Icing the Puck (New York Empires Book 2) (8 page)

“That’s no excuse,” he said. “There are rinks all over Texas.”

She didn’t release her death grip on his arms but did try to stay upright. She stood that way for exactly two seconds before her feet, of their own accord and through no effort on her part, flew out from under her. Brody caught her full weight again, holding her close as she growled in irritation.

His chuckle didn’t help her embarrassment, but the fact that his arms were around her went a long way toward making her feel okay about her inability to stand on her own. In fact, she rather liked the excuse to have his arms around her. She leaned into him, savoring the solid strength of his big body, even though doing so was risky.

“How did you learn to skate?” she asked as they adjusted their stance.

He shifted to holding her with one arm around her waist, keeping her tight to his side but with enough room for her to stand mostly on her own. Her ankles wobbling, she made an attempt at a step forward. When she didn’t fall, she tried another step. Not exactly skating, but at least she was staying on her feet this time. Sort of. With a lot of help from Brody.

“My dad took us to the rink,” he said as they slowly made their way across the smooth, glossy surface. “First time when we were ten. We’d been getting into a few too many dust ups with other kids, and he was trying to find us a sport to channel our energies.”

“You were fighting even as a child?” She wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about that. He was so full of emotion, it still amazed her.

He held her a little tighter as she wobbled again. When she didn’t fall, she grinned up at him in triumph. His answering look sent tingles of awareness across her skin. She looked away quickly to concentrate on her breathing and on keeping her hands cool.

“We got picked on a lot,” he said, his tone easy and relaxed.

“You got picked on? Who would be stupid enough to do that?”

She smiled at his bark of laughter. She might worry about the intensity of his emotions, but she did love hearing him laugh.

“Connor and I were pretty gangly and awkward when we were kids—growing so fast our bodies had trouble adjusting and staying coordinated. There were a lot of clumsy moments. And Connor was… He wasn’t as outgoing as I was. The bullies tended to go after him first.”

“And you jumped in to defend him,” she guessed. So he’d been like this his entire life, the one to jump into a fight to save a brother. The story explained a lot about him. “What happened?”

He shrugged, as if it weren’t a bad memory. “We got into a lot of fights. Ridiculous fights that rarely resulted in anything worse than bloody noses, but it happened so often my parents knew they had to do something about it. Connor and I were so much bigger than the other kids, my parents were afraid we’d end up really hurting someone.”

“But you were the ones being picked on! Why didn’t anyone stop the bullies?”

“Oh, they worked on that part, too. Lot of suspensions from school handed out, that kind of thing.” He waved away the bullies as if they were nothing. “But as far as my parents were concerned, what Connor and I really needed was an outlet for our energy. And maybe something that would help us adjust to our lanky bodies. My dad thought skating, and hockey, might do the trick. Give us a team sport, a safe place to go, and a way to train some coordination into us.”

She wanted to comfort the little boy that had to fight to defend himself and his twin brother. Before she could consider how to do that, though, the balance she’d managed to maintain for a full five minutes abandoned her and she slipped again.

She clung to Brody like a life line as he wrapped her up in arms, pulling her up flush against his chest. This close thoughts of kid bullies fled. All she could think about was how good he smelled, how near he was, how easy it would be to kiss him.

A group of teenagers skated past just then, hooting and whistling. “Kiss her! Kiss her, dude!”

She winced and felt her cheeks heating. Brody just smiled as he helped her regain her footing.

But before she could put any distance between them, he leaned in close and said, “I think those kids had a good idea.”

He kissed her softly, just a gentle brush of lips, but she felt the contact all the way through her body, tingling along her nerves, sparking very dangerous heat.

She resisted the urge to melt against him, to take the kiss deeper, only because her hands inside her gloves were feeling a little too warm. The reminder that she still hadn’t mastered control of her fire had her easing away, reluctantly.

They made their way in slow, shuffling increments to the exit when the announcement came up that their session on the ice was coming to an end. She continued to cling to him around the edge of the rink. For balance she told herself. Not because she desperately wanted to stay in his arms.

As they laughed and stumbled to the break in the wall—and freedom from the demon ice skates—Ann realized she was in deep with Brody now. She liked him. A lot. And it was getting harder and harder to resist doing something about those feelings.

She still couldn’t invite him up to her apartment, though. She wasn’t ready for sex, despite being more than a little desperate to take Brody to bed. Their goodnight kisses left her reeling, almost drunk with need, and she wanted him more than any other man she’d ever met.

She’d only risked sex twice in her life, and both times had been bad because she’d had to suppress her emotions and reactions to keep from catching the sheets on fire. She didn’t want that with Brody, not when she was so sure they could be good together. Every time he kissed her only confirmed that.

Until she was more sure of her control, though, she didn’t dare relax. And if she couldn’t relax fully, she’d only disappoint them both.

He helped her remove her skates, a process which had her entire body tingling. He knelt on one knee on the padded ground in front of the bench where she sat, unlacing her boots, his big fingers working the skate loose with ease. Her breathing sped up. God, having his hands on her legs was like a kind of torture. Having him remove even something as innocuous as footwear felt like a seduction, a promise of what could be. When he looked up at her from his position, his lips lifted in that knowing smile, she felt the look all the way to her core.

She held her hands in her lap, her grip tight, and concentrated on her breathing so she didn’t start a fire she still didn’t know how to stop. Her leg muscles were aching, her ankles sore from attempting something she’d never done before. The November air was brisk and sharp, the ice rink behind them adding an additional chill. And none of it was a match for the heat in Brody’s eyes.

Brody walked her to her building door after treating her to a scrumptious Indian meal and this time she felt no awkwardness or hesitance before he kissed her. She fell into his arms, hungry for a sense that this could work, that they could share the passion she wanted with him without disaster. She savored his taste, the feel of his strong arms wrapped around her, the hard press of his big body against hers. Her stomach danced with needy anticipation and without meaning to, she ground herself against him, wanting to feel every inch of him.

The tell-tale twitch in his pants proved he was as affected by their kiss as she was, but it was a warning she forced herself to heed. Reluctantly, she eased back, not out of his arms, but far enough she could look up at him.

“Thanks for such a wonderful day,” she murmured.

“It doesn’t have to end.”

He cupped her cheek in his big hand, his leather glove feeling deliciously erotic against her skin. She swallowed hard. Oh how she wanted to invite him in. But she just didn’t dare yet.

“I… I need more time,” she said.

She braced herself for his disappointment, or his arguments. She fully expected him to push the issue because most men had with her in the past. She was prepared with excuses, things she hoped would be reasonable enough he wouldn’t dump her.

If he did, she knew they weren’t meant to be. A man who couldn’t wait on sex wasn’t worth her time. But it would hurt with this man.

To her relief, he didn’t do any of the things she dreaded. He just nodded, with that very slight, sexy smile tugging at his lips, and he kissed her again. Her pulse thumped hard at the seductive sweep of his tongue and delicious pressure of his lips against hers. She was panting by the time he straightened away, and afraid she’d throw caution to the wind and invite him up anyway.

Before she could, he brushed her cheek with one gloved finger then wished her a quiet goodnight.

She watched him walk away, standing just inside the lobby while she made sure he got a taxi, then she closed the door. Her relief was tempered by a surprising amount of disappointment—not at his respecting her wishes but at her own inability to do what she so desperately wanted to do with him.

Closing her eyes, she knocked her head gently against the wooden door, then turned up the stairs. She’d never wanted to be normal so badly in her entire life.

Brody watched the swirling crowds of formally dressed party goers as he hunted for Ann and pretended to sip at his flute of Champaign. The exhibition game supporting the Special Olympics had gone really well that day, and despite his brutal hangover, he’d thoroughly enjoyed himself.

He really shouldn’t have gotten involved in a drinking contest with his Nordic and Russian teammates. But they’d laid down a challenge, and some of the American and Canadian players had risen to the fight. He’d expected to do better—given his size he usually handled alcohol well—but the Russians brought out the vodka, and he’d been a goner. His only consolation was that he’d lasted longer than the Canadians.

But even with a dodgy stomach and a fuzzy head, he’d had a fantastic time during the exhibition. Now he was very much looking forward to seeing Ann all dressed up for the party. He was wearing the requisite tux—one Connor had helped him get when he’d first moved to New York—now all he needed was the beautiful woman on his arm. And only one woman would do.

When he finally spotted her, he felt his mouth drop open. Stunned was understating his reaction.

She was gorgeous in her dark blue dress, the cut modest, but the silk material skimmed her curves in a sinful seduction. She’d pulled her hair up into a loose bun on top of her head, making her neck look long and incredibly kissable. And her mouth, that gorgeous, sexy mouth of hers… She smiled when she saw him and the look went right to his cock. He had to swallow to wet his suddenly dry throat.

Had any woman ever looked so beautiful?

He handed off his mostly full glass to a passing waiter and went to join her, meeting her halfway because she was like a magnet he couldn’t resist. For a long moment, he couldn’t even find words to greet her he was so overwhelmed by her.

Finally, he blinked and made an effort to untie his tongue. “You look gorgeous,” he said.

Her cheeks turned a charming shade of pink. “Thank you. You do too. You clean up well.”

He straightened his lapels and made a show of preening at her compliment—only partly pretending at his pleasure.

“How did the exhibition game go?”

“It was great. Everyone enjoyed themselves. Thanks to my hangover, a kid half my size dropped me on my ass with a very clever check.”

“Were you OK?” she asked through a grin.

“Only hurt my pride. But he was so pleased with himself, it was worth it. He’ll be talking about that for years.”

“You’re a good man, Brody Evans.”

He barked out a laugh that made a clump of his teammates frown at him. He ignored them because he was too thrilled with Ann.

“I wondered if you’d be hungover today,” she said.

He winced as he led her across the room to get her a glass of wine. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

The challenge with his teammates had been a spontaneous thing and on a night when he and Ann hadn’t had any plans to talk. Which apparently hadn’t stopped him from drunk dialing her. Twice.

She chuckled as he handed her a glass. “Do you have any idea what you said to me?”

“No.” He cringed. “Do I want to know?”

She laughed outright then. He loved the sound enough to face his own embarrassment.

“You were very cute. Kept telling me how much you like me and how pretty I am. There was a lot of ribbing from other men going on in the background, from what I could hear.”

He closed his eyes. “Damn.”

“I didn’t mind. Even if you did wake me up at three in the morning with the second call.”

“Ah, hell.” He scrubbed a hand over his face.

“I would have preferred your teammates didn’t hear how much you like my ass, though.”

His groaned. “I didn’t.”

“You did.”

“Fuck. That’ll teach me to go drinking with the Russians.”

She laughed again, which made all the humiliation worthwhile.

She rose on her toes, bracing one hand on his chest, and kissed his cheek. “It’s OK. I like that you like my ass.”

His heart rate tripled. The feel of her warm palm against his chest was like a brand. Her scent filled his head. She’d added a very faint perfume to her already delicious spicy scent and the combination was more intoxicating than the vodka had been last night. He wanted to bury his face against her skin and hunt out all the soft, warm spots where she’d applied that perfume.

He stared at her as she eased down and his hands twitched with the need to cup the aforementioned beautiful ass. Her expression turned serious. Her breathing increased, drawing his gaze to her breasts, so nicely framed in silk. His imagination filled with images of slipping that silk down, tasting all the pale skin he exposed, drawing her nipple into his mouth… He blinked and forced his gaze up to her face. In time to see her wet her lips with a quick flick of her tongue. His control almost broke.

“We should probably talk about something else,” she said, her voice husky.

“Yes.” He swallowed hard. “And we should walk.”

She nodded and bit her bottom lip. He closed his eyes briefly and tried now to growl out loud.