Page 49

THIRTY-SIX

Jolie

“ I like the quiet before the storm.”

That was the way Beck had once described the arena.

When almost all the lights were out and the employees were gone and silence filled the large, echoing space.

Now that the situations were similar—everyone had left for the night and I was the last person in the building—I understood exactly what he’d meant.

Only the spotlight above the rink was on, the scoreboards black, the stands empty, making Beck’s description resonate even more.

After spending countless hours here, week after week, I had learned there was something special about the silence. The quietness spoke to me; it hummed inside my stomach. It gave me little bolts of excitement as my brain spiraled, thinking about the loudness of tomorrow’s game.

We were going to play Boston. I was in knots about it.

Since it was my home team against my new home team, I’d spent some extra time editing.

I’d studied the numbers. I’d reviewed our preparations for the game.

And when my eyes felt like they couldn’t look at my computer screen for another second, I locked my office door, and I took the elevator to the first floor.

With my keys in my hand, I approached the exit that would dump me out at the employee lot. But I stayed right there, in front of the glass, completely still. I didn’t even raise the fob to the reader.

Because I heard a noise.

And it was … the sound of skates slicing through fresh ice.

Someone’s here?

But in order for them to be here, they would have to get through security and have their own set of keys.

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 are you doing?”

“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.

We were speeding around turns, going from backward to forward, the change of direction and airflow hitting my stomach each time, and his mouth never left me.

But with each pass around the rink, his kiss changed.

So did the placement of his hands. The deepness of his breath. The way he wasn’t just holding me, but drawing me in against him.

Signs that told me this moment wasn’t just for kissing.

It was for far more.

“Are there cameras on us?”

I knew it.

My eyes opened, and I loosened my arms the slightest bit so I could lean back and really take in his face. “You’re kidding me, right?”

He chuckled, picking up a little speed since he’d slowed. “I’m far from kidding.”

“You want to do this here? On the ice? While skating?”

“I can’t think of a more perfect spot.” He ground the tip of his hard-on against me and nibbled on my bottom lip. “Look what you’ve done to me.”

“Beck …”

“Are there cameras on us?” he repeated.

I was hesitant to give him that answer. The second I did, I knew what was going to happen.

“I can tell by your silence that there aren’t.” He smiled, and it was devilish and devastatingly sexy. “And you’re thinking of all the ways to tell me this is a horrible idea.”

“Actually, I was going to remind you that isn’t exactly the professionalism my father was talking about.”

“But your father wouldn’t know.” He kissed me, gently this time, and moaned when he separated us.

“No one would know. We’re not on a live feed.

We’re not being recorded. No one is here.

Security is outside.” He came to a fast stop and moved me toward the wall behind the goalpost. “Which means, technically, I can do anything I want to you right now.” By putting me against the glass, he could finally lift his hand from where he was holding my butt and place it on my face.

“Technically, yes.”

“And nothing is stopping me … besides you.” His brows rose even though his forehead was mostly hidden by the back of the hat. “What do you say, baby? Are you going to give me your pussy while we’re on this ice?”