I wrap my arm around her waist and squeeze her ass. “I’d much rather watch your ass than kick it, baby. But if you think you can skate faster than me, I’ll race you. Just don’t think I’m letting you win.”
“Bring it, hockey boy.”
I spend the next hour looking for reasons to touch my wife.
To hold her hand.
To grip her hips. Her waist. Her face.
No one bothers us. Hell, no one even realizes who we are until we’re sitting on a bench once we’re done and taking our skates off. A little girl with a purple hat and matching mittens stops in front of us with a napkin and pen held in front of her. Her mother stands off to the side, silently watching her. “Excuse me. Are you Madeline Kingston?”
“That depends.” Lindy smiles. “Do you promise not to tell anyone?”
The girl pulls her mitten off and holds up her pinkie finger. “Pinky swear.”
Lindy pulls off her glove and links their pinkies. “Then, yes, I’m Madeline Kingston. Do you like figure skating?”
The little girls eyes grow as big as saucers. “I’m Sarah, and I watched you win the gold medal last year. You were amazing,” she says with this level of awe in her voice that makes me want to say, Yeah, kid, she really is that great. “I want to skate like you one day.” She looks over at me and tilts her head. “Are you her partner?”
Lindy rests her hand on my leg. “Can I tell you a secret?”
Sarah moves in closer and nods her head excitedly.
“He’s better than my partner. He’s my husband.”
Fuck . . . what those words do to me.
“He plays hockey,” Lindy tells her.
“Hockey?” Sarah’s face pinches. “Ehh. I like figure skating better than hockey.”
I think I just got dissed by a first grader.
“Would you sign this for me?” Sarah shoves the pen and napkin toward Lindy, who does the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. She signs the napkin.
XO,
Madeline Kingston Hayes
Lindy
Once Sarah and her mom walk away, I turn toward Easton to ask if he wants to get something to eat, but the heat in his eyes stops me. “You okay, hockey boy?”
“You planning on taking my name, princess?” His voice is thick with emotion, and suddenly, it’s just him and me. The rest of the rink fades away, and something tugs at the back of my mind. Something important.
I move onto his lap and cup his face in my hands the way he seems to like doing to me.
“I was thinking about it,” I whisper against his lips, giving him a truth I’m not sure I even realized until now. “Is that okay with you?”
“It’s your choice, baby. You hold all the power. You always will.” Easton’s hand grips my head as he deepens our kiss, and I get a sense of déjà vu. His tongue licks into my mouth, and I hum a quiet moan. “You ready to get out of here?”
“Yes,” I whisper breathlessly, and Easton stands with me still in his arms.
“Put me down, hockey boy. We can’t scare the kids.”
“Fuck the kids.” He kisses me again, and I almost agree. Almost.
“Easton . . .” I pull back.
“Fine.” He drops my legs and lowers me to the ground. “Tell me you got a room at the hotel, because I’m sharing with Boone, and I don’t want an audience for what I’m about to do to you, princess.”
“Better. I got a suite.”
Easton groans and takes my hand in his. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
EASTON
Lindy rests her head on my shoulder and her hand on my heart for the short drive back to the hotel. Neither of us speak as the air around us grows thick with need and want and fucking desperation.
Her fingers resting under my coat and over my shirt somehow still scorch my skin. Meanwhile, I don’t dare move a fucking muscle. I can’t. Not yet. Because when I finally do, I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop.
Lindy looks up at me once we get back to the hotel, and I run my hand over her hair and hold the back of her head in my hands, framing her face. Those long lashes flutter around her stormy-blue eyes, dragging me under like a riptide.
Slowly, she drags her teeth over her trembling lower lip and leans into my hand, and I finally allow myself to give in to the desperation coursing through my veins. With the smallest fucking move, I lean down and ghost my lips over hers and swallow the sweetest sigh as it falls from her lips.
“Take me upstairs, Easton.” She pulls back and runs her fingers along my lips. “Please . . .”
This woman . . . “As you wish, princess.”
Slowly, we get out of the car and make our way through the lobby to the bank of elevators. She pushes the button for the fortieth floor, and we stand, silently holding hands while we wait. The heat between us threatens to incinerate anyone in its way. A few teammates walk by and say hi, but I just give them a chin lift in return as Lindy’s lips press into a slow, sexy smile.
We step onto the elevator with a handful of other people, and I move us to the back corner and drag her in front of me with her back only centimeters from my chest. Not touching. Not in an elevator full of people. Not with the paparazzi staked out all over the hotel.
We both watch the numbers tick by at a rate a fucking snail could outpace.
She steps back and links a single finger with one of mine, and for such a small movement, it’s one of the hottest experiences of my life.
Because it’s her.
Because I want her more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life.
More than my own life.
Just her.
One of my teammates gets on at the thirty-fifth floor and spots me. “Hey, man.”
I lift my chin and nod at Donnelly.
He looks from me to Lindy, then down at our hands, and the doors to the elevator close again. “A few of us are hanging in Malcom’s room. He always brings his gaming setup with him for the long stretches. You want in?”
“Not tonight, man. But thanks,” I tell him, my voice sounding strained to my own ears, like I swallowed broken fucking glass.
His eyes drop down to our linked fingers, and Lindy drops my hand. I’m about to protest when she reaches out for him. “Hi, I’m Lindy, Easton’s wife. It’s nice to meet you.”
He shakes her hand, then looks at me, surprised. “Damn, Hayes.” I get ready for him to give me shit, but the asshole laughs instead. “You out-kicked your coverage, man.”
I grab her hip just before the doors finally fucking open on our floor. “You have no idea. See you tomorrow.”
I guide Lindy out of the elevator and hear Donnelly’s low whistle as the doors close.
Lindy pulls her keycard out of her purse with shaky hands and struggles to unlock the door. So I take the card from her and hold it against the sensor until it blinks green and push us inside.
Once it closes behind us, I spin us around and cage her in, leaning a hand against the door and towering over this beautiful woman.
Her breath shakes as she leans her back against the door and grips the collar of my coat. “Easton . . .”