Page 59 of O Goalie Night
“It was okay, I guess.” I manage to say with a straight face before skating away from him towards the glass as fast as I can. I don’t get very far; Foster skates up behind me, catching me around the waist and lifting me off the ice as I squeal.
“Okay?” His voice is a low growl, but I can feel him smiling against my ear.
“Yup,” I gasp, struggling to breathe and not laugh. “Solid six out of ten.”
He sets me down against the boards and spins me to face him, cupping my face. I tilt forward hoping he’ll kiss me, but he doesn’t. His eyes study mine, looking from one to the other, his expression grave.
“What are you doing?” I sound as breathless as I feel.
“Looking for signs of a concussion. You may have gotten one by hitting your head on my headboard so many times last night. Or maybe it happened during round three in my shower. You said you couldn’t remember your own name after that.”
My jaw goes slack and before I can respond, he kissesme, hard and fast. My hands find his back, grasping at his sweater. I’m trying to pull him closer to me and, at the same time, holding on for dear life.
His lips are firm and sure as he makes a meal out of my willing mouth. I whimper as he runs his tongue over mine.
“Did you have something to say?” He hovers just above my desperate lips.
“Umm…I don’t remember.” I try to stand on my tip toes, but it’s impossible on skates.
“Mmm…Might be more serious than a concussion. Maybe you’ve got amnesia. Can you remember anything?”
I’m running purely on lust and endorphins, but if he wants to play the teasing game, that’s fine by me.
I place my hand on his stomach and let it travel south. “I remember you liking this.” I press against his growing erection, cupping him through his jeans.
“Jesus, Beth,” he groans against my mouth. “You win. I’ll cancel the CAT scan.”
There’s no more talking. Just taste and touch and feel.
Someone bangs on the glass and I scream as Foster hugs me to him protectively.
“Sorry, Foster.” A middle-aged man stands on the other side on the glass looking anywhere but us. “I’m about to open the doors for the family skate. And I figured you’d probably want to…anyway, sorry.”
“Thanks, Danny. We appreciate it.” Foster’s hold tightens on me like he thinks I might run away and the moment Danny turns around, he presses his lips to the top of my head, shaking with amusement. “You good?”
I nod. “Good.” I start to skate towards the exit.
“Look at you.” He’s positively beaming at me. “You’re skating like a pro. I must be a great teacher.”
“Solid six out of ten.”
He laughs and looks like he might chase me again, but dozens of people are starting to fill the ice that was our private skating pond just moments ago. We’re almost to the exit when I hear my name.
“Ms. Michaels! Ms. Michaels!”
A pink blur comes barreling towards me on the ice. I realise too late that she’s not slowing down and is going to crash into me or the boards. On instinct, I widen my stance and prepare to take the blow, when Foster steps forward and catches her.
“Whoa, Speed Racer,” he laughs, steadying my student on her feet.
“Sorry!” The girl looks up at me with a grin that’s missing both incisors.
“Amelia!” I exclaim. “You’re so fast!”
“I know!” She beams. Her head looks impossibly big in her pink helmet. “My dad says I need to learn to stop, though.”
“That might be a good idea.” I look up to find Foster studying her with an unreadable expression.
“Dad! Daaaaaad! It’s Ms. Michaels!”
