She made a guilty face. “Technically, I said, If I couldn’t skate, would you teach me?”
“Hmm . . .” I dragged the sound out, letting her squirm just a little. Mainly because I loved teasing her. She responded so beautifully to it.
“You mad?” she asked, slightly winded.
“Do I look mad, Snoopy?”
Her nose wrinkled cutely as she peered at me. “No . . . you look . . . weirdly smug.”
Was that what she saw?
Grinning wide, I gave her a chance to skate a bit away; then I rushed her, scooping her up in my arms as she squealed in shock. Her thighs wrapped around my hips, and she clung to me. “Lucian!”
I kissed her forehead. “I’ve got you.”
“You’ve got me; who’s got you?” she quipped, relaxing a bit.
“Did you just quote super-campy seventies Superman to me?” I asked, chuckling.
“You started it.” She held on a little tighter. “With your superhero body and whatnot.”
“Whatnot?” I nuzzled her cheek, kissing my way along her soft skin as I took a lazy circuit around the rink.
“Skating with me in your arms like it’s no big deal,” she grumped while tilting her head enough to let me nip the edge of her jawline.
“You’re light as a feather,” I said. She snorted, and I kissed her again. “Tell me more about this superhero-body thing, though.”
“Put me down, and I’ll show you all my favorite highlights.”
“Hold on,” I instructed, then spun her around as she laughed and screeched. I set her down by the boards but kept my arms around her. “Where’d you learn to skate like that?”
Good to her word, her hands smoothed over my chest, stroking with appreciation. “There was a rink about two blocks from my house. I’d go there after school and take classes.”
My hands found their way to the plump curve of her ass. “You have no idea how much it turns me on that you can skate.”
“I have some idea.” Her hips pressed against mine. “A pretty prominent clue there, Lucian.”
“You are so getting some when we get home, Em.”
She burst out laughing, her eyes sparking with humor. “I had no idea you were so easy.”
“Yes, you did.” I dipped my head and caught her mouth with mine, kissing her slow and deep, luxuriating in the warmth of her mouth against the relatively cold air. It swept over me that I was on the ice, enjoying myself. Happy. I was happy.
“Thank you,” I said when we parted.
Her lips were slightly swollen and softly parted. “For what?”
“Bringing me here, getting me on the ice.” I touched her cheek, brushing away an errant strand of her hair. “I didn’t think I’d ever enjoy any aspect of skating again. But this is good. Necessary.”
So was she. She had slid into my life at one of the worst possible times, and yet now that she was here, the thought of letting her go was unimaginable. Gratitude flooded me, and I rested my forehead against hers. As though she knew I was undone, she wound her arms around my waist and hugged me.
Before Emma, I didn’t put much stock in hugging lovers. I hadn’t seen the point of hugging unless it was a family member. I wasn’t ashamed to admit I craved them from Emma. The press of her smaller curves against my larger frame made me want to cradle her with care. But the way she held me tight made me feel protected. And wasn’t that a mindfuck?
I wrapped her up in my arms and grunted, wanting to tell her how much she meant to me but unable to form any actual words.
“I’ll do the charity event,” was what I ended up saying.
She kissed the center of my chest. “You’re a good man, Lucian. And I’m proud of you.”
I couldn’t understand why she would be; all I’d done with my life was play hockey to the best of my ability, but I’d take her praise and hold it close. I didn’t know how long we stood there; it felt so good I had no inclination to move. But eventually, she eased back.
“Come on then; let me see how fast you can go.”
“You want me to show off for you, Em?”
“I do.”
“Well then.” I pushed off and did just that.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Emma
The Raston fundraiser took place in Los Angeles, with a daytime skate and greet for the children and an evening dinner for all the donors. Lucian fell silent and tense on the drive down, but every so often, he’d reach out and rest his hand on my knee, as if to say he was still there with me.
I left him to his solitude, knowing that sometimes you had to work through some things yourself. If he needed me, I’d be here. By the time we arrived at the Staples Center, his leg bounced in an agitated rhythm as he scowled at the looming stadium.
“Hey,” I said before we pulled up to the valet service, which was parking cars for other players.
Wintergreen eyes shadowed under severe brows looked my way. I wondered if he truly saw me in his disquiet. In deference to his beloved sport’s rules, he wore a light-gray suit and ice-blue tie, which made him both devastatingly handsome and closed off.
“You got this.” I touched his bouncing knee. “They love you.”
Pale and pinched around the mouth, he stared at me, then blinked once. As if coming out of a trance, he took a long breath and gave me a tight smile. “I’m okay, Snoop.”
I didn’t think either of us was fooled, but he would be okay. I believed that much. I had to.
We went our separate ways once inside, Lucian instantly hailed and surrounded by his former teammates and fellow hockey players as I was ushered to a VIP section roped off for players’ guests.
“Who are you here for?” asked a woman around my age with gorgeous raven hair that fell in a glossy sheet down her slim back. She looked familiar, but I couldn’t place her.
“Lucian,” I said, and she frowned, clearly not recognizing his name. “Luc Osmond.”
Her expression cleared, and she smiled wide. “Oz is here? Really?”
“Yes.”
“Oh my God, I’m so happy to hear that. We’ve really missed him, you know?”
Pride surged through me, and I found myself smiling back. Beaming, really. Because she was obviously excited, and Lucian was my man.
The woman stuck out her hand. “I’m May Chan. Drexel Harris is my husband.”
We shook hands, when her name finally sank in. “Not the May Chan who owns Daisy Chain?”
“The very one.”
I’d shopped at one of her vintage clothing stores a few times but had seen her only from afar. “I love your place. You have the best clothes.”
May eyed my vintage 1940s A-line dress in dark-blue linen with little embroidered maroon butterflies on the bodice and grinned. “That’s from Daisy Chain, isn’t it?”
“It is.”
“Another satisfied customer. Just what I love to see.”
Our laughs cut short as the program began. The lights dimmed, and onto the ice came the hockey players, each of them escorted by a child on skates. It looked so damned cute, I found myself clapping and grinning wide. The players were announced in alphabetical order. As they neared Lucian’s name, my insides clenched in anticipation.