“It’s not like it’s hard to look at your shoes and figure out your size. It’s a handy thing to know.”
“You plan on buying me shoes on a regular basis?”
He’s pulling the laces tight on the first skate. “Maybe. And it came in handy now, didn’t it?”
I stare down at him—well, to be quite honest, he’s so tall that I’m not really looking far down at him, even though he’s kneeling. “Are you for real, Jordan Atkinson?” I say it quietly, not meaning for him to hear.
He pauses, his hand on my other calf, warm and making electricity zing up and down my leg. I want someone to walk in this arena so I have an excuse to lean over, pull his face to mine, and kiss him. But I also want to have that moment for ourselves. To kiss him without it being a performance for someone else.
“It’s easy to say, Libby,” he replies softly. “But I’m not like those guys who hurt your clients.” I don’t answer before he starts lacing up the second skate.
When he’s finished, he pulls me up, keeping both my hands in his, and guides us away from the bench and out onto the ice. He skates backwards, pulling me along with him. I’m not even really skating, just staying upright and gripping his hands.
We skate like that for several moments in silence, me looking down at my feet and concentrating on not falling on my butt.
“Ready to actually skate?” he asks.
“Iamskating.”
He laughs. He lets go of one of my hands, making me flail, but a second later he’s smoothly slipped around me to put his hands securely at my waist. I swallow back a gasp at the heat in his touch.
Then he presses his body against my back.
“Follow my lead,” he says calmly—how can he be so calm?!“Right leg, left leg,” he murmurs, moving his legs in tandem with mine. We skate toward the goal at the far end of the ice. “Try to relax, Lib,” he says. “I’ve got you.”
Like me being unable to relax is about thinking I’m going to fall. How in the world could I fall with him holding me as close as he is, his chest against my back, his strong legs right behind mine?
The only danger here is that I’m going to fallfor him.
“You’re fine,” he says in a melodic voice, and I force myself to melt into him, even though it goes against every instinct I have to protect my heart.
I’ve got you.
I believe him.
When we reach the net, we make an arc behind it, heading toward the other end of the rink. Jordan gives praise like “you’re doing great” and “just like that” in a calm, soft voice. Though he towers over me, he’s curved his body around me so that he’s speaking against my cheek.
We reach the other net, and he pulls away, allowing cold air from the rink to swirl between us. I shiver. Holding my hand, Jordan moves to my side.
“Now your turn.” His voice is husky. He doesn’t look at me as he leads me, now skating close to my side, but letting me skate on my own.
I definitely prefer it the way we were doing it before, and Jordan’s reactions say he does too.
By the time we’ve skated back to the other side again, I know I have to get us out of this situation before something happens that we can’t take back.
I stop behind the net and put my hand on the board next to me. “We’re going to be late for dinner if we don’t head out soon.”
“Oh, right,” he says, dropping my hand and circling the net swiftly a couple times like he’s running away from something. “Yeah, we should go.” He comes back to my side. “Want to try skating on your own on the way back?”
It’s a good idea, since any more touching is probably going to make me combust. “Yeah. Sure.”
“I’ll be right here the whole time,” Jordan promises, sticking to my side as we come out from behind the net. “I won’t let you fall.”
I think it might be too late.
CHAPTER 21
JORDAN
