Rinkmates: A steamy Hockey Romance (The Mates series Book 1)

“You’re crazy,” I grunt out as I tape up Liora’s blue thumb again. “Most people would rest an injury like this.”

She just smiles, flexing her fingers gingerly. She was incredibly brave facing Sandford again, and while we waited at the hospital, she shared her plan to finish law school and come back to finish him. I absolutely love the idea. But the best part was when she told me she wasn’t afraid to see him again because I was by her side. Hearing that made my heart swell.

“Good thing I’m not most people then. A little tape and some painkillers, and I’ll be fine. I’ve skated through worse,” she says.

That competitive fire in her eyes—it’s the same look that drew me to her in the first place. That relentless drive to be the best. I shake my head but can’t shake my smile. That’s so hot. “All right, ice queen. Let’s go warm up then.”

We kick off the session with some dynamic stretching, and Liora insists on pushing through, even though she winces when putting weight on her taped hand. I promised her I’d stay professional, but it’s a tough promise to keep with her perfect ass constantly tempting me. The way it flexes? It’s a death sentence. My thoughts are getting as intrusive as those annoying pop-up ads online—which, let’s be honest, is saying a lot.

When we lace up our skates and hit the rink, I find it hard to keep up with her fluid movements, feeling like a hockey oaf next to her graceful glides.

“Bend your knees more on the mohawks,” she instructs as she demonstrates a flawless three turn. “And keep your free leg straight.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I say and mimic her motions clumsily, almost eating it on the slick ice. Her musical laughter echoes through the empty rink. God, what I wouldn’t do to bottle up that beautiful sound. Maybe, just maybe I played a little extra clumsy to see her smile more. Just maybe. I’m an addict. Sue me.

We run basic drills for thirty minutes until a sheen of sweat glazes both our brows. When she wants to start on the choreo she came up with Aiden, I hold up a hand to stop her. “Actually, I had another idea.”

Her delicate brows shoot up in surprise as I pull out my phone and sync it to the rink’s sound system. When the lyrics of “The Bad Touch” by the Bloodhound Gang blast through the speakers, Liora’s jaw drops. I give her an eyebrow waggle and start gyrating my hips to the provocative beat.

“What. The. Heck. Are. You. Doing?” Her eyes go wide as I shake my booty. To top it off, I even put on my shades. Yes, baby.

“Improving your choreography!” I shout over the music, launching into an absolutely ridiculous dance involving pelvic thrusts and jazz hands. I look like the world’s worst male stripper, but I just don’t care.

It works—Liora bursts into another fit of giggles, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she doubles over with laughter. No sound in the world could ever top that. I’d make a complete fool of myself every day if it means keeping that smile on her face.Property © NôvelDrama.Org.

Especially after that weekend. She was so down that I just needed to make her laugh and have fun with me.

When I told my coach I was dedicating four hours a day to training with Liora, he thought I’d lost my mind. But watching her twirl on the ice, blonde ponytail whipping behind her and blue eyes sparkling with joy, I knew I’d made the right call. I’d put in double shifts, triple shifts, whatever it took to make this work.

Because that girl? She is worth it.

I’d do anything to make her dreams come true. I’d hand over a million dollars in a heartbeat, but I know she wants to achieve it on her own. If I can’t help with money, at least I can support her with my exceptional ice dancing skills—even if that means air-humping in the middle of the rink to a song about “getting it on” like animals on the Discovery Channel.

Liora snorts and skates over to swat my arm. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“Ridiculously charming and talented? I agree.”

“More like a ridiculously bad dancer.”

I clutch my chest in mock pain. “You wound me! I thought that choreo was pure gold.”

“In your dreams, hotshot.” She rolls her eyes, but her smile stays firmly in place. “Now let’s run it again from the top, and this time, leave your disco moves in the nineties where they belong.”

She rolls her eyes again, clapping her hands like I’m a cattle to move, and we launch into practicing her real choreography, my muscles still aching from our session back at the pool house the other day. But no way in hell am I going to mention that to Liora. Ever. She has enough on her mind with the competition looming just days away, so it’s the least I can do not to make her worry about my extremely manly muscles, right?

Our pairing seems to have the whole country buzzing.

Especially after those kissing pics of us from the gala “leaked” online. I’m pretty sure Grace is cackling with glee at all the free publicity. Even the network execs are banking on our star power, hyping up our dance as a must-see moment. Ethan texts me that they expect it to be one of the most watched episodes ever. No pressure or anything.

I glance over at Liora, at the determined set of her delicate jaw as she marks out her steps. Most people look at her and see a pretty blonde ice princess.

But I see the fighter beneath, the girl who claws her way to the top and keeps getting back up no matter how many times life knocks her down. They call me crazy for doing this. A hockey player trying to figure skate on live TV? But they don’t know Liora James like I do. And if she thinks I can do this, well then…I sure as hell am going to prove my babygirl right.

“Okay, let’s run it again from the top,” Liora calls out after reviewing the video she made of our performance. “And this time, really lift through your core on that overhead press. I should look weightless.”

I flash her a cocky grin. “Babe, you’re always like a feather in these arms. I am bench-pressing two of you on a regular gym day.”

“Less talking, more lifting, Huntington.”

“Yes, Coach.” I mock salute before skating over to our starting position.

The music starts and we’re off, gliding and spinning across the ice in perfect sync.

I hoist her effortlessly overhead, reveling in the feel of her lithe frame in my hands.

We move through the choreography seamlessly, like we’ve been doing this for years instead of mere days. I’ve never felt so in tune with another person before, so completely in the moment. And as the final notes fade away, I lower her gently to her feet, our faces mere inches apart.

Her blue eyes sparkle up at me, alive with exhilaration and something else I can’t quite name. “That is…”

“Amazing,” she finishes breathlessly.

“Riley, I think we might actually pull this off.” I tighten my grip on her waist, drawing her closer. “Told you, Lia. You and me? We can do anything.”

She bites her lip, suddenly shy. She looks so cute with these red cheeks. “I want to try something. It may go wrong but don’t freak out, okay?”

Before I can respond, she is off again, building speed with each powerful stroke. I watch, heart in my throat, as she launches herself into the air, spinning so fast she is a blur of blonde hair, black training clothes, and flashing blades.

One rotation, two, three…holy shit.

She does it—a flawless triple axel.

I let out a whoop as she lands, knees bending to absorb the impact. She glides over to me, flushed and triumphant.

“Fucking shit. Liora, that is incredible!”

She shakes her head, ponytail bouncing. “I pre-rotated on the entry. It was sloppy.”

“Looked damn near perfect to me.” I take her hand, tugging her closer. “You should throw it in the routine. Give people something to really talk about.”

“I don’t know…haven’t landed it cleanly in years. Not since…” she trails off, eyes darkening with old ghosts.

“Hey.” I tilt her chin up, forcing her to meet my gaze. “This isn’t Beijing. This is here and now. And you, Liora James, are the most talented skater I have ever seen. You are going to nail that triple axel and blow everyone away. I feel it.”

A slow smile spreads across her face, chasing away those damn shadows I hate so much. We grin at each other, lost in our own little bubble, until the shrill beep of my smart watch bursts it. “Shit,” I glare at my watch as if I’m ready to kill it. “I’m supposed to meet with the team in like twenty minutes.”

Liora gives me a light shove. “Go. Be the hockey star you are. I’ll work on polishing the ending.”

I hesitate, hating to leave. These stolen hours on the ice with her have quickly become the best part of my day. “Can’t wait for tomorrow. Prepare to have your socks knocked off by my dizzying spins.”

“Can’t wait.”

She stretches up on her tiptoes to press a sweet kiss to my lips. But a peck is never enough for me—not when it comes to her—so I gently pull her closer, dipping her slightly as I kiss her deeply and fully, savoring the moment.

Once I’ve managed to say goodbye, her laughter follows me out the door, and I can’t keep the dopey smile off my face the whole drive to the arena.

Damn, I have it bad.

She didn’t say she loves me, too, but I don’t need her words. Her actions tell me she does too.

We will hunt those demons she has.

I want to see that smile on her face daily.

But I don’t, because with May 28 approaching, her smiles seem to be fading day by day.

I know she’s nervous, since there are only eighteen hours left until the show. But the way she constantly touches that tattoo on her wrist makes me worry.

Is she trying to rub it off?

I don’t ask, but I watch closely, ready to catch her if she falls.

She tries to hide it, putting on a brave face in public, but I see the hurt in her eyes in the quiet moments. When we eat, when she gets dressed or when we lie in bed reading, when she stares at her wrist instead of the words on the page.

Sometimes I’ll take her hand and hold onto that tattoo for her, hoping it brings some comfort.

I even bought her a necklace as a gift, foolishly thinking it would bring back that smile I crave, only to be scolded for spending money on her. I just want to treat my princess like she deserves, but she’s so stubborn and insists on earning everything herself.

I had to practically beg her to keep that necklace. When she asked how much it cost, I said three. She assumed three hundred and scolded me even more.

Little does she know, it was actually three thousand. She would kill me if she knew. Can’t a man spoil his woman once in a while? Unbelievable.