Page 43 of Something Like That

Like that was an option.

She twisted her head back a little further, needing to feel his lips on hers again. Closer and closer he came.

And then finally, his lips touched hers.

It was the barest hint of a kiss, just a brush of their mouths, but it sent a shockwave through her. He wrapped his free arm around her waist, pulling her back flush against his front. Electricity crackled in her veins, and she half sighed and half moaned.

She felt him smile against her mouth, and part of her wanted to pull away in a huff, maybe give him a smack on the arm for being such an amused fool. But the sane part of her won out, and instead, she sunk back against him, parting her lips in another silent invitation.

He made a growling noise deep in his chest and slid his tongue into her mouth. His addictive taste burst across her tongue. She felt drunk. It was so good.

Her neck felt cramped and strained in this position, but she didn’t care. She did care, however, that in this position, she couldn’t reach back and touch him properly. Couldn’t reach up and wrap her arm around his neck, couldn’t sift her fingers through his silky hair.

A frigid gust of wind blew through, carrying a flood of stinging, icy raindrops along with it. She pulled away from his lips, feeling heavy and achy. How did it take him so little time to turn her inside out?

“We should probably head in.” Her voice sounded breathless and shaky.

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.” At least his voice held the same breathless quality. “Before I toss you over my shoulder and drag you into the backseat of the car and have my way with you.”

That tight, hot band of lust that had spent the last week hanging out low in her belly, throbbed. No, she was not turned on by that incredibly inappropriate and extremely hot comment. And no, she absolutely did not want to take him up on the offer.

“Hi, Coach.”

She jumped at the high, squeaky voice, and twisted back around. He relaxed his grip on her waist but didn’t let go.

“Hey, Chelsea.” She waved at the little girl walking toward the door, dragging a large hockey bag behind her. Chelsea’s mom, Shelly, who was walking behind her, hauling a baby carrier, smiled. It was the kind of friendly-yet-judgey smile that said I’m trying to be polite, but I don’t agree with whatever it is you’re doing.

Her cheeks burned, heat crawling through her face and trickling down to her chest. She tightened her grip on her bag.

He made a noise in the back of his throat. It was a disgusted sort of noise, like he’d caught Shelly’s look and didn’t think too highly of it. “She’s just jealous because her husband probably hasn’t touched her since they conceived that baby.” His words were low enough so only she could hear them.

She rolled her lips in, barely holding back the laugh that bubbled up her throat. A squeaky, unladylike noise managed to escape. She faked a cough and cleared her throat, hoping Shelly bought the cover. Alex raised her hand and waved. Because the situation wasn’t awkward enough.

Shelly stared at them for a few more judgey moments and then hurried to catch up with her daughter.

Alex slid her hand along the arm he still had around her waist and squeezed his hand. “Come on. We don’t want to be late.” She interlaced their fingers.

He didn’t pull away, stayed right beside her as they made their way toward the door. She’d never admit it out loud, but she liked the feel of him there. It had been forever since she’d felt like she was able to lean on anyone. In her experience, everyone always ended up letting you fall, so it was better to not let yourself lean in the first place.

Maybe with him, things would be different. They were both strong. Strong enough to hold the other person up if they needed to, while also keeping themselves safe and protected. It could work.

The fact she was even contemplating this stuff freaked her out so much, she refused to think about it anymore. No matter how much her heart ached at the idea of giving up so easily.

That was the problem with hope. It always let you down in the end.

Nick gave the laces on his skates a yank, tightening them to the point where it almost made his foot ache. The perfect amount.

His entire body felt light and anxious, his nerves and muscles jumping with excitement. The air was saturated with the smell of crisp, cold ice, which was hard to describe. But one thing was certain, it smelled like home.

When Alex had texted him, asking him if he had his skates with him—like he’d actually go anywhere without his skates—a little kernel of hope had taken root in his chest.

He’d been on skates since his surgery, but the workouts had been very light and non-contact, which meant no twisting, pivoting or crossovers. Basically, it had been gliding laps around the rink. Nothing exciting, but honestly, at the time, he’d just been glad to be able to skate at all. For a while there, he’d been afraid he’d never get back on the ice again.

He pushed himself up to a standing position, the slight ache in his feet invigorating. Yeah, he was weird. But it was just so fucking amazing.

Alex, who was sitting next to him, finished tightening her laces and stood as well. He liked the fact she was so tall. It made kissing her that much easier. Which he was not thinking about right now, because that would lead to things that were highly embarrassing when out in public.

To distract himself, he wandered through the small lobby. The rink was on the small side, as well as the old side. It looked well-kept in some areas, but also a touch shabby in others.