Page 21 of No Rhyme or Roughing
I took it, stepping farther into the water and fighting the urge to shiver. “What are we doing here? Something about the sway of the waves and dancing?”
A giggle escaped her, soft and musical. It pulled a grin from me before I could stop it. Her smiles weren’t easy to come by, but when they came, they were victories.
“Where did you hear that?” she asked, still holding my hand. “Dancing and the sway of the waves? This isn’t a movie, Ry. I just really wanted to swim.”
“You… what?”
She tugged me closer, close enough that I could imagine hearing her heartbeat. Did it pound as hard as mine? Lowering her voice, she looked up at me through her lashes. “Okay, serious time.” Her smile faded as she bit her lip, her teeth sinking into the trembling flesh. “You’re going to suck at this.”
Not what I expected. “Um… thanks for the honesty?”
She rolled her eyes, pressing a hand to my chest to keep me from backing away. “Shit. I didn’t mean it like that. You bring it out of me. I just… Screw it. It’s the truth. There are three days until your next game. That’s not enough time to turn you into a good dancer.”
“Three days? Jesus, Syd. You want me to do this at the next game?”
“Absolutely. No time to waste if they’re really trying to sell the team. We can practice a few moves, but that’s not what you need.”
Her finger tapped against my sternum, and I wasn’t sure she even realized she was doing it. But it made breathing… difficult. “Then, whatdoI need?”
The question hung between us, heavy and charged.
Fuck. She was in my head. From the moment we got to the beach and she revealed the high-waisted one-piece swimsuit, I’d been losing control. The sides were cut out, showing smooth skin, and my brain couldn’t keep up.
I brushed wet hair back from her face before realizing what I was doing and dropping my hands.
Clearing her throat, she stepped back. “You, my dearest stiff-as-fuck, hockey-playing, white-toast boy, needto loosen up.” Her hand flew to her mouth. “Jesus fucking Christ, why am I like this around you?”
“White toast?” I raised an eyebrow, amused at her spiraling.
“You know… bland. I’ll bet you always do what you’re told.” She planted her hands on her hips.
I shrugged. “These days, I guess.”
“Come on, Ry! At least pretend not to be boring.”
“Did I or did I not agree to shake my ass in front of fans and my entire team in three days?”
One side of her mouth quirked up. “We need to spice you up.”
“What does that even mean?”
“It means loosen the tie, dude. You’re about to break one of hockey’s cardinal rules.”
“Which is?”
“Have a personality.” She groaned. “Hockey players are so boring. It’s why no one watches. You all say the same lines in interviews, never smile, never get mad except on the ice—where the visors cover your expressions.” Lifting both brows, she let her eyes drift downward. “Take off your trunks.”
“Excuse me?”
“Skinny dipping.” She sank beneath the water for a moment, squeezing her eyes shut like she was trying to convince herself too. Then she pulled the straps off her shoulders, lifting her suit above the waves.
I would not survive Sydney Valentine.
She turned away, kicking out farther, a sliver of her ass peeking free.
Swallowing hard, I yanked at my waistband,awkwardly stripping in the water. Apparently, dancing on the ice wasn’t the only thing Sydney could talk me into.
She peered back at me, grinning like she’d won a dare.
