AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Hurry hard.
Hurry hard.
Hard.
Harder.
Harder.
Harder.
Hard—
Dax looks over at me, as if I’m emitting pheromones that signify that I’m seconds away from having a curling-induced orgasm right here on the ice. His fingers flex against his broom.Oh god, those fingersand all the magical wonders they are capable of. I’m mentally calculating the size of the supply closet and the odds of Larry doing his nightly check of the locker rooms if Dax and I were to slip away, while also simultaneously staring at the second hand of the black-and-white analog clock hanging above the gallery windows, secretly wondering if, in addition to parallel-universe travel, I’ve also been gifted the ability to manipulate time. I have not. If anything, the clock seems to move slower.Tick. Tick. Tick. I’m waiting for theboom.
I am the boom.
No. The boom is the clashing of Dougie’s rock against our opponent’s. Hard and fast, it slams the stone toward the outer ring, then spins in a slow twirl off in the opposite direction. Dougie has completely messed up his shot. Or maybe this was the new plan, and I missed it.
“Sweep,” Dougie yells at me as Dax and I part to tend our respective rocks. I brush my broom back and forth, pouring all my pent-up angst into the motion until the rock clears the house.
When I compose myself enough to look up, Dax is sliding his way back to our end of the ice, and my seventy-year-old opponent is watching me, eyebrows raised.
“Looking a little flushed there, honey.” She makes a point of looking at Dax, then back at me before winking. It’s ago get ’em tigerkind of a wink, and I want to tell herI would if I could.
“Had to put my back into that one.” I bring my hand to my hip as if that makes the lie believable.
“I’d save a little for later if I were you.” She glides past me, and her gaze flicks to the scoreboard.
It continues to be a nail-biter of a game.
We end up tied four-all at the tenth and final end, with one rock left to throw.
Mine.
Old Gemma would be freaking the fuck out right now.
But this Gemma can’t tear her eyes from Dax as she glides back to our end of the ice.
He’s talking to Dougie. But as I approach, Dougie slides off and heads down to the other end to help call the next shot.
Dax moves to meet me at the hack, and the part of me that has yet to be fully taken over by hormones expects a pep talk.
Dax absolutely hates to lose and takes curling far more seriously than one should ever take a sport that’s dominated by senior citizens. I’m prepared for explicit instructions on how andwhere he wants me to put my rock, but as he slows to a stop in front of me, he lands just a little too close. His eyes slide over my body as if he’s mentally deciding in what order he intends to remove my clothes later tonight.
“Hey.”
It’s just one word. But the way that he says it has me absolutely certain that the next ones out of his mouth are not going to be about curling.
“I was thinking, after the game. We could maybe head back to my pla—”
“Yes,” I answer before he finishes, and he smiles. The sex-face gives me away again.
“You look really good tonight,” he says.
I’m wearing leggings and a massive hoodie because the arena is freaking cold. Still, Dax’s eyes are on the tiny patch of collarbone where my neckline is a bit stretched out, and the way his eyes linger makes me wonder if tomorrow morning I’m going to need to wear a turtleneck.
There’s an impatient clearing of the throat from Brandon, who is quietly waiting for us to cease the eye-fucking and throw the last rock. It’s not the worst idea. The quicker the game is over, the faster we get out of here. Dax turns and glides over to where Brandon is waiting to sweep.
