Naughty Or Ice

by Sylvia Pierce

  Eva smiled, finally seeing the light in his eyes, the joy, and she got it. Instantly. It wasn’t that hard for her to remember feeling the same way about figure skating—like it was all she wanted, all she needed to live, no matter what else was going on around her.

  This was the Walker Dunn she was looking for. The one she wanted to help. The one she truly believed she could help. The injury may have distracted him from his passion for a while, but deep down, it was still there. Still burning.

  For the first time since their initial meeting, Eva truly wanted to help him—not for the money or the promise of a full-time job. She wanted to see him get back on the active roster. To succeed at the thing he obviously loved more than anything. To remember why he was doing this, why—family or not—he couldn’t just walk away.

  “I used to skate at Delaware Park, too, you know,” she said. “With my dad. Mom always hated when I spent time alone with him—thought we were talking behind her back. But Dad didn’t care. Every Saturday, crack of dawn, wind chill be damned, we were out on that ice. Mom was the last thing on our minds. For me, it was all about the ice, the cold air on my cheeks, the wind in my hair when I had a good run on that long straightaway.”

  “No shit? You were a fierce, badass little kid, weren’t you?”

  “Dad always said I had a strong competitive spirit.”

  “Yeah, well. If we ever crossed paths at the park, I’m sure you knocked me on my ass a few times.”

  “Obviously.”

  Walker grinned, lighting up the whole arena. Slapping his thighs, he said, “Guess it was fate that we ended up here together.”

  A white-hot spark zinged through her belly. Walker held her gaze, almost as if he was daring her to make a move. To lean in. To give him some indication that the insane heat rising between them was real—that it had been there from the first moment they met, and was still raging on, no matter how professional she tried to keep it, no matter how hard they pushed each other’s buttons.

  God, it would be so easy. Just lean in. Pick up where we left off the other day.

  But she couldn’t give that to him. Couldn’t let him into her home like that. Into her heart.

  Breaking their intense gaze, she forced a laugh. “You mean here on the ice, with me kicking your ass and you trying desperately to pretend you’ve got the upper hand?”

  “Oh, you wish!” Walker nudged her with his knee, drawing her attention back to him. When she finally looked up at him again, his teasing smile was gone, replaced by a wolf’s grin, the dark desire in his eyes clear. “I meant here, Evangeline. On this bench. About ten seconds from—”

  “Crazy, right?” Eva plastered on a smile and pulled back, desperate to put some distance between them, to get them back on course. She had to. Everything he said, everything about him—the deep voice, the dark pools of his eyes, his scent—she was wet and wound up and about half a heartbeat from giving in…

  No. It was just too scary to consider. She backed up a little more on the bench.

  Ignoring the flash of disappointment in Walker’s eyes, Eva nodded toward the rink. “Ready for another go, or do you need to rest the knee?”

  His walls were back up in an instant, shutting her out in the cold once again. She knew she was probably giving him mixed signals, making it harder than it needed to be. But God. Every time they made a shred of progress, something happened to shut him down again. To freeze her out.

  “Knee’s fine, princess.”

  “Are you sure? We can rest for—”

  “Repeating the same damn question doesn’t change the answer.” Walker stood up hard and fast—too fast. He lost his balance, his bad knee taking most of the weight to compensate. He winced, unable to hide it.

  He dropped back onto the bench like a ton of bricks, the wood groaning in protest. Without a word, he unlaced his skates and slipped them off.

  Eva sighed. She hated seeing him like this, frustrated and in pain. There was no easy way to say what she had to say next, so she took a deep breath and dove right in. “Walker, our sessions… this is just to help you skate better, to be fast enough to get you back into the running.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  “Even if they agree to put you back in the lineup, you’re going to have to practice with the team for weeks before you get a shot on the ice again. And honestly, I don’t think you’re ready for that. Physically or mentally.”

  “If you’ve got a point, princess, I’d appreciate you getting there sooner rather than later. I’ve got shit to do tonight.”

  “See! That’s it right there.” Eva pointed at his chest, the tension escalating between them again. The light-hearted moments they’d shared earlier evaporated, all the typical arguments and frustrations rushing right back in to fill the space. “That’s what I’m talking about. Your attitude sucks, Walker. You say you love this game, but—”

  “Don’t you question that, Eva. Not ever. Hockey is my life. My first, last, and only love. Got it?”

  That comment shouldn’t have stung, but it did. Still, Eva pressed on. “Do you love it enough to keep pushing? To show up early and work your ass off for me at every session? To work your ass off for your coaches, your teammates, your trainers, even with that excruciating pain? Because that’s what it’s going to take, Walker. Pushing yourself so hard that you might end up on crutches for the rest of your life, or worse. And that’s only for a shot at getting back in the game—not a guarantee.”

  Eva lowered her eyes to his knee. Walker’s hand was curled protectively over his kneecap. She wasn’t sure he even realized it.

  “I’m not in pain,” he said.

  “You’re full of shit.”

  “You’re nagging me.”

  “You’re fighting me every step of the way.”

  “I’m just trying to make you happy.”

  “Happy? This has nothing to do with my happiness and everything to do with yours.” She leaned forward and unlaced her skates, yanking them off her feet. “If you refuse to see that—”

  “How can I be happy when you’re barking at me every—”

  “Hey!” Eva jabbed her finger into his chest. “That’s completely not the point, and you’re just… you’re acting like a… you won’t—”

  “Won’t what, princess?” Walker’s eyes flared again with desire, and in a flash, he grabbed her hand, pressed it flat against his chest. Behind his jersey and the solid wall of muscle and bone, his heart banged wildly.

  Eva wanted to melt, right there on the bench, right into a puddle of anger and lust and her soft pink fleece.

  “You feel that?” he said.

  She nodded, mute, her own heart leaping into her throat. Walker’s hand was warm and firm on top of hers, strong and immovable, and all she could think was… don’t let go. Don’t let me pull away.

  “That’s what you do to me, Eva. Every fucking time I see you.”

  “So?” She hated that her voice was so weak and watery, but she couldn’t focus on anything but the drumbeat of his heart against her hand.

  He leaned in close, his voice low and sexy. “So now you’ve got one chance, princess. One chance to tell me to back off.”

  Eva jutted out her chin, defiant till the end. “And if I don’t?”

  Walker’s mouth curled into that wolf’s grin again, his gray eyes darkening. In that low, maddening voice that made her thighs tremble, he said, “If you don’t, I’m taking you. Right now. Right on this fucking bench.”

  Eva couldn’t speak. She couldn’t remember how. Her mind echoed with the words… taking you… right now… this fucking bench… and her insides throbbed with desire. She’d never been so turned on, never wanted it so badly in her entire life.

  She licked her lips, waiting for her brain to come to its senses. To put her body on lockdown, stop letting her desires make decisions. But her brain was obviously out for the holidays, because without warning, Eva’s lips curved into a hungry smile of her own, and her next w
ords seem to come from someone else entirely.

  “Come on, forty-six,” she whispered, leaning backward on the bench. “Show me what you’re made of.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Walker didn’t need to be told twice.

  As soon as the words were out of Eva’s sweet little mouth, Walker was on top of her, pinning her down beneath him, grateful for the arena’s solid, wide benches. She closed her eyes and arched her hips, grinding against him, and the moment she whispered his name he captured her mouth with a kiss.

  Despite the fire in his belly, not to mention the raging hard-on, he forced himself to take it slow, brushing her lips with his, inhaling the warm vanilla scent of her skin. He didn’t know if he’d ever get another chance to taste her. To feel her. He wanted it to last.

  “Don’t tease me,” she whispered, moaning into his mouth, pulling him closer.

  Fuck, he’d never wanted anyone so much. For a minute he thought about taking her back to his house, getting her into the steam room, or better yet, a proper bed—someplace soft and warm where he could take his sweet time making her come.

  But neither of them would last that long.

  Walker nipped at her bottom lip, sucking it between his teeth, running his tongue along the soft flesh. Another sound escaped her mouth, somewhere between a sigh and a moan, and then she parted her lips to let him in fully, her tongue sliding out to meet his, velvety smooth.

  The taste of that kiss, that mouth… God, she was so fucking sweet. So soft. Walker had spent the last week imagining this, his lips on hers, her hot breath on his face, but his fantasies hadn’t even come close to the real thing.

  He kissed her mouth, tasted every inch of it, then moved on to her chin, her jawline, his tongue swirling in the soft hollow of her throat as his hands worked to unzip her fleece, revealing a white thermal underneath. She wasn’t wearing a bra—thank you, Santa—and her dark nipples stretched the thin fabric, just begging to be sucked.

  Walker slid his hands under the hem of her shirt, her skin hot to the touch. She flinched at first, then giggled.

  “Sorry,” he said, pulling back.

  “No!” She grabbed his hands, guided them back under her shirt. “I like cold hands. It just surprised me.”

  He kissed her again, his hands crawling along the silky smooth skin of her belly, her ribs, and—Jesus fuck—the curve of those perfect breasts. He couldn’t take it any more. He needed to suck her. Hard.

  Lowering his mouth, he kissed her nipple through the fabric, then bit, teasing the stiff peak with his tongue as she moaned in absolute pleasure. He sucked it into his mouth, then reached for her waist, grateful there was no button or zipper to get in his way as he slipped a hand down the front of her pants, desperate to feel her soft, wet heat.

  He swallowed hard, his balls aching. “You’re not wearing panties.”

  “No.”

  “It’s like you knew I was coming.”

  Eva laughed. “Not exactly. It’s just easier without them when I skate.”

  Holy shit. Walker almost came right there. “You’re telling me that every time you’re out on that ice with me, you’re commando?”

  Her cheeks pinkened, but Eva nodded.

  Walker tried to think of something funny to say, but he couldn’t speak. He was too fucking turned on.

  He skimmed through her soft mound of hair, sliding two fingers inside her, coating them in her wetness. With his thumb, he traced a slow circle over her clit.

  Eva’s eyes fluttered closed,

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “I… yes. More,” she said, fisting the front of his jersey and pulling him close. “Harder, forty-six.”

  Fuck, when she called him that… It turned him on so damn much he could hardly stand it.

  He pulled his fingers out slow, then slid back in, teasing her inch by agonizing inch. “Like this?”

  She shook her head, her thighs trembling. She was already close—damn close—and he wanted her to fucking feel it. To scream his name and know that he was the one who’d sent her over the edge.

  “Tell me what you want, princess,” he teased, sucking her nipple into his mouth again. The shirt was cold and damp from where he’d already licked her, and her nipple hardened to a diamond point at his renewed attention.

  God, what I’d do to her if we were naked…

  “Please,” she panted. “I can’t… I… Oh God, please. Harder.”

  She was right there—he could feel her tightening as he slid in deeper, fucking her breathless with his fingers. But it wasn’t enough. Not for him. He wanted more of her. All of her.

  “Take off your pants,” he commanded. The air was cold, but neither of them seemed bothered by it, the heat between them chasing away the chill.

  Eva shimmied out of the spandex and kicked them to the floor. “Tell me you have a—”

  “Hang on.” Walker slid off the bench and crouched down to reach his gear bag underneath, praying to God he still had some condoms in there from the team’s last away game.

  Come on, come on… bingo. His fingers closed around the strip like he was in the damn Hunger Games and just found the last scrap of food in the Cornucopia.

  God, he couldn’t wait to be inside her. To feel that gorgeous pussy clench around him as he brought her right over the edge.

  Walker rose from the floor and yanked down his pants and thermals, freeing his aching cock from its confines.

  And then he froze.

  In his rush to get back to Eva, he’d forgotten about his scars. About the fact that outside of the medical profession, no woman had ever seen them. Not these.

  Until now.

  Eva’s eyes widened, her mouth open in shock.

  Walker got it. Some scars were sexy as hell. He had one hidden along his jawline, a few on his hands, a rather nasty one on his forearm—all of them badges of honor he’d earned on the ice that had made him feel tough, accomplished. And all of them had, at one time or another, driven the women in his life wild.

  But the gash that ran down the front of his leg from pelvis to knee wasn’t sexy. The one slashed across his inner thigh wasn’t sexy. And neither was the one that snaked around his calf. They were angry and purple and jagged, constant reminders of the steel-and-glass monster that had nearly claimed his life.

  Mostly, Walker tried not to look at his leg. If he looked for too long, all the old ghosts would rush him, the constant whiff of death still close at his heels.

  It’d been six months, and every time he saw those damn scars he felt like he’d gotten away with something he really, truly shouldn’t have.

  Wordlessly Eva reached forward, trailing her fingers along the ridges of the longest scar, the one that ran down the center of his leg. He flinched at first, then relaxed, her gentle caress sending tingles all the way up to his scalp. He hadn’t been touched there—not like that—and the sensation of her soft fingers on the rough, puckered skin drove him wild.

  She slid off the bench and onto her knees, urging him to sit down in front of her as she tugged his pants all the way off.

  With a warm, delicate touch, Eva ran her hands up both of his calves, over his knees, up along the tops of his thighs. She glanced up at him through thick, feathery lashes, and in her amber eyes Walker saw no pity. Only the same fierce confidence she’d demonstrated on the ice. The fire that always made him want to do better, be better. The passion she seemed to bring into everything she did, and now she was bringing it here, right to him.

  He was hard again in an instant, and Eva reached up and grabbed him, fisting him, stroking him as she kissed the scar along his inner thigh, her lips and tongue and breath blazing a hot path over his flesh.

  Walker threaded his fingers into her hair, tugging it loose from that tight little bun. It was longer than he’d thought, spilling down through his fingers in waves that reached the middle of her back. He brushed his thumb across her lips, then urged her upward, pulling her onto his lap and guiding her legs around hi
s waist.

  “Is this… is your knee okay like this?” she asked.

  He slid his hands around the bare curves of her ass as his cock brushed against her wet heat. “More than okay.”

  Walker tore open the condom and rolled it down on his shaft, then Eva shifted forward, tightening her thighs around his hips as she guided him inside, all the way to the fucking hilt.

  Eva whispered his name, gripping his shoulders for balance as she rode him, slowly at first, then faster, harder, deeper as they found their perfect rhythm.

  Everything about her was red-hot and explosive, her body stretching to accommodate him, then tightening around him, driving him out of his fucking mind.

  He slid his hands up the back of her shirt, threading his fingers into the hair at the nape of her neck and pulling her in for a kiss as he arched his hips to meet her, thrusting deep, deeper still, Eva’s fingers digging into his shoulders, her vanilla scent enveloping him fully. She was so tight, so slippery, so perfect… Walker couldn’t handle all the sensations of Eva—her scent, the satiny feel of her skin, the soft sounds of her breath, the silky touch of that flame-red hair, the taste of her mouth—God, there was just so much, all at once. It made his head fucking spin.

  Eva broke their kiss, pulling back to look into his eyes, her own gaze dark with pleasure. “You feel so amazing. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

  She didn’t look away, even as she said the words, even as she moaned for him, writhing against him, stroking him harder and faster. He couldn’t look away; she had him locked in her blissed out gaze, totally spellbound by her unwavering confidence.

  God, he fucking loved that about her.

  “I’m close,” she whispered.

  Thank God. Walker didn’t think he could last much longer, either. Not with her looking at him like that.

  “Let go, princess,” he whispered into her mouth, his tongue brushing her lips. “We’re all alone here. Just us. Come for me.”

  “God, I’m… yes… Walker!” Eva gasped once more, then shattered, her fingers fisting his jersey as the orgasm tore through her body, everything inside her pulsating and hot as she road him harder and harder, all the way to the blissful end, never once breaking their intense gaze.