Page 98 of Skate the Line

The messy bun on top of her head flops when she straightens and places one hand on her hip. She’s wearing headphones and…an apron?

I grip the top of the arch in the wall, digging my fingers into the molding. I suddenly regret rejecting the handful of women who slid beside me last night in hopes of going back to the hotel with me.

“Poz–”Sunny mutters.

I narrow my gaze.

Sunny clears her throat and tries again.“Pozhalusta.”

The wordpleasein Russian flows from behind her lips, and all I can imagine is her beneath me, withering and pleading with me to put her out of her misery—andfor fuck’s sake.

I abruptly drop my hands from the ledge and stalk into the kitchen.

She says a couple more words in Russian. She’s obviously gotten a hold of more tapes from Ellie.

She is completely unaware that I’m behind her. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be swinging her hips around like she is. As if they’re a magnet, I follow them each time. My breathing is suddenly sharp and fast.

When I get close enough, I lift one side of her headphones to make my presence known. Her scream is ear-piercing. She quickly twists, losing her headphones in the process, and knocks whatever piece of clay she’s painting off of the counter.

I may be hungover, but I was born with hockey reflexes.

The small sculpture lands in the palm of my hand.

I peer at her from below. “Ty uronila eto.”

Sunny’s wide gaze drops to my mouth as the foreign language flows with ease into the kitchen. A line of confusion appears in between her eyebrows as she tries to make sense of what I said.

I chuckle while standing upright, now towering over her. “I guess you need more practice with those tapes.”

Being this close to her makes me do stupid things. I disregard the one thing I swore I wouldn’t do and bring up last night. “I told you that you were clumsy.”

Her gasp hits me in the chest. “I amnotclumsy!” The pink of her cheeks matches the paint smeared on her apron. “You scared me. That was entirely your fault!”

“I told you that the house is secure, though.” I place the little clay…thing…onto the counter beside her paints. I give her a once-over. She’s adorably messy with paint smearing her apron and hands. Her face is clear of heavy makeup, only a pinkish hueto her cheeks and her brown look warmer than usual with some kind of shimmer on her eyelids.

“Yeah, well…” Sunny’s gaze darts behind me before she fully turns back around. “You just never know.”

“I do know. This house is perfectly safe, Sunny.”

I step away, putting some distance between us, because for some insane reason, I have the urge to touch her just to drive my point further.

“Whatever you say, Oscar.” Her voice grows lighter, and I’m thankful she isn’t harping on last night.

“Oscar?” I scoff.

I head for the fridge, knowing there’s something in here that will help me cure my hangover.

Drinking in your thirties isn’t what it was in your twenties.

Ah, Pedialyte. Score.

I turn toward her and unscrew the cap. “I let you sleep in my bed, and I’m still being called Oscar?”

Sunny eyes the orange drink I’m gulping and rolls those pretty eyes. “What an amateur,” she jokes.

The empty bottle slaps onto the counter. With the back of my hand, I wipe the excess off my mouth. “It’s been a while since I’ve drank more than a single beer. I don’t have much tolerance anymore.”

A quick smile catches my attention, but her lips roll together before it can fully spread against her face. I know exactly what she’s thinking. She’s recalling what Malaki said to her in an attempt to save my ass from scaring her off.

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