Page 51 of Holiday Crush

“I was not living the high life,” I corrected.

“But you were traveling—”

“On buses and staying in midrate hotels or dumps. The Sea Snappers are a super minor league team. My biggest perk was that I made enough not to need a second job. Not all that glamorous.”

“But it was professional hockey.”

I inclined my head. “Yeah, that was the cool part. I love the game, and that hasn’t gone anywhere. It’s just changed for me. That’s okay. I love being at the El Rink again. It’s been good for me. And you’ve been good for me, so…I’m not sure where you’re coming from with the terrible friend bullshit.”

“Okay, terrible is a stretch,” he replied haughtily. “But I can do better. If you want to talk about your career or what comes next, I’m here and I’m a great listener. You don’t have to worry that I’ll catch inconvenient feelings. Yes, I’ll miss you when you go, but friends cheer each other on. And I’m rooting for you, Court Henderson, so if you want to talk about hockey on a personal level—how you’re progressing or how your training is going—I’m here. That’s all.”

I was too stunned to formulate real words, and my jaw hung open for a beat. I snapped it shut, captured his face in my hands, and crashed my mouth over his in a searing kiss that was more of a lip mash than a sexy overture. Nonetheless, he looked as dazed as I felt when I released him.

And me? I felt like a king. It was unbelievably nice to have someone like Ivan on my side.

I twisted a wayward curl and pushed it behind his ear. “Thank you.”

He smiled. “You’re welcome. So…how is it really going?”

“Very well.”

“Tell me about it,” he cajoled.

“Well…okay. Vinnie’s a fucking machine. He might be forty-one, but he still skates circles around me, which is totally embarrassing. It’s been great for my stamina, though. Same with Riley. He’s closer to my age, but he’s like quicksilver on the ice. It’s hard to defend against him ’cause he’s a thinker and reads plays before they happen. He can tell from the tilt of my blade where I’m heading next, and it’s aggravating as fuck.Ishould be able to readhim. Big Red is like that too. He was home from college for the weekend and…”

I talked…and talked.

He probably hadn’t intended to unleash a torrent of every fucking thing going through my mind over the past few months, but he was kind enough to slip his hand in mine and just…listen. I told him what I’d learned, and the bad habits I still had to break. I’d become too cocky, too lazy. I’d relied on brute force when I should have been using my brain and over time, I’d chipped at my teammates’ confidence in my play.

Vinnie had shown me those old tapes and painstakingly worked with me on mechanics. I’d improved on my speed, my agility, and stick handling every day.

I jumped from the sofa at one point to demonstrate my new positioning techniques. I jutted my hips out, wrapping my fingers around a phantom stick, lamenting that my angles weren’t as sharp as they used to be. There really was nothing worse than sloppy stick handling.

“Maybe so, but I’ve honestly never had an issue with your stick handling, honey,” Ivan said matter-of-factly.

I snort-laughed, dragging him off the sofa and into my arms. I nuzzled his neck, blew raspberries till he howled, then threaded my fingers in his hair and kissed him fiercely, pouring every ounce of gratitude into the connection.

What was it about this guy? I walked into rooms carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders, and he banished my worries, slaying invisible dragons with a smile and a simple “How are you? Tell me. I want to know.”

I felt so…light with him, so free. My heart soared as if it had wings, and it beat so fast I was actually dizzy.

“You kind of dazzle me, Ive,” I whispered. “You might be an angel after all.”

Ivan beamed. “The good news is, I’m not as pure as the driven snow.”

“Thatisgood news.” I slipped my fingers under the elastic of his PJs and boxer briefs to squeeze his bare ass. “’Cause I want to be inside you right fucking now.”

He hummed, biting my bottom lip. “What about the trees?”

“Fuck the trees.”

And with that, I picked him up and carried him upstairs in a firefighter’s hold.

Ivan squawked indignantly when I smacked his ass and tossed him onto the middle of the mattress, and he promptly turned into a sex demon. No joke.

“Clothes off,” he barked, flinging his PJs, briefs, and T-shirt to the opposite end of the room before folding his black-striped duvet aside and hunting for supplies in his bedside table.

I obeyed, though I didn’t move as quickly. I couldn’t. I was too mesmerized by this sexy whirlwind. I’d stripped off my shirt, shoes, and socks as he climbed onto the bed, knees spread, presenting himself to me like a Christmas gift. My mouth went dry as I stepped out of my jeans and boxer briefs, my eyes locked on his puckered entrance.