“Why wouldn’t it be?” She pulls at the hem of her shirt.
I look around the rink, making sure it’s still just the two of us. “You were late. I don’t think I’ve ever beat you here.” I try to make it sound like a joke.
“Relax,” she says, pulling her hair into a loose ponytail. “College kids are late all the time.”
I stare at her. Kind of waiting for an apology or an explanation. But neither of those things come.
Coralee Banks does a lot of things. Being late isn’t one of them.
She notices me looking and rolls her eyes slightly. “It’s not that big of a deal, Lane. I’m good.” She puts on a practiced smile, one that doesn’t reach her eyes.
I don’t answer right away because she’s right. It’s not a big deal. Not really. No need to alert the authorities because she was fifteen minutes late to extra school work. But the way she says it feels like someone swapped her out for a version of herself that doesn’t care. Even after I picked her up from the bar last week, she was clearly upset.
This feels like nothing. And that’s the part that makes something in my chest tighten.
Cora opens the tablet and glances at something on the screen.
“Okay,” she sighs. “What drill are we on today?”
I glance out at the ice, waiting for her instruction. Typically, this is something she’d already know and be yelling out at me, stopwatch at the ready.
Today she just leans back against the boards like she’s watching a pickup game.
“I think we’re starting at the blue line today. Backhand shots.”
I skate out to where she asks me to and wait for her cue for me to start.
“How many times?”
She sighs out a breath, scrolling through her file on the tablet. “Thirty.”
I do what she asks. Skating from the blue line and backhanding it into the unguarded net. I keep track in my head, and when I’ve done it thirty times, I skate back to the bench.
“What’s next?” I ask while grabbing a drink from my water bottle.
Her icy blue eyes snap to mine and there’s a flicker of the spark I’m used to seeing. She puts the tablet on the bench and then stands in front of me. Her arms loop around my neck; before I can clock what’s next, she’s kissing me. Her lips are soft but needy. She moans into my mouth and I can’t help the way my hands pull her closer to me.
She teases me with her tongue, licking at the seam of my lips.
I part them before I can even think about it. Her tongue slips against mine, slow and testing, and the soft sound she makes in the back of her throat sends a rush of heat straight through my chest. My hands slide to her waist automatically, gripping the sides of her hips as I pull her closer until she’s pressed against me.
“Cora—” I start, but the word disappears when she kisses me again, harder this time. Like I’m the breath she’s trying to catch.
Her fingers tighten in the back of my hair as she tilts her head, deepening the kiss, and I feel the way her body melts into mine. The cold air of the rink bites at the back of my neck, but everywhere she touches is warm.
My thumb brushes along the curve of her waist and she shivers against me. That little reaction almost kills me.
I drag my mouth from hers for a second, my breath uneven. Her lips are flushed, slightly swollen, and her eyes are darker than I’ve ever seen them.
“We shouldn’t do this here,” I mutter, eyes glancing around the rink, making sure it’s just us.
Cora pouts when I grab her hands and pull them from my neck. Then a wicked smile paints her lips.
“Then let’s get out of here.” She tips her head towards the exit.
I press my lips together, not believing the next thing I’m about to say. “What about the rest of the skate? We only did one rep.”
She playfully rolls her eyes, grabbing her bag and slinging it over her shoulder. “Consider today’s data session over. I’ve got other plans for you.” Cora points a finger in my chest.
