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“Is she your first pairs partner?”
He tips his head a little, his easy smile faltering. “I had a different partner in high school. We started skating together when we were thirteen. But, uh, things got complicated.”
“Sounds like there’s a story in there.”
“There is.” He skates away from me and does a spin.
I never realized figure skaters could be so damn hot. “But you’re not going to tell me?”
“Not today. It’s a downer, and we can’t go back and change the past. All we can do is learn from our mistakes and try not to make the same ones twice.” He skates a circle around me. “What about you? How long have you been playing hockey?”
I shrug. “Since I learned how to skate, I guess. When I was a kid, we had this neighbor with five sons. As soon as the lake froze, they would set up nets and play. I ended up with their hand-me-down skates and fell in love with the sport. It’s my happy place. My escape.” I motion to the empty rink. “Why don’t you show me your best moves?”
“I can’t show them all to you at once. Then how will I entice you back onto the ice with me?” His eyebrows dance on his forehead, but he breaks away and skates down the ice, gaining speed. I don’t know the names of the moves, but I’ve watched enough skating competitions over the years to know he’s damn good. He does the splits in midair, then finishes with a backflip.
I break into applause, bringing my fingers to my lips and whistling my appreciation. He skates back to me, bowing on the way. Then he snags my hand and wraps an arm around my waist, twirling me around the ice before he stops in the center of the rink.
“How was that?” he asks, breath coming in pants.
His arm still circles my waist, our other hands clasped. There’s no space between our bodies. I’m damn glad we’re not wearing hockey equipment, because it means I feel all those hard lines pressed against mine. His eyes move over my face, his smile warm and real and infectious. A lock of hair has escaped his topknot, and it skims his cheek.
“You put the x in sexy.”
His smile widens. “I’m sweaty, and I probably smell bad.”
I point to my chest. “Hockey player. Nothing beats the funk of dirty hockey equipment.”
“That’s the truth.” His gaze drops to my mouth. “If I wasn’t disgusting right now, I’d think about kissing you. Well, I’m already thinking about kissing you, but my current state keeps me from acting on that impulse.” His fingers flex on my waist.
Butterflies unleash in my stomach. It’s been a while since I’ve been kissed. And I don’t think I’ve ever felt this kind of magnetic attraction to someone. I don’t really know BJ—don’t know what makes him tick apart from skating—but the chemistry we share is hard to ignore. “What if I don’t care about your current state?”
His tongue sweeps along his bottom lip. “I had this all planned out in my head, you know.”
“Oh? How did it go in your head?”
“We’d have a great time on the ice together. And every time you’d smile”—he bites his lip—“it would give me an emotional boner.”
I bark out a laugh and shove his chest, but he captures my hand in his. “What the hell is an emotional boner?”
“It’s a real thing. It’s how I feel every time I make you smile or laugh. Like my emotions are all excited and can’t be contained.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“I find you fascinating. You scramble my brain and make me say ridiculous things like emotional boner.” He brushes his lips over my knuckles.
How that simple contact makes all the important, needy parts of my body zing when he’s talking about boners is a wonder. But I can’t stop smiling, and all I want is for him to keep touching me and talking. Even if it’s about nonsense.
“Hey, Balls! I thought you were done at three!” a male voice booms across the ice.
“Fuck a duck.” BJ purses his lips. “I’m going to shave a horseshoe into his head.”
He kisses the back of my hand one last time before he releases me. He looks down and makes a face. “Good thing I didn’t wear gray sweats or this would be embarrassing.” He spins around. “Hey, Mav. Anyone ever tell you that you have impeccably bad timing?”
Maverick’s eyes widen as BJ moves to the right and I come into view.
I can’t even imagine what my expression must be. My face feels hot. Along with other parts.
Maverick grins, apparently oblivious to the tension. “Hey, Winter! Are your ears burning?”
