On Thin Ice (A Dallas Demons Hockey Romance)

by Aven Ellis

  And not in a cute workout top.

  I put my tote into a cubby and sit on the floor to take off my shoes. I should get bonus points for getting the sticky socks right at least.

  I lift off my Demons shirt, so now I’m in my sports bra, and quickly tug on the barre besties shirt Reese gave me.

  I stand up and look in the mirror across the room, and I realize how important this moment is.

  I’m in a barre class. With a new friend. After texting my boyfriend.

  I can’t believe how my world has completely changed.

  “Ladies, good morning, my name is Aly. Please get your ball and weights and go to a mat. Let’s get ready to shake and burn!”

  I blink and find a tall, statuesque brunette standing in the middle of the room. She looks like a ballerina, all long legs. She’s obviously the instructor.

  Okay. My world is really about to change now. My thighs might never forgive me for this.

  “Here,” Reese says, handing me a ball and a pair of tiny dumbbells.

  I know barre uses light weights to add to the burn, but these are so light! I doubt my triceps will respond. Then again, I could probably pick up oil drums all day long and my stupid triceps would never respond by forming muscle.

  I follow Reese and we get two mats side by side in the front. Gah! I hate being in the front. In Northwestern, I always sat in the back at lectures so I could hide better.

  “Ladies, let’s do a little warm-up. March in place, knees up, toes pointed . . .”

  Okay. March in place. I can do this.

  We continue with some marches and side twists, and I haven’t screwed up once.

  “Now some squats. Push that booty back!” Aly instructs.

  Booty back. Done deal.

  Okay. Is it bad I’m already feeling my booty and it’s only the warm-up? Ow. My booty is already having a conversation about barre class, and I’ve worked for two minutes.

  I might not walk tomorrow.

  “All right, warm-up is over. Please go to the front of your mat and turn to your right.”

  Sweat prickles the small of my back as nerves kick in.

  “Turn to the left and tuck the ball behind your right leg. Look in the mirror! If you need to hold on to the barre please do so. Zip up your abs . . .”

  Oh my God! Aly is talking a mile a minute and I still can’t get the ball wedged behind my right leg!

  “Tuck your hips. Knees are together. Shoulders are back, not near the ears, please.”

  GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

  I’m still on step one! I’ve only managed to turn to the mirror!

  My eye starts twitching.

  Aly comes over to me, puts the ball in position, and moves my hips, still instructing non-stop the whole time.

  I swear the woman speaks without ever taking a breath.

  “Inner thighs together. Let’s grow talllllllllllllllller! Squeeze that ball! Flex that foot! Pull your heel toward the booty!” she says as she places my hand on the barre before walking away.

  I squeeze my ball and watch myself in the mirror. Whoosh! The ball shoots out from behind me and smacks Reese in the boobs.

  Oh no! My eye is twitching as I see in the mirror two girls behind me cracking up.

  This is mortifying. We haven’t even completed the first exercise, and I’ve hit my new bestie with a ball.

  But Reese is grinning as she hands me the ball back.

  “Do it again and I’m taking back my shirt,” she whispers wickedly.

  “Let’s pulse to lift that butt! Push the heel awayyyyyyyyyyy,” Aly continues, rolling on as the rest of the class begins to pulse. “Pulse ten nine eight seven . . .

  But dat ass tho, I hear Matt say in my head.

  And I realize this is funny. It’s not total trauma. Reese is laughing with me.

  Okay, I’m still twitching and sweating, and I kind of want to throw the mat over my head, but I’m not. I’m not leaving.

  I’m facing a fear.

  Something I would never have done before Matt came into my life.

  As I attempt to pulse again, I realize my game plan has changed.

  Loving Matt is making me stronger. With his support, I’m growing. I’m not ignoring my social anxiety. Or avoiding it.

  I’m beginning to love myself enough to want more for me.

  We’re such a team, I think as I successfully pulse the ball one time before it shoots out and goes rolling across the floor.

  This time, I can’t help but smile instead of freak out.

  We’re stronger together, I think as I retrieve my ball. I’m facing my fears. Matt is facing his responsibilities as a professional athlete.

  Together, we flourish. Our strength makes us stronger as individuals.

  Like right now.

  And with that thought in my head, I move to the other side and tuck the ball behind my left leg, determined to finish this class.

  Flying balls or not.

  Chapter 25

  I am so sore.

  I’m reminded of this as I shift in my desk chair. It’s one-forty in the morning, I’ve been writing for hours, and it’s time to tear myself away from my manuscript and try to sleep.

  But ouch, ouch, ouch. My butt is killing me. Along with my hamstrings and inner thighs.

  Of course, this pales to Matt, who took a stick to the face tonight that required stitches.

  I wince as I remember seeing it on TV earlier. A guy caught him under the visor with his stick and Matt immediately went down on the ice, grabbing his face.

  Since I’ve grown up with hockey, I knew exactly what happened. Yet that didn’t change the fact that I held my breath until I could see how badly he got cut and where.

  He went to the locker room and returned as soon as they could stitch up his upper lip. Matt joked about it in his post-game interviews, saying it was about time he got a good scar on his face and it would add character.

  It will be sexy, I think, clicking ‘save’ on my file.

  I can’t wait to kiss it better.

  My phone vibrates on the desktop. My pulse jumps when I realize only one person is likely to text me at this time of the morning.

  Matt.

  I reach for it—gah, my shoulder screams in agony—and flip it over.

  And it is indeed from Matt.

  Are you up?

  I grin and text him back:

  Believe it or not, yes. I’ve been writing for hours.

  Matt replies:

  Are you writing a sex scene? You might need inspiration. I could help with that. You know I’d do anything to make your novel epic. Like offer my body up for research purposes.

  I laugh and message back:

  No, my characters haven’t had sex yet.

  He responds:

  Maybe they should. Oh, and hey, can we continue this conversation inside? I feel stupid texting you from your driveway.

  What???

  I get up as fast as I can. Well, at this rate, I’m moving as fast as one of the characters in The Golden Girls, and head down the hallway toward the front door.

  And as soon as I open it, I see Matt’s Lamborghini parked in my driveway.

  The sight causes butterflies to dance manically in my stomach.

  He came straight off the charter to see me.

  Matt steps out of the car, oh so hot in his black wool overcoat and suit, and slams the door shut. I step out onto the porch, eager to greet him.

  He moves up the sidewalk and dashes up the stairs. I grin as Matt stands in front of me, his arms reaching for me and drawing me into his chest. I gaze up at him, and his eyes are shining affectionately at me.

  “Baby, how’s your cut?” I ask, gentl
y tracing my fingers near his stitches.

  “Sore,” Matt says, wrapping his fingers over mine and kissing them sweetly.

  “Let’s go inside,” I say, not wanting to risk anyone seeing us.

  I open the door, and Matt follows, shutting the door behind him. Then he slips his hands around my back, once again bringing me into his arms.

  “It’s stupid how much I missed you,” he murmurs, combing his fingers through my hair. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you. The way your skin smells so sexy. The sound of your laugh. Watching you make notes in your planner. How your body fits with mine.”

  Matt goes to kiss me, but the second he does, his stitches rub against my skin, and he stops.

  “Ugh, I can’t kiss you,” he groans, lowering his forehead to mine. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  I love him so much.

  I slide my hands up the back of his neck to his golden curls.

  “We can do things without kissing, you know,” I say, looping my fingers slowly through his hair.

  “Yeah?” Matt asks. “Do you have something in mind?”

  “Mm-hmm,” I say, stepping back from him.

  Matt’s hand reaches out to bring me to him, but I move away, tugging my Northwestern T-shirt over my head, exposing my bare breasts to him.

  Before Matt, I could never have done this. I would never have had the confidence to show my body like this to a man and feel sexy and desirable.

  But with Matt, I do.

  He sucks in his breath as I slowly undo the drawstring on my pajama pants. I see nothing but heat in his swimming-pool-blue eyes.

  I ease the pants over my hips, teasing him as I carefully push them over my thighs and down my legs. I step out of them, and I’m before him in a black lace string bikini bottom.

  And a pair of purple plaid knee-high socks.

  Matt’s whole body tenses. Need begins to build within me. I reach up and yank my hair out of the elastic band that was holding it up, and my locks tumble down past my shoulders. I shake it free and bite my lip as I see how much Matt wants to make love to me.

  “Holly,” Matt whispers, his voice ragged.

  “Wait,” I say. “I believe I promised you I’d answer the door in nothing but knee socks.”

  I lower my hands to my panties and slowly take them off, leaving them on the floor.

  Matt doesn’t speak. I see how much he wants me, and my body burns hot even before he puts a hand on me.

  “I have to touch you,” Matt demands. “Now.”

  Then in one step, he’s all over me.

  Our bodies entwine as Matt lifts me up so I’m wrapped around him. We grow desperate, and I rip at Matt’s tie as he lowers me to the sofa.

  His hands cup my bottom as I undo his tie. I can feel him against me, and empowerment fills me. I make him feel this way. Me.

  Just as I am.

  “God, I need you,” Matt says urgently. “I’ve never needed anyone like I need you.”

  As we begin to make love, I know Matt means those words.

  And that’s all I need to know.

  “So,” Matt says, playing with my hair, “how was your day?”

  We’re naked on the sofa, entwined in each other’s arms after having incredibly hot sex.

  I caress the side of his face with my hand. “Yeah, I guess we kind of skipped the whole greeting thing.”

  Matt runs his hand through my hair. “I don’t know, your strip tease knee-sock intro was a freaking hot greeting.”

  Now I’m blushing.

  “I’m amazed I could do it considering how sore I am from barre,” I admit. Then I arch an eyebrow at him. “But I think my desire for you overtook the fact that my muscles are screaming at me.”

  “Hmm. You might need to take a hot bath. I will join you, of course, to make sure you don’t slip or fall.”

  “And check the water temperature,” I suggest.

  “Yes. You should be monitored. For safety reasons.”

  We both laugh.

  “I’m so damn proud of you, though,” Matt says, his expression becoming serious. “I know it wasn’t easy to take that class.”

  I nod. “It wasn’t. But I lived. I made a fool of myself, but I did it.”

  “You did, sweetheart. You did.”

  I beam in happiness.

  “I did,” I say, still amazed at myself. “Oh, and when I was leaving, I noticed they had an opening for a part-time studio receptionist. I applied for it.”

  Matt furrows his brow. “But what about some kind of writing job?”

  I sigh. “That will come with time. I’m still looking, but I need to do something to pay the bills right now. This would be perfect. It’s part-time, so I’d still have a lot of time to work on my novel. And I’d get free classes, too.”

  “So you’re going to keep working on dat ass tho?”

  And as he says it, he sneaks his hand up underneath my ass.

  I laugh and playfully push his hand away.

  “Well, I need to keep up with your ‘Tumblr reposted a million times’ ass.”

  Now we’re both laughing.

  “I don’t have practice tomorrow,” Matt says. “We can spend the day together. What do you want to do?”

  I smile at him. “Nate has an appearance at a cat café for his animal charity. I told him I’d go. You can go with me. He knows we hang out together, so it wouldn’t raise a red flag.”

  “Did you say cat café?”

  I laugh. “Yes. It’s run by the organization he supports. It’s a café where you pay a fee to get to play with cats for an hour. The cats live there, and they all are up for adoption. It’s called a café because you can bring your own drink.”

  “So you want to go play with cats?”

  I nod. “I do. I love cats.” Then I shoot him a serious look. “Do you?”

  “I’m neutral on cats,” Matt says, sexily running a fingertip over my mouth. “But I’m sure you can convince me to love them.”

  I stare up into his eyes, full of light and happiness.

  Yes, I think. I can get you to love them.

  And I have a feeling I’m getting closer to having you fall in love with me, too.

  Chapter 26

  The Game Plan For January 10th

  Get coffee.

  Go with Matt to Nate’s appearance at Le Chat Café.

  Tell Matt to not let me bring home a cat.

  Ask Kylie if I can keep a cat.

  Make note in big planner in June to get a cat when I get my own place.

  “What do you want?” Matt asks as we wait in line at the Roast & Grind.

  It’s around ten o’clock, and we’re grabbing drinks before we head over to see Nate at Le Chat Café.

  “I’ll have an Earl Grey latte,” I say. “What about you?”

  “Cookie dough frozen coffee.”

  I laugh. “How healthy of you.”

  Matt’s mouth curves up in that sexy smirk. “If you don’t tell the coach, nobody will know I’m off the eating plan.”

  I make a lock gesture in front of my lips. “Your sugar-loaded coffee drinking secret is safe with me.”

  Matt laughs, but stops as he looks past me, and then he clears his throat and tugs down on the Demons baseball hat he has on.

  I glance over my shoulder, and I see a guy shooting us with his cell phone.

  It’s weird. I’m used to this being around Nate, but it does makes me realize we need to be careful in public though. At least until we tell Nate we’re in love.

  And that can’t happen until Matt declares those feelings for me.

  “Excuse me, Matt, can I get a picture with you?”

  I turn back around, a
nd a young woman around my age is smiling eagerly at Matt to say yes.

  “Sure,” Matt says.

  “Ah, thank you!” she cries excitedly.

  “I’ll take it,” Matt says.

  The girl looks like she’s about to pass out.

  She hands Matt the camera with a shaking hand, and he leans in next to her for a selfie.

  “On three,” Matt says. “One, two, three.”

  He snaps the picture. She thanks him and goes back to the end of the line, where she looks at her phone. I see a smile light up her face, and I know how she feels.

  Because even though Matt is now my boyfriend, he still makes me feel like that, too.

  We order our drinks and then head back outside to his car. It’s a beautiful morning in Dallas, sunshine and open skies. Warmer, too, in the fifties already.

  “Okay, where is this cat café?” Matt asks as we get into his car.

  “Not far from here,” I say. “I’ll put it in your navigation system.”

  I key in the address, and we head out. I study Matt as he drives. Today, he’s wearing a black baseball hat and Demons zip-up hoodie. His golden curls peek out from the back of the hat, and I love how it looks. And how I know what those curls feel like against my fingertips.

  “I’ve been thinking,” Matt says, interrupting my thoughts as he drives, “about what kind of charity I want to throw my name behind.”

  “Yeah?” I know Matt has always donated money to causes, but he hasn’t picked a particular charity to champion like Nate does with animals, or Harrison Flynn does with his foundation for mental illness.

  “Well,” Matt says, “you know how hockey was so important to me growing up. Hockey gave me a place to call home. A place where I was wanted.”

  Tears pool in my eyes. Matt’s mom didn’t really want him, his grandparents didn’t want him, his dad didn’t want him. But the local hockey community did, and that’s what saved him. This is why the sport is so important to him.

  “I want to bring hockey to kids who wouldn’t otherwise get the opportunity to play,” he says, keeping his eyes on the road. “I want to fund teams and pay for equipment, team fees, stuff like that. And I want to do camps for kids who can’t afford to go. I don’t want financial limitations to keep boys and girls who want to play out of the game.”