Hot on Ice: A Hockey Romance Anthology

by Avery Flynn

  Blindsided didn’t begin to describe it. The captaincy hadn’t been on his radar at all once Aleks stepped down last month. Which was weird, because it always had been a career goal for Kurt. A marker. One that said you were more than your stats, or your paycheck, or even the number of team calendars your shirtless pecs helped sell for charity. It meant the guys you skated with respected you. Wanted you to lead them. It was the ultimate MVP award, in his book.

  The fact that all the members of the Rage chose him? It was as big a moment as getting his first pro contract. It was a car on his sixteenth birthday—not that he’d gotten one—and box seats at game seven of the World Series and having a beer named after him at that microbrewery he loved in Delaware. It was everything.

  And Kurt had no idea what to say in response.

  No. Fucking. Idea.

  Aleks lifted his eyebrows. “Come on, man, what do you say?”

  “He can’t say anything. Ha!” Finn slammed an open palm in front of Flynn.

  “Damn it, I just lost five bucks. I was sure you’d make a speech.”

  “You know, you have to say yes,” the goalie prodded. “We all vote, but you have to agree to do it.”

  He couldn’t.

  Because once he said yes, he’d be fully committed. He’d never go back on his word to his teammates. But Kurt sure as hell wasn’t ready to say no and open up that can of worms when he had no plan and, oh, no fucking actual decision made about his future.

  He opened his mouth. Closed it. Stripped off his glove, wiped the back of his hand across his forehead and tried again. “I…I need to think about it.”

  “For fuck’s sake, Lundquist,” Coach Courage said. “We’re all aware that your contract is up for renewal. If this is some power play to squeeze more cash out of me, forget it. And I’ll tell your agent the same damned thing.”

  Thank God. Coach Courage had just thrown him a lifeline without even realizing it. Kurt had put contract negotiations out of his mind. If he kept playing hockey, he wanted to stay with the Rage. Simple as that.

  And until his conversation with Lisette? He’d dismissed his idea of college as a pipe dream. Nah, that wasn’t it. He’d been too chickenshit to figure out how to move forward on the dream. Lisette had given him the approval and nerve to think about turning it into a reality. But re-upping his contract? Going free agent? It was the perfect reason to not accept this honor on the spot.

  Ripping off his other glove, he spread his hands wide, palms up. “Hey, you know my agent would kill me if I said anything one way or the other. I just push the puck. He makes the money magic happen.”

  “We get it.” Finn nodded. Because Kurt wasn’t the only one in that situation. Contract time rolled around every year, and there was always a surprise or two. Hell, the biggest surprise already was Aleks leaving the team.

  “Thank you all. From the bottom of my heart. There’s no team I’d rather lead. I just can’t give you an answer right this second.”

  The other guys had hit the nail on the head. Complicated. That was the only word to describe his life.

  Kurt had a feeling that if he didn’t make all the right choices, in the right order, at the right time, complicated would become fucked up in a heartbeat. Too bad he didn’t know what the right choices were.

  8

  Lisette had turned into a bona fide rink bunny. Because she couldn’t think of anything she’d rather do than sit on the hard metal bench and watch Kurt skate. She could do it all day. Every day.

  Every night, for sure.

  It was one thing to watch him during a game, suited up in full uniform and pads. Then he looked intimidating, like a big tower of trouble headed straight for her. Larger than life. Rugged and raw and virile.

  But watching him tonight was a million times better. Kurt wore a thin plaid flannel shirt that was flapping open over a white tee that didn’t hide a single sinew or tightly toned ab. Faded denim cupped his ass, molded to the powerful thighs. And no helmet obscured the sharp planes of his face. Nothing hid the relaxed happiness of his expression. Which was great, because he kept turning and aiming it straight at her.

  “Come out here,” he hollered.

  “I’m good watching you.”

  Millions of infinitesimal ice crystals shattered and flew in the air as he stopped using just one foot. “I asked what you wanted to do tonight. For a date. Said I’d take you anywhere, do anything. Which, in New Orleans, is offering a hell of a lot of options. But you said you wanted a skating date.”

  “Yup. I’m quite sure I chose wisely.” Getting to ogle all those muscles in action was a dream date. One Lisette was positive other women would kill to do.

  “A skating date,” Kurt repeated. “Not a sitting-and-watching date.”

  Huh. He’d well and truly caught her there. “You’re right. Sorry. I got distracted.”

  “By what?”

  “Uh, you.” Was Kurt really so unaware of his appeal? He might’ve had his head down for the past year, but before that she was quite sure he’d blazed a trail through the women in each team’s city before he switched to a new team. He was super hot, funny, talented…and that was before adding the pro-athlete-and-obvious-wealth cherry on top of the guy-goodness sundae.

  “I’m nothing special.” He hung his head. “A jock. A guy who gets paid way the hell too much to work out and skate laps and just play.”

  Lisette stood to stroke his head, then curve her hand down to pet his cheek. The stubble rasped against her palm. She tried very, very hard to ignore how much that turned her on. How much she wanted to feel its roughness everywhere. “Do you really feel that way, Kurt?”

  “Some days. It isn’t curing cancer. Or building houses. There’s no lasting impact.”

  Wow. He was really going through a quarter-life crisis, about three years late. “Who says there has to be? Have you ever watched your fans, really watched them, during a game?”

  His lips quirked. “Is that a trick question? Because mostly, I’m watching the puck during a game. And my teammates. And the seven other guys who would all like nothing better than to plow me over.”

  “Good point. What I meant was that if the Rage happens to have any of your games DVR’d—”

  “Yeah, we’ve got film. Enough to make your eyes cross.”

  “Watch when the camera gets the crowd. Not even when anything exciting is happening on the ice. Just when they pan across the stands during timeouts. Those people are excited. They’re bursting with adrenaline. They’re entirely caught up in the moment.”

  “Exactly.” He didn’t sound the least bit cheered up. “A moment.”

  “A moment can make all the difference.” This was serious. She had to get through to him. No matter what Kurt ended up doing in the future, he needed to be proud of what he’d done with his life so far.

  Lisette grabbed both his hands. “How long is a game? Two hours, give or take?”

  “Sure. Plus, coming early to hang out and watch warm-ups.”

  “Let’s say that for three hours, then, you transport those people. You take them away from their troubles. Away from work stress and cheating spouses and flunking kids and, yes, dying relatives. You take them away from bills and deadlines and the sinking feeling they’ve got a cavity and the overpacked Saturday full of errands and an oil change and dinner with the obnoxious neighbors they don’t like.”

  With a wry grin, Kurt joked, “I think I want to hear the backstory on your neighbors.”

  She pushed onward, not letting him dismiss what she said so easily. “You give them thrills. You bring them joy. You submerge them in the excitement of the game. You give them something else to think about. Something to care about. Something to root for no matter how dismal their life might be.”

  “Christ, Lisette, the love child of Superman and Jesus couldn’t live up to all that hype.”

  “What you do matters.” Lisette bit her lip. “Okay, maybe I went a little bit overboard just to get your attention. But maybe I did
n’t. Either way, hockey matters. Don’t just dismiss it. Don’t dismiss your impact.”

  “Thank you.” He ran the backs of his knuckles down the curve of her cheek with a tenderness that shot goose bumps down her spine. “I’m not sure I believe you. But it’s nice as hell to hear the words. To know that, if nothing else, at least you see me that way.”

  “That was a long way of saying that you are special. And I like to watch you skate, because it’s possibly the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  Kurt threw back his head and laughed. It was a deep, masculine sound that stirred things inside her. “That’s why you wanted me to bring you here tonight? To ogle me?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Hope you enjoyed yourself, then, because that part of the evening is over. I agreed to bring you to my work…” He waggled his eyebrows. Fine. She got that it was a little bit weird to ask him to go to his workplace on a date. But she didn’t regret it for a second. “Because I wanted to skate with you.”

  Instead of opening the door in the wall between them, Kurt reached over it. He put his hands on her waist and just lifted her over like she weighed no more than a feather pillow.

  Wow. That, right there, was almost enough foreplay for her. For the whole night.

  He set her on the ice but didn’t let go until her ankles stopped wobbling and caving in enough to keep her upright. “Guess I should ask the big question. Lisette, can you ice-skate?”

  “Yes. Sort of. I did it once. On a trip over winter break in college to Chicago. They had a rink set up right near the big silver bean sculpture on the lakefront. I got to the point where I could let go of the rail and make it…well, near the center of the ice.”

  “Practically a pro,” he teased. But the twinkle in his eyes faded immediately. “Here’s the thing: I won’t let you fall. Do you trust me?”

  Omigosh. How could she not? How could anyone not trust him with the intensity of those glacial-blue eyes focused on them? It was so easy to see the promise in Kurt’s eyes. It was so easy to read more into that promise than just a vow not to let her butt land on the ice. Easy to imagine—to hope—that his question of trust went far deeper. That it implied so much more between them.

  But it was foolish to make an assumption like that.

  Almost as foolish as imagining that she could just turn off all the feelings he stirred up in her.

  “Of course I do,” Lisette breathed out on a sigh, letting go of all the churning thoughts in her head.

  “Good.”

  Kurt wrapped her hand around his arm, then covered it with his own wide palm. He pushed off smoothly. Lisette’s start was more of a jerk. But quickly she fell into his rhythm, because Kurt kept his strides shorter, to match her own. He kept the pace slow for her. And she was able to just relax. Not be consumed with worry about keeping her balance, because she knew Kurt would keep her upright.

  Skating with him was like dancing. Graceful. Close. Intimate. Utterly romantic. There was even music playing. It was more of a pounding bass with a driving, sexy beat, but it still gave them a soundtrack. One she’d always remember.

  After he left.

  After he walked away because the heat of conquest had passed and he still looked at her and thought about the heartbreak of losing Jasper.

  But she’d always have this night, tucked away in her memories. That would be enough. Or rather, she’d accept that it had to be enough.

  “Ready to have some fun?”

  “Sure.” Because Lisette had already promised herself that she’d say yes to everything tonight.

  Kurt moved to hold both of her hands. Then their forward motion turned into more of a circle. Both arms outstretched, he planted his skates and spun her in a large arc. Lisette was tempted to throw back her head and close her eyes—although she didn’t, so as not to face-plant in front of him. Arching her back a little, leaning away from him, made it even more dangerous. More fun. She spun. The room spun. It was like flying. It was magical. It was all thanks to Kurt.

  “Show me something,” she demanded.

  “Like what?”

  “A sexy skating move.”

  “That’s not super specific. I thought all my moves made you weak in the knees,” he teased with a wickedly sexy grin that absolutely melted her insides into a puddle of lust.

  Wasn’t that ever the truth? “You know what I mean.”

  A few more slow, wide circles, and then he left her propped at the rail. “You have to promise never to tell anyone what you’re about to see.”

  “Okay.”

  In a blur of speed, Kurt raced to the opposite end of the rink. Suddenly, he lifted up in the air and did a split that had his fingers touching the tips of his skates. As he landed, he shot a cocky grin over his shoulder at Lisette. She was almost too busy forgetting to breathe to respond with a little wave. Because holy crap, that was sexy. Or at least, she thought it was. Until he launched himself into a backflip that had to be fifty percent sheer grit and the other half sheer muscles.

  Lisette clapped wildly. He skated back toward her in a series of short, airborne pirouettes. Finally, right in front of her, he dropped into a seated position with one leg out in front. He spun. Fast. Faster still. Then, like a column of water, he rose and continued into a spin so fast his features blurred.

  “You can really skate!” she said in amazement.

  “That’s why I get the big bucks.”

  Smartass. “No, I mean you can figure skate.”

  Kurt held a finger to her lips. “Like I said, don’t tell anyone. Not a soul.”

  “But why not?”

  “I’d never hear the end of it. There’s a rivalry between figure and hockey skaters. Not a lot of love or respect lost between the two.”

  “Then how did you learn to do it?”

  “I started out in figure skating as a kid. My mom was a coach, and I always tagged along with her when I was little. A hockey coach spotted me on the ice one day and co-opted me. I keep up the moves, though. When nobody’s around. It helps my game. Works the core, gives me better flexibility to dart between players.” Pushing off on one foot, he skated backward with a leg raised behind him in a perfect arabesque.

  That was what made his skating so graceful. The reason behind some of his seemingly impossible spins around an opposing center and the explanation for how he managed to leap over a downed teammate and keep going. “You took a big risk in showing me. Thank you.”

  “Well, I had an ulterior motive. You asked to see something sexy.” He held his hands out down at his sides. “So did I succeed? In making your panties wet?”

  “Yes.”

  He came closer in lazy, diagonal swoops. “You don’t think I’m taking your word for it, do you? I’m no chump.” Kurt pulled her away from the rail.

  Lisette had no clue what to expect. Certainly not the way he grabbed her beneath her arms and tossed her up in the air. As she came back down, he caught her waist and tossed her up again. Lisette was grinning and laughing too hard to be scared.

  No, that wasn’t it at all. She wasn’t scared because she knew, she knew, that no matter what, Kurt would catch her. Knew that he would put her safety, her desires, before his own. He was that good, that selfless. So she just let go and enjoyed the wholly unfamiliar sensations.

  Now they were making their way to the opposite end of the ice. Kurt kept her suspended above his head. Lisette could barely reach his shoulders to brace herself. Another bounce into the air, and this time one hand stayed in the small of her back like an anchor. The other went right between her legs to hold her high above the ice.

  It was incredible.

  It was also almost orgasmic.

  When he lowered her, it was by sliding her body inch by inch down his. The amount of strength it must’ve taken to go so slowly made her mouth water. It hardened her nipples to aching peaks. As she rubbed along his chest to land against the rock hardness below his waist, it was clear that Kurt was turned on, too.

  “Wr
ap your legs around me.”

  Lisette complied, careful not to let her blades touch his back.

  “Now take off your top.”

  Reason would say to hesitate, to at least wonder about the possibility of someone walking in on them.

  Reason didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but Kurt.

  A little awkwardly—and engaging her abs more than she did in yoga class—Lisette pulled off her long-sleeved pink Henley. Underneath she wore a matching dusky rose lace bra. Just lace. Not lined at all, so her nipples were probably visible through the whorls of the design.

  “Beautiful,” Kurt said hoarsely. “That’s exactly what I wanted. To have a picture in my mind of you here, on my home ice. Like an unwrapped present. Uncovered. Just for me.”

  Lisette was no prude. She enjoyed sex. But she still didn’t know where she found the boldness, with the music pumping and the colored lights flashing overhead, to reach back and unhook her bra. “All for you,” she said as she flung it to the edge of the rink.

  Kurt’s smooth glide across the ice stuttered. And she felt a surge of feminine pride at causing it.

  “Holy hell, that’s hot.” His fingers tightened on her butt. Dug in as though trying to burrow beneath her jeans. “Baby, I won’t be able to keep skating.”

  “That’s okay.” Her voice dropped to a near-purr. She threw all her feminine wiles into it. Because after a lifetime of taking care of other people, Lisette trusted Kurt to take care of her tonight. “We can move on to other sexy things that you’re good at.”

  Their motion stopped completely as he threw back his head and laughed. Hard. With the unfettered joy of being in the moment. Lisette felt a surge of pride and happiness at causing that, too.

  He took them to the rail with a few short, fast pushes. Then he just looked at her. The quiet filled up between them for a couple of breaths. “Are you sure you’re ready? That you want this?”

  Lisette loved that he checked in with her. Because, oh, yes. She was sure. There was only one thing that could stop her from having sex with Kurt Lundquist tonight. “I want it…if you do, too.”