Breakaway (The Rule Book Collection)

by A. M. Johnson

  The conviction in her words stirred something primal inside my gut. I didn’t need her approval, but I liked that I had it. “Besides playing hockey, it’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

  “I’ve only seen you play once, and I have nothing to compare it to, but I was totally impressed. All of you guys are so talented. You run on ice, with skates strapped to your feet, chasing a small black dot. I’ve never even ice skated and I know what you do is impossible.”

  I stopped at the red light a little more abruptly than I should have. “Hold up. You’ve never ice skated?”

  “No. Not once.”

  I tried not to glare at her. “How is that even possible?”

  “I grew up in Tampa. The south. Not exactly a winter sports town.”

  She was right. Kind of. It hadn’t been a winter sports town. But I decided not to correct her, and when the light changed, I made a U-turn.

  “What are you doing?” she asked and I fought my smirk.

  “Taking you to the rink.”

  “What? Why?”

  She blanched and I tried not to laugh. “It’ll be fun.”

  Seeing Stevie in skates, her ass in those tight jeans moving across the ice, way too tempting to pass up. I didn’t care that the rink was probably packed with families for public skate, or how they’d probably recognize me. Most people didn’t approach me when I was at the rink. We practiced at the Ice Sports Forum, and it was a community place as much as it was our practice facility.

  “I’m not really dressed for ice skating.”

  “Sure you are,” I said, blatantly ignoring the growing panic in her tone.

  “What about dinner, you made reservations and—”

  “I promise, after we skate, we can swing by one of my favorite restaurants by the rink.”

  “I hate you right now.”

  My laughter shook my shoulders and she narrowed her eyes.

  “I won’t let you fall.”

  Her answer was quiet, too mumbled, but I could have sworn I heard her say. “Too late.”

  “You owe me a serious romantic date night, all my choices.” Stevie was practically shaking as I laced up her skate.

  Figure skates were easier to balance on so I’d rented a pair of those instead of hockey skates. I knotted the lace and stared at her from where I was kneeling, my skates already on. Her eyes were bright, filled with adrenaline and fear. She rubbed her hands on her jeans while her eyes darted around the room.

  The lobby of the Forum was packed like I’d predicted. Families out on a Friday night and several groups of rowdy teens. Mostly guys strutting around vying for the attention of the handful of girls they had with them. It was funny to watch, and crazy to think I’d been one of those idiots once.

  “Are you cold?” I asked and she nodded finding my gaze. “Here…” I took both of her small hands in mine, swallowing them with my large palms.

  I brought my lips to our joined hands and exhaled a warm breath against our skin. When I looked up again, her kissable lips were parted, and I wanted to place my own against them. Steal her breath.

  “Everyone is staring at us,” she whispered.

  “Ignore it.”

  When we arrived, I hadn’t missed the fervent stolen glances in our direction.

  “You’re used to this.”

  “The rink… it’s a safe place, Stevie. It’s where we practice. The people here know me, they get it, they won’t approach me or my teammates most of the time, and the ones who do are really chill about it.”

  I stood, lacing the fingers of our right hands together.

  “God, you’re tall in skates,” she said and I chuckled.

  “Come on.”

  She exhaled a long breath as she stood and wobbled on unsure legs. She placed her hand on my chest as she fell forward, finding her balance, and I wrapped my arm around her, settling my hand at the small of her back. She smelled like summer, and the sweet scent of her hair trickled down and into my lungs as I breathed her in. I’d stolen a piece of her and I wanted to hold my breath. She squeezed my hand, the death grip causing me to laugh, and I finally exhaled hoping that this wouldn’t be the only opportunity I’d have to be this close.

  She wet her lips and I nearly groaned when her eyes eagerly found my mouth. We were pressed together and the room was filled with kids and their fucking parents. All I could think about was kissing her, how I wanted to drag my teeth across her bottom lip, see how far I could push her until she bit back.

  She broke the heady silence as her hand curled in my shirt. “I’m terrified.”

  It didn’t feel like she was talking about skating anymore.

  “I won’t let go, not unless you ask me to.”

  “You promise?”

  “Promise.”

  Her lips trembled, but she managed a smile as we made our way in small steps through the lobby to the rink doors. Once she’d gotten the feel for the skates, each step came faster than the last. She shivered as we passed through the main doors to the rink. The room was kept cold, and the body heat of all the people in the large room did nothing to help the frigid temperature. We hesitated on the threshold of the rink. Stevie was taking it all in. The people, the loud music, the signature sound of blades cutting across the ice. Whenever I was here, my blood pumped harder, warmer, and I wondered if hers did, too. Did she feel it, that pulse? Did the crisp scent of the rink make her a little high like it did me?

  She answered my silent questions with a huge smile. “This looks like it might be kind of fun.”

  I smiled as I zipped up her leather jacket. “Then let’s do it.”

  It wasn’t easy at first, and I’d like to say Stevie was a natural, but she wasn’t. She’d almost fallen about five times and we’d only made it around the rink once. My favorite part about the entire endeavor was that every time she was about to fall she’d swear like a sailor. The girl was vulgar and it was fucking hot.

  “Son of a bitch,” she squeaked and stumbled over her skates.

  In my attempt to stop us both from going down, I grabbed her hips and involuntarily propelled her into the boards. Her head hit the glass and she winced.

  “Shit! Are you okay?” I asked and framed her face with my hands.

  “I think so.”

  I did a quick assessment. My eyes swept across her face and my gaze landed on hers. Everything seemed alright. Her pupils looked even. Holy fuck, I’d checked my date into the boards. Smooth move, Melo.

  “I’m sorry, I was trying to stop you from falling, I didn’t mean to—”

  “I’m fine.”

  The warmth of her body pressed against me, there wasn’t an inch separating us, the fog spilling from her lips mingled with mine as we both tried to catch our breath. She smiled and everything came into crystal clear focus.

  “You’re not hurt?”

  She shook her head and I leaned in a fraction. The cold air had charged the room with static, and it painted her cheeks and nose pink. My thumbs stroked gently across the silk of her skin and she tipped her head back. I couldn’t stop myself from staring at her mouth. There was a small bow to her upper lip, a little indent begging for me to lick it.

  “Fuck, I want to kiss you.”

  I moved in, driven by the selfish need to consume, each breath she took became mine as she whispered, “Then kiss me.”

  Every girl has that one moment. Something to put up on a pedestal, something to frame. My moment was right now. Mark’s hot hands on my face, his eyes locked on mine, our lips barely inches apart. The sound of the rink disappeared and all I could hear was my own rapid breathing. All I could feel was his hard body caging me—the only thing keeping me upright in a world that had been tipped upside down.

  “Fuck, I want to kiss you.”

  His voice was rough and breathless and I folded, easy and willing for the slight command that edged his request. It was unfamiliar, but I loved it.

  “Then kiss me.”

  My chest ached with anticipation, each breath ma
king my head feel dizzy, like I was on the crest of a hill and the roller coaster was about to plummet down the tracks. The cold air of the rink simmered as he dipped his head and my stomach dropped.

  “I’m so fucking into you,” he whispered and his lips brushed against mine before he took the final dive.

  Those lips were so… so incredibly soft.

  My eyes fluttered closed as I melted into his kiss. He tasted like mint as he gently parted my lips. He took more, his tongue sweeping across mine, and a low sound, almost a growl, rumbled in his chest. I wrapped my arms around his neck, held him closer, as my fingers curled into his hair. Mark’s thumbs grazed my cheeks as he slid his hands into my hair as well. Heat bloomed between my thighs as he pressed against me. My skates slipped and he dropped his hands to my waist, holding me still. He chuckled against my mouth and left two sweet kisses, one on my upper lip and then one on the bottom. I lowered my hands to his shoulders, and the way he gripped my hips, desperate, aligning our bodies, it made me feel brave. I raked his bottom lip through my teeth. He groaned and pushed me against the side of the rink, devouring my mouth with firm and famished lips.

  “Get it, bro!” someone called out and I felt Mark’s shoulders vibrate with laughter.

  He pressed one more kiss against my lips and then pulled away. Mark’s cheeks were filled with blush, his ears pink to the tips.

  I grazed my fingers over his cheekbone. “I like this.”

  “What?” he asked, making no effort to move us into a more public appropriate position.

  “You’re blushing.” I slipped my hand into his hair at the nape.

  He clenched his jaw, his eyelids heavy and hooded, as he cupped my cheek. The pad of his thumb drew slowly across my skin as he said, “So are you.”

  I pressed my teeth into my bottom lip, my smile shy as he watched me. “It was a good kiss.”

  “Good?” He raised his eyebrows, his smile pulling into sexy dimples.

  “As far as first kisses go, yeah.”

  Mark eliminated any remaining distance between us, leaning in, his breath tickled my overheated skin as he whispered into my ear, “That kiss was fucking epic.”

  The sentence rolled off his lips, graveled and dirty. His left hand grasped my hip as his teeth grazed the lobe of my ear. Warm kisses dusted the sensitive slope of my neck and I shivered. I leaned my head back, granting him better access, forgetting about the public venue for a few more precious seconds. He released his grip on my hip and placed his hand against the glass. His eyes searched mine before he stole another kiss. This kiss was lazy and indulgent as if he had all the time in the world to discover me.

  He finally parted from my lips with a groan, resting his forehead against mine he asked, “Should we get the hell out of here?”

  “Not yet.”

  He held my face between his hands, his lips lifting on one side as he leaned back to look at me. “You still want to skate?”

  Did I want to skate? I’d fallen on my ass, racked up years’ worth of embarrassment, but there was something about the way Mark’s eyes ignited from within as he’d watched me, taught me. This was his house, his home, and even if his kiss had me wanting more one-on-one attention, I was still buzzing on the high he radiated just being on the ice.

  “Isn’t that why you brought me here,” I said giving him my best smile.

  He lowered his hand lacing it through mine, his smile spreading so bright I was blinded by it, struck straight in the chest, the afterburn of it would stay with me for the rest of the night.

  “Let’s skate.”

  The night so far had felt like a John Hughes movie. Unsuspecting girl gets taken on a date by the hot superstar jock, has the best kiss of her life, and then gets swept away in a fancy car. If it wasn’t for the bruise I was sure had begun to form on my butt or the way this burger joint smelled like grease, booze, and stale cigarettes, it would’ve been the best first date ever. Mark rewarded me with his megawatt smile as he stared at me from across the booth. Actually, he hadn’t stopped staring at me since we’d left the rink, beyond what was safe, since he’d been driving.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” I said as I spun the silverware that had been rolled into a white paper napkin in a circle.

  “What’s that?” he asked his eyes fixed on my mouth.

  “That I’ll never skate again.”

  “I’ll make you.” He chuckled and sipped from the glass of water the waitress had dropped by once we’d gotten here.

  I almost snorted. “You can’t make me do anything.”

  He heard the humor in my voice and laughed again. “Stevie, if you spend any amount of time with me, you’ll learn that statement is entirely not true.”

  I didn’t miss the innuendo in his low tone. I was about to tell him he was full of shit, but the waitress reappeared. She was young, maybe nineteen, dressed in jeans and a low-cut top.

  She had moon-eyes for the star player as she asked, “What’ll ya have, Melo?”

  “I’m not sure yet, Kara, she’s never been here before.” He tipped his head in my direction and the girl greeted me with a friendly smile.

  “Never, ever?” she asked in her heavy southern drawl, and I instantly wanted to put her in my pocket.

  The place was a dive. Wood paneled everything, faded beige linoleum tiles, and pool tables that had seen better days sat to the right of the bar. It smelled weird, and the floors under my feet were sticky, but it had a certain charm.

  “No, ma’am.” I returned her smile and she shook her head in disbelief. I looked down at the laminated menu and tried not to laugh at the fact it had pictures on it. “I’ll have a number seven.”

  Mark’s lips were pressed together, a smile brimming at the corners. He kept his eyes on me as he ordered. “I’ll have the same, but bring her a shot of your best tequila.”

  “Tequila? No, I’ll just have—”

  “Oh, and two Coronas,” Mark interrupted me and slid my menu over to his side of the booth, picked it up and handed both of them to the server.

  She winked at me before she turned to walk away.

  “I can’t drink tequila.”

  “Sure, you can.” He was way too smug, and I couldn’t hate how his smirk made all the butterflies in my stomach grab pompoms and cheer.

  “You have to drink a shot of tequila and a bottle of Corona if you order a number seven.”

  “Says who?” I lifted a skeptical brow.

  “Willie.” His laugh was light, clearly enjoying my irritation.

  “Who the hell is Willie?”

  “The owner.” He reached across the booth and pointed to the paper ring holding my napkin and silverware together.

  Fat Willie’s Bar and Grill was written in red block lettering across the top, and had a tubby-looking man wearing a red checkered chef’s hat below it.

  “You ordered a number seven. Which, I’m pretty fucking impressed with, by the way. It’s tradition that when you order a number seven or thirteen you have to drink a shot of tequila and have a Corona. Willie is very superstitious. He told me the first time I’d ever eaten here. The man himself had actually brought me the drinks… said I had to drink it or I’d lose a game.”

  “Then why didn’t you order two shots of tequila?”

  “I don’t drink liquor, typically, during the season.”

  “But you just said—”

  “I’m not superstitious, I’m trying to get you tipsy.” His grin was downright pleased and I laughed at his arrogance.

  “And there’s that charm.”

  He settled his hand over mine, drawing circles on my skin with his thumb. “You don’t have to drink it.”

  His light brown eyes teased me, challenged, and all I wanted to do was surrender to him. Since I was nineteen, after I’d married Ben, all I’d ever known was quiet nights, calculated moments, and kisses that calmed instead of burned. Mark had me wanting to jump onto the pyre.

  “I suppose I should have the full Fat Willie’s ex
perience.” I bit back my grin and relished in the warmth of his chuckle, of his hand on mine.

  “It wouldn’t be the same otherwise.”

  Kara stopped by the table as Mark pulled his hand away. She set down the shot in front of me along with a bottle of beer, and then handed him his drink.

  “Y’all’s dinner is almost ready,” she said with a tap of her serving tray on the table.

  Once she walked away, Mark nudged the shot glass in my direction. “Bottoms up, babe.”

  Babe.

  Usually I cringed at stuff like that, pet names, but he blushed as if he realized his slip, and his smile reached those perfect dimples as he shrugged his shoulders. “It’s not gonna drink itself.”

  I brought the shot to my lips, closed my eyes, and gulped it down in one swallow. The burn reached my belly and I opened my eyes. I grabbed the lime that had been wedged into the top of my Corona and popped it between my lips. The tart lime juice dripped down my chin as I sucked on it. I wiped my mouth, proud that I’d completed his little challenge without a wince, and finished with a long pull of my beer before setting it down on the tabletop. Hungry eyes met mine as I glanced across the table. The powerful weight of his stare gathered heat along the lines of my cheeks.

  My smile spread across my face as I relaxed into the cracked vinyl of the booth. “You’re going to win on Monday.”

  He wet his lips, his eyes darting to the discarded lime wedge, and then back to my mouth before he asked, “You think so?”

  I nodded and his shoulders set into a confident line. His entire presence screaming with strength. The same strength I’d witnessed for myself when I’d watched him play, watched him fight. “I am very superstitious so I’m glad I’ve taken the necessary precautions to assure your win.”

  His head fell back, and I admired the length of his neck, how his Adam’s apple moved as he laughed. “We could really use a win after…”

  He let the sentence go unfinished. But before the mood could become awkward, Kara brought our dinner to the table. She placed our plates in front of us with a cheerful “enjoy” and rushed off to the kitchen. The restaurant was busy, and I’d only seen one other server.