Page 80 of No Rhyme or Roughing
Vasiliev stopped in front of us, spraying ice over my shoes. “Thank you.” He pressed his hands together in a praying motion and dipped his head. “We do good.”
“Well,” I laughed, “you’ll do something.”
He grinned, a dimple appearing as he glanced between Ryder and me before heading off. Only Rowan lingered on the ice, watching us closely, as though he were waiting for something.
“You okay there, Gonzo?” Ryder asked, frowning.
Rowan didn’t answer. His eyes flicked between us, and I realized Ryder was standing close—too close. His body angled toward mine, and the space between us felt deliberate. Intimate.
Rowan’s heavy sigh filled the silence as he gave a single shake of his head before stepping off the ice, leaving Ryder and me alone.
We stood there, the quiet rink amplifying the sound of his retreating steps.
A nervous laugh escaped me. “I feel gross.” I took a step back, creating more space between us. Cold sweat clung to my shirt, making me feel far too seen.
Ryder followed, his skates moving faster than my feet. Leaning down, he pressed his nose into the curve wheremy neck met my shoulder. “You definitely don’t smell gross.”
Another laugh slipped out, my defense mechanism in full force. “You’re just saying that because you’re thinking about kissing me.”
“Are you not thinking about kissing me?”
“Always.”
The word tumbled out before I could stop it, and Ryder’s lips curved against my skin. His nose brushed up my neck, and I froze, my back pressing against the boards. The warm slide of his tongue tracing a path to my ear sent a shiver through me, a sharp contrast to the cold air of the rink.
But I pushed away, walking toward center ice. “Ryder… what happened between us…” I couldn’t finish the thought. Saying it aloud would reveal too much—the need I couldn’t hide from my voice.
He followed, his hand catching my waist and holding me still. “I can’t stop thinking about it, Syd.” His palm flattened against my stomach, and I fought the urge to lean into him, to let his fingers explore.
The rink lights dimmed—a sign that no one thought anyone was still on the ice.
“You’re thinking about it right now,” he murmured, his lips brushing my ear.
“Teddy—”
“Has nothing to do with us.”
“You wouldn’t have said that before.”
“Before I tasted you?” His teeth nipped at my earlobe, and I stifled a moan. “Before I knew what you sound like when you come? You’re right. I wouldn’t have. But now, it’s all I can think about.”
His lips trailed down my neck, and when he rested his chin on my shoulder, his voice dropped. “You were so sexy today, teaching us how to dance.”
“That’s my job, Ryder. I like to think I’m good at it.”
I yelped as he spun me around by my hips, pressing me chest-to-chest with him. His eyes, an impossibly deep blue, locked on to mine.
He kissed one cheek. “Telling us what to do.” Then, the other. “You were so bossy.”
“What’s gotten into you?” I asked, my voice breathless. This wasn’t like him. Acting on his desires where anyone could walk in and see? Ryder was usually so private. Stoic.
“You. You’ve gotten into me. I spent the last hour hard as a rock, watching you surrounded by my idiot teammates.”
“This isn’t smart.” I turned my head so his next kiss landed in my hair. “We should get going.”
Stepping out of his grasp, I made a quick exit from the ice and into the darkened tunnel, heading for the locker room. The only light came from Ryder’s locker. Even the coaches’ offices were dark.
We were completely alone.
