanked Niklas for taking the blame. Now he smiled, looking unfazed by Niklas’s clear anger.
I struggled to steady my voice. “I hear what you’re implying about me, and you’re way off-base,” I said, my voice much more controlled than I felt.
