“You’re doing great,” I told him soothingly. “It must be disconcerting to do this holding my hands instead of a stick.”
His eyes flicked down to where we held hands. “I guess. I could pretend you’re a stick.”
I wasn’t sure that was supposed to be a joke, but I laughed anyway. I was in my favorite place, teaching someone something I adored, and my body kept tingling deliciously.
At the sound of my laughter, his lips twitched again, but he didn’t look up. I understood why, thanks to years of coaching.
“You’re looking at your feet,” I said, because I needed to say something that wasn’t about how wonderful his hands felt.
“My feet are the things I’m trying not to fall over with.”
“Look at me instead.”
He looked at me.
That was, in hindsight, not my best coaching advice.
Because Kardok looking at me while skating backwards in the quiet of my rink, his enormous hands wrapped around mine, his expression doing something complicated that I couldn’t name from this distance—that was a problem I hadn’t accounted for in any of my very thorough preparation notes.
Edges, I told myself firmly.Left crossover, right?—
“Better?” he asked. His voice had dropped slightly. I didn’t know if he’d meant it to.
“Yes,” I said, very professionally. “Much better.”
And I was delighted to discover it was the truth.
When Kardok looked atme—instead of the ice, or our hands, or our feet—his movements became smoother, more confident. I felt us both relaxing, and suddenly, the feel of our hands clasped together was less a novelty and more just…normal.
I exhaled, smiling up at him, and led him through the next turn.Normal. Gliding across my ice with my new pairs parter; a big, green, hockey player.
One whom, I was beginning to suspect, might be my favorite.
We moved together, spending the next hour practicing switching back and forth between who was leading and skating side by side.
He never once tried to drop my hand, and I didn’t even consider dropping his. I showed him a few basic turns, and he mimicked them so easily I suspected hockey players must do something like this regularly.
And through it all, he kept his focus onme. On my face. On my body, as if he could guess my move before I made it. I’d gone past tomato stage, on to firecracker, then sheer nuclear embarrassment…and somehow ended up back innormality. Comfort.
Yes, that was it.
By the end of our practice together, I wascomfortablewith Kardok the Wicked, something I never would have guessed would happen. To my surprise, I didn’t mind at all.
Not even a little bit.
Chapter Four
Kardok
I wasready to rip myKteerout of my chest, which would be difficult, considering I’d never heard it was a physical organ, and more like an instinct. Still, the fucking thing was driving me nuts, and I was more on edge than ever.
I’d agreed to do this exhibition in order to make up to the team for my lack of control…but I was beginning to think it was making things even worse. When I scrimmaged with the guys, I found myself taking more chances, acting even more aggressively on the ice than usual…and I figured Lila was to blame.
Lila, in those leggings she probably thought were just sportswear, but which made my mouth water each time she bent over to stretch. Lila, wearing my team’s colors. Lila, her little hand in mine so trustingly.
I told myself she was the daughter of a rich man, too prim and proper for the likes of me, but myKteerwasn’t listening. Any time I had to touch her during our practices, the damned thing went on high alert, and I was impressed she couldn’t hear it rumbling in my chest.
We’d been working together for four afternoons now, and despite our unsuitability and myKteer’sinsistence on making itself an annoyance, I had to admit that Lila and I had settled into an easy sort of partnership.
