Page 38 of Like a Power Play (Greenrock University: Icebound #1)

Twenty

Peyton

I ’m not much of a reader. Ever since I could walk, hockey’s been pretty much the only thing on my mind.

But last year, Bailey loved a book so much that she practically begged Harlowe and me to read it.

Harlowe flat-out refused, but I forced myself through it.

It wasn’t bad, really. It just wasn’t easy to focus when I kept thinking about all the time I could’ve spent practicing.

But it made Bailey happy, so I powered through.

I don’t remember the title or even the plot, honestly.

All I remember is that there were two people who hated each other…

and then they kissed. Why am I bringing this up?

Because it was bullshit. After that kiss, they fell to the ground, all desperately, turning into some messy, hot, wet bundle of. .. well, smut . Basically.

They had sex, is what I’m getting at.

Want to know what actually happens?

“I—umh—” I stutter as Darcy pulls herself off me, helping me to my feet.

Her freckled cheeks are flushed, lips still glistening in the pale light.

The back of my head tingles where her fingers had gripped my hair, my lips still throbbing with the heat of her kiss.

A kiss that was mine, until she stole it.

Until she turned it into hers. We both just stand there, blinking at each other awkwardly.

It’s not that it was a bad kiss.

In fact, it was everything I hoped it wouldn’t be.

I hoped it would be one of those awkward "whoops" moments you laugh about later. I hoped it would convince me that the weird tightening in my chest didn’t mean what I thought it did.

That the flutter in my stomach was just a result of too much caffeine and sugar, and not because I actually wanted to kiss her. That I wanted her to kiss me back.

Motherfucker.

“Sorry,” Darcy says, looking at me awkwardly. I’ve messed this up. I don’t know how, but I’ve messed it up. I’ve kissed a lot of people. Hell, I kissed Kai like four weeks ago. It’s always been fun. Easy. People say I’m good at it. But with Darcy? The beat’s been thrown off.

The moment my lips touched hers, I knew I was done for. It didn’t feel easy. It felt like the most terrifying thing I’ve ever done. It felt like a challenge, one I’m not quite sure I won. And it felt… good. Too good. And now, I have no fucking clue what to do.

I shake my head, heart pounding in my chest. “What? Why are you sorry?”

Darcy shrugs, making her way off the ice. “I don’t know.” She hitches a shoulder. “You just seem… upset. So I guess—”

“Upset?” I frown, staggering behind her. When Darcy first stepped back on the ice, she looked like a baby deer learning to walk for the first time. Now, guess who’s Bambi? “I’m not upset. I just… didn’t expect that.”

Darcy plops onto the bench, quickly untying her skates. Or, Harlowe’s skates. She’ll never know they were gone. Her eyes flick to meet mine, a confused “v” etched in her brow. “You’re the one who asked.”

I shrug sheepishly, bending down to untie my own skates because sitting next to her right now feels like the wrong move. If I sit next to her, I might want to kiss her again.

Who am I kidding? I want to kiss her again anyway.

“Yeah, I know,” I say hesitantly. What the hell is wrong with me? Darcy quirks a brow as she watches me fumble with my laces.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“What? No! ” I take off my beanie, running a hand through my hair. Why is it wet? “You didn’t do anything wrong. You did it right. Very right. I’m just—” I suck in another breath. “I’m just feeling overheated. Are you overheated?”

Darcy blinks at me, then holds up a gloved hand. “Well given that it’s thirty-nine degrees and my circulation system is about as effective as a plastic spork—”

“Right.” I force an awkward smile. Darcy eyes me skeptically, then pushes herself off the bench.

“Okay…” She trails off, then begins walking. “I’m gonna head back to the cabin now.”

I nod, way too enthusiastically, then dial it back as I finally pry off my skates. “Okay! Yeah. Sounds good.” I pause, internally kicking myself. “I’m gonna head back to mine too, so…”

Darcy turns to face me.

“Peyton,” she says, folding her arms over her chest. When my eyes catch those emerald jewels, I swear I let out a squeak.

“Hmm?”

“We’re sharing a cabin.”

The realization hits me just as quickly as the cold pavement hits my feet. I reach for my shoes, not caring that the back of my sneakers cave in as I shove my feet on top of them. A nervous laugh escapes me.

“I knew that,” I say, even though clearly in the heat of the moment, I had forgotten. “I was just joking.”

Darcy stares at me with an unconvinced expression. “Okay. Well, if you want, I can go to my mom’s cabin. She won’t—”

“Pshhh.” I wave a dismissive hand, heat creeping into my cheeks as I try to remember how normal people stand. “That’s really not necessary. The more the merrier!”

The more the merrier?

What the fuck?

Darcy’s lips press together, but the corners of them sink in a little, almost like she’s holding back a smile.

Of course she is, that masochist. This is probably her dream come true, watching me crumble into a flustered, anxious wreck.

This has never happened to me before. The only time I have ever felt as stressed as this is before my games, and even that is easier because it’s only one feeling.

One sensation. This is like—a collage of everything good and everything bad in the world.

“Alright, then I’ll walk with you.” She offers.

Of course she will.

I don’t bother to fix my shoes. I just swoop my skates and stick into my hands, and shuffle over to her like my legs are bound with wire. She studies me but doesn’t say anything as we make our way back to the cabin.

This is karma. I can’t even pity myself, because this is exactly what I deserve after what I pulled. I thought I was being helpful. Hell, up until we kissed, I was confident that I was successful. And while that may be true, so is this:

I kissed Darcy Cole.

And I liked it.

Darcy hops up the steps first, dropping her skates and stick on the porch. I set mine beside them, putting my gloves down too, as my heart hammers in my chest. She steps through the front door, and this is ridiculous, I should really calm down, but instead I snatch my water bottle off the ledge.

“I’m just gonna fill this up,” I say, gesturing to it. Darcy gives me an amused nod, tugging off her earmuffs.

“Alright.”

“Okay.”

We stand there for a moment, just staring at each other, until finally, I turn, ready to bolt down the steps. But before I can make another move, something grabs my wrist. Darcy’s fingers tighten around me and before I can even process what’s happening, I’m spun back into her chest.

And then, her lips crash into mine.

For a second—just a fleeting second—my body freezes. But then, her hand slides to the back of my neck and she pulls me in. And suddenly, I’m in the book.

I’m the melting, shirt-grabbing, desperately panting love interest, and Darcy is shoving the door open behind her, still kissing me as she stumbles backward toward the bed.

The mature thing—the captainly thing—to do would be to stop.

But I think we’ve already established that maturity isn’t always my strong suit. And besides, I could be the most professional person on the planet, and still, nothing could convince me this isn’t worth it.

Darcy's lips are warm and soft and they taste of strawberry chapstick.

Her tongue slips against mine, and her fingers tighten in my hair.

A quiet moan escapes me, a restrained plea for her to pull me down, to inversely replicate the tumble on the ice.

Instead, she shifts, the edge of the mattress pressing against my legs, and deepens the kiss.

My body tips backward, my fingers clinging to her jacket as the hard mattress meets my spine.

It’s dark in the cabin, but the pale moonlight beams through the small window above, illuminating just a stripe of Darcy’s freckled cheeks. She straddles me, still fully clothed, still kissing me like I’m the air she breathes.

And here I am, still loving it.

“Is this okay?” she asks breathily, her lips brushing the sweet spot behind my ear. The softest moan escapes my lips, and I’m already a puddle.

“More than okay.”

One hand stays tangled in my hair, anchoring me to the pillow, while the other slips beneath my shirt, Darcy’s cool gloves tracing the curve of my ribs.

A jolt of pure electricity shoots through me, and I don’t know if it’s a threat or a promise.

I have little to no proof that Darcy Cole wants me alive.

Maybe this was her plan all along. Maybe that’s why she kissed me on the ice like she was pouring every last watt of energy into it.

Like she was trying to cause a surge, an explosion, so she could show up to our next practice without my questioning interruptions.

Maybe she was right.

Maybe I am Icarus.

And she’s the sun.

And oh, fuck—I’m going to burn to death.

My pulse quickens, traveling though my body, thrumming in my ears, and thudding between my thighs. If I had any survival instincts, I’d be pulling out from under her. Running out the door. Screaming for my life because I just made Darcy Cole step onto the ice, and now she’s on top of me.

But if this is natural selection, the pale moonlight of her body, the breeze of her breath, the sweet almond cherry scent as her thigh finds the space between mine and presses?

Mother Nature, do your worst.

“Take these off,” I say, tugging at the hem of her gloves as her fingertips toy with the band of my sports bra. Darcy just keeps kissing me, her tongue wandering up the curve of my jaw, and I shudder underneath her before pulling at them again. This time, her hand draws back.

Then her lips.

Then her body.

My brows pinch in concern, and I sit up slightly, trying to meet her eye, though it’s kind of hard in the dark.

“Are you okay?” I ask, breath staggered.