Page 142 of The Wildest One

That meant …

I headed down the hallway, past the locker room, and once I entered the short tunnel, the sight made my stomach explode with those familiar butterflies.

It didn’t matter what that man did; he looked beautiful doing it.

“What are you doing?” My hands went to my hips.

Beck wasn’t even holding a stick as he circled the ice. He didn’t have on any equipment. He was wearing a pair of gray sweatpants and a Whales sweatshirt, a backward hat on his head, a smile beaming from his face.

“Having fun.” He skated toward me. “What areyoudoing?”

“I was going home for the night.”

He halted at the opening of the rink and held out his hand. “Put on a pair of skates and join me.”

“I don’t know how to skate.”

“What? How did I not know this about you?” He towered over me, the wall of the rink dividing us, the size of his body looking even more massive and muscular. “You’re from New England. It’s freezing there. Don’t all you Bostonians know how to skate?”

I laughed. “I’m from the city, Beck. Sure, there were rinks. But the only skating I did was with shoes while I was slipping on black ice.”

“Not the same.”

“Obviously.”

His hand was still out, and he pulled at the air. “Come here.”

“On the ice? Without skates?”

“Yes, Jolie. On the ice. And without skates.”

I held his fingers tightly, knowing I was bound to slip, and stepped onto the raised rink, feeling the coldness seep through the soles of my shoes and go right up my dress. But I wasn’t on the ice for long because once I was standing directly in front of Beck, he lifted me into his arms and wrapped me around his body.

“Now, let’s go for a little skate.”

I hugged his shoulders, begging, “Please don’t fall.”

“I’m better on blades than I am in sneakers.” He gave me a kiss. “Trust me.”

“If I didn’t, we wouldn’t be doing this right now.”

Roller-skating had never been my thing. Neither had rollerblading. The only time I’d ever felt the air move past me this fast was on a bike. But that felt nothing like this.

Maybe it was being in Beck’s arms that made it different. Maybe it was being on our ice.

Maybe it was that hockey had been what brought us together at the same place and at the same time, and now, as I hugged his body against mine, it felt like we’d come full circle.

Whatever this feeling was, I loved it.

And when he positioned his face in front of mine and the wind was blowing my hair around us and he whispered, “Kiss me,” I didn’t hesitate.

Nor did I question how he knew where he was going if his eyes were closed.

I didn’t tell him to slow down.

Or stop.

I just fit my lips to his. I took in the warmth of his tongue as it slid into my mouth, and I felt the hardness of his body as it pressed into mine.