Page 12

Chapter Twelve

“In today’s fast-paced world of professional hockey, maintaining focus is paramount.” Renegades Rinkside Report

Boh

The Killbillies sat well ahead of the Danger Dolls in points, but when they lined up for the last run, I shouted just as loud as the rest of the spectators. The building pulsed with energy, as intense as any arena I’d ever played in.

One of the loudest voices came from right behind the team chairs. Scout, Novy’s friend from Brightside and granddaughter of the Renegades owner, stood with her own set of crutches, her hands cupped around her mouth as she hollered at her teammates.

When Novy went down to her hip after a hit from one of the bigger Danger Dolls, Scout forgot her crutches and screamed at the referee. I shot to my feet again, heart pounding, eyes on Novy. She leapt back up onto her skates, slapping her ass as though slapping away the dust, her eyes focused on one of the Danger Dolls, her mouth moving as she called something out that got lost in the noise of the gym.

I added my own angry bellow toward the ref. “Foul! Foul play! C’mon, ref!”

As if I knew the rules and what constituted a foul in a derby game. My gaze bounced between Novy and Scout. Scout’s reactions would tell me what I needed to know. When the ref lodged her hands on her hips and shouted something at Scout, I fought the urge to go down there. She argued back, arms flying, angry words filtering up in my direction. Something about an illegal elbow hit, but from the look on the ref’s face, she wasn’t backing down.

But then, neither was Scout. She flapped one of her crutches like a broken wing at her side, lost her balance and toppled backward onto the bench. I shifted, ready to offer an assist, when one of her teammates took up position right in front of her, hands on her hips, a stern expression leaving little to the imagination.

“That’s Scooter. She got injured at a practice not too long ago, I heard, so she can’t run, but her and Novocaine are BFFs.” The woman beside me nodded down toward Scout and gave me a reassuring smile. “They’ll make sure she doesn’t kill herself.”

I gave her an uneasy smile back, but then shifted out of the way as people started to descend the bleachers.

The competition had ended, despite Scout’s protest. But according to the scoreboard, the Killbillies had decimated the visiting team, so maybe the controversy didn’t matter in the end.

I sat back and waited for the crowd to thin as the teams met with their fans, shaking hands and giving out hugs. I studied Novy’s warm smile through the shifting bodies. She’d sweated off most of her make-up, but still looked amazing. Sexy, athletic. Highly fuckable.

A few minutes later, the teams moved back toward the locker room and I used the time to navigate down the bleachers. Going down on crutches proved impossible and I ended up sitting on my ass, heaving myself from bench to bench until I hit the ground. I crutch-walked outside, sucking in the fresh air and sunshine.

The pace and intensity of Novy’s game surprised me. A feeling close to adrenaline passed through me. Was this the passion Renegades fans experienced in the arena? I needed to get back on skates. To feel the pulse of the crowd, the thrill of shooting down the ice. The need burned at the back of my mind. Watching Novy’s intensity reminded me of my own love for playing. It was more than just the competition, more than the way the game challenged me mentally and physically.

I headed over to Novy’s car to avoid the spectators trickling out of the rec center. Less chance of being recognized the further I was from people. I leaned back against the side of the car, thumbing absently through Insta and the posts my teammates put up. Between the roller derby and the images of my fellow Renegades, the need to get back to normal hit me hard.

A few minutes later, I looked up to see Novy strolling toward me. She’d lost her derby costume, replaced by a pair of yoga pants and a T-shirt with the neck cut out so that it hung off one supple shoulder. Her caramel-colored hair was still up in a ponytail, but her face was washed clean of make-up.

She looked the same as she’d looked when I didn’t manage to avoid her all week. The thin material of the gray yoga pants pulling taut over her hips, the slope of her breasts lightly tanned and pure temptation.

She’d startled me with her derby outfit, revealing so much skin and her curves out for anyone to see. Her casual sensuality pulled at me. Made my dick twitch behind my zipper. Had me forgetting about restrictions and consequences and instead thinking about her sweet meruňka scent.

After pretending to be unaffected since the hallway close call, seeing her in action today, tested the tenuous command I had on my self-control. I fumbled to regain my hold on the crutches, wrapping my fingers around the handles in a death grip.

“Hey!” She stopped a couple feet in front of me, her face tilted up. “You made it through the whole bout.”

“Bout? Is that what you call a game?”

“Yep. What did you think?”

Her eyes on me did weird things to my gut. The skin between my shoulder blades tingled. I focused on the cement planter in the distance over her shoulder instead of being sucked in by her pretty eyes. “I was shocked.”

“Shocked? In a good way or a bad way?” She moved to the rear of the car and tossed her equipment bag in the trunk. At the driver’s side of the car, she shot me a look and unlocked the doors, watching as I shuffled my way into the passenger seat. She plopped behind the wheel and the Honda shrank. She felt too close. She’d showered after the match. Tiny strands of hair clung damply along her neck and above her ears. Her scent, fresh and clean and delectable, had me shifting in the seat.

“I saw you cheering, so I know the answer.”

I jerked my gaze back to the windshield in front of me. “Yeah,” I said, my voice coming out rough. “Not what I expected, but fucking impressive.”

She sighed, a happy sound that filled the cramped quarters of the car as she turned the ignition and headed us back to my apartment.

She spoke then, telling me about each of her teammates, some of the rules of the sport, amusing details about today’s bout. And surprisingly, I found myself listening, inviting her to expand when I had questions and pulling out more details. Her enthusiasm added another layer to the attraction building inside me.

Before my injuries, Novy would have been my dream woman. Between her thick curves, sweet but firm nature, and the adventurous competitiveness she’d demonstrated today, I would have been a goner.

Confusion filtered through me, attraction fogging over the irritability that had been my constant companion in recent weeks. A year ago, I would have made a play for Novy. Before the concussions, before the Aubrey spectacle, before the doctors warned me of the dangers of returning to hockey. Another hit, another bad fall, another slide into the boards, and I could be looking at more problems than just the end of my career. We hated talking about it as players, but chronic brain injuries were the specters we all dreaded.

Novy smelled like a spring meruňka orchard, and when she turned and tossed me a wide smile, her lips plump and pink and enticing, my pulse kicked into high gear. I wanted to shove aside all the voices saying why it was wrong to pursue her, forget my injuries and bury my head in the curve of her neck until I found the source of her sweet scent.

A year ago, I didn’t have these worries. A year ago, I would have kissed her. Hell, I would have kissed her even just a few weeks ago. I would have put myself into her schedule and learned what made her tick.

I should have kissed her last night in the hall.

Then I would know the silky smoothness of her skin, the taste of her lips. The feel of her hands on my body. I would know if the lingering looks she thought I didn’t notice would translate into interest, desire, want.

We passed into the resident parking of my building and silently made our way to the elevator. Usually, I swung my crutches in wide steps, outpacing her with speed. But today, I lingered. Trailed behind Novy, my eyes dropping to where the bag bounced against her hip and ass with every stride.

Inside the closed space of the elevator, her scent washed over me again. My senses heightened, dialed in to all things Novy. To the steady rise and fall of her chest, to the way her tongue poked out to moisten her lower lip.

Then her equipment bag slid from her shoulder and she turned to catch it and somehow she knocked against one of my crutches and I rocked back into the elevator wall. The heavy bag swung, unbalancing her further until she tumbled against my chest, the bag landing with a thump on the floor.

I dropped the crutches, my hands landing on her lush hips to steady her.

She didn’t push away from me. She tilted her face up to mine and her pretty eyes darkened, the pupils chasing away the blue. Her hands braced on my chest, burning through the fabric of my shirt, but still, she didn’t push away. I leaned down, brushed my nose against her temple, and inhaled a deep breath. The temptation of her skin captivated me. Sweet meruňka filled my head. Her scent would wrap around me if I moved closer. When she nuzzled against me, the warmth of her breath heated my blood, the delicate brush of her eyelashes on my skin dragging a groan from my lips. I lodged one hand at the base of her neck and brought her face up to mine. Her plush lower lip trembled and it was game over. I’d die if I didn’t taste her in the next minute.

One heartbeat at a time, this soft, gorgeous woman effortlessly unraveled my self-control. I crashed my mouth down on hers, sucking her lower lip between mine, savoring and tasting and taking.

She met me touch for touch, and hunger overrode my thoughts as I kissed her. Her hands fluttered over my chest, wiggling up to wind around my neck. I groaned, dragging her closer, twisting my fingers into her ponytail.

The chime on the elevator announced our arrival to the fifth floor. She jerked back, her lips forming my name, but I couldn’t hear a word through the buzz in my brain.

What the fucking hell had I done now?

As though she read my mind, she mumbled, “We shouldn’t have done that.”

Then she swept up her bag and ran to the apartment.