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Easy, Zane. Don’t blow this.
“Then again, you can’t teach speed,” the asshole pressed onward. “Or flexibility. Or hand-eye coordination.” He paused to scratch at the back of his head. “Those things are gifts, I guess. Either you have them or you don’t.”
The words I could ignore, but it was the smile on this prick’s face that made me want to punish him in the worst possible way. I wanted to launch over the front of the machine and grab him by the head.
“And from what we’ve seen as a team…”
If I pressed hard enough, I could use his front teeth to carve my name into the ice.
“… I guess you don’t.”
I jumped down, landing nimbly in front of him. I could see in his eyes that he wasn’t expecting it. But he dropped back into a fighting stance anyway.
“There you go, loser,” Devin or Devon chided snidely. He tapped his ugly bearded chin with a gloved finger. “Go on. Take your shot.”
I reached out with one hand… but instead of grabbing him, I pushed past and detached the nearest goalpost from its moorings. I had to take the nets down before the Zamboni stalled out. And if there was one thing I was sure of, it would stall out.
“Yeah,” he chuckled. “That’s what I thought.”
I watched as he skated away; a giant dick holding a garishly-painted goalie mask and wearing overpriced pads. He was a douche for sure, maybe even the king of all douches. But he had one thing I didn’t have, and the both of us knew it:
A starting spot on the River Kings.
~ 6 ~
ARIANA
We’d barely cleared the door to my apartment when the kissing began again. They were hot kisses. Fast kisses. A bit clumsy at times, maybe even a little sloppy too. But they were kisses nonetheless. And for that reason alone, I was happy to have them.
You need this, I reminded myself. Remember?
Yes, I did remember. And I was reminded even more sharply as my date spun me around and spooned into me from behind.
Mmmmm…
“Hang on, let me get the ligh—”
My sentence ended in a gasp as he buried his face into my neck, and for a glorious few seconds it felt indescribably good. His hands slid past my hips. They locked firmly together, somewhere just below my navel. A second or two later, they were slipping someplace even lower.
“Hey,” I chuckled. “Easy…”
My date with Garth had been cute, and that was the only real way to describe it. He was a little nervous, but his anxiousness came off as endearing. He fumbled a few things here and there, but he messed up in all the right places.
We’d had an Italian dinner, and stopped for drinks at an Irish pub. The conversation was light, and although it never steered too far from hockey, that was okay. Hockey was common ground for us — something we were both familiar with. Besides, this wasn’t a job interview. It was only a first da—
“EASY,” I said again, lifting his hands a little.
Garth spun me around once more, and the kissing began anew. It was much more urgent now, though. Less refined. Less…
Hot?
His hands settled over both cheeks of my ass. I sighed involuntarily, letting them rest there even after he squeezed. It had been way too long since I had someone’s hands on my ass. I wanted to enjoy them.
“Let me just—”
I freed my arm up long enough to toss my keys on the table. They clattered, skidded across the surface, then fell to the floor. Garth didn’t even hear them, but it triggered my OCD to see them resting there.
Ah, fuck it. Who cares?
