Spiral (Off the Ice, #2) (28)
“Excuse me?”
“I want you to beg. Extra points if you get on your knees.”
He raises a brow. “Is this fueling some fantasy of yours?”
“My fantasies are a lot more graphic than that, Elias.”
Bemused, he shakes his head, then shifts to lower himself to his knees. Before he can really start begging on his knees, my arms shoot out to stop his descent, checking around us to see if anyone’s watching. I burst into laughter, smacking his arm as I try to catch my breath. “Oh my God. You totally called my bluff.”
He blinks in confusion, and that serious look doesn’t drop from his face. He stands, and even when I’m wearing heels, he’s so much taller than me.
“So, you’ll do it?” he asks with a smidge of hope resting between his eyebrows.
“Yes.”
His smile is bright, and I can’t help but return it. “Your uncle is going to hate me.”
“If it makes you feel any better, he already does.”
My uncle is hard on his players because he wants them to be the best. That’s what happens when the team hasn’t won a Stanley Cup in years. People get frustrated.
When Elias extends his hand, I take it, walking behind him but feeling the burn in my feet with each step. Damn Derek and his foot fetish. Somehow, he cursed my feet.
“What’s wrong?”
I shrug. “I had rehearsals yesterday. My feet are punishing me for wearing these heels now.”
Elias stops walking and stands in front of me with his back turned. I stare at the dark T-shirt stretched across his back. “Come on.”
I balk. “You want to carry me?”
“We both know it’s not the first time.”
Biting back a smile, I contemplate whether to do it, but when he crouches, I don’t hesitate. My dress is long enough that it flows around me and doesn’t give anyone a free show. Then, as he lifts me up, I feel an instant relief of pressure on my soles.
He walks back into the bar instead of around the complex like I half expected, and straight across to the front exit, where all eyes are on us.
That girl from the picture, who was laughing when he carried her through the streets of downtown, pries herself out again. Here, I feel safe, and I don’t suppress my laughter.
When we’re out of the bar and heading to his car, he turns to where I rest my chin on his shoulder. “Is this how we’re always going to end our night?”
“Me pressed against you?” I hold him a little tighter. “God, I hope so.”
He chuckles. “There she is.”
THIRTEEN
ELIAS
THIS IS THE first week since I was eighteen that I haven’t had my recurring nightmare.
It starts with both my parents looming over my bed with a look of horror painted across their faces. My mom’s crying, and my dad is shaking his head in disappointment. A searing pain pounds against my skull as light flickers in through the window. Then, I’m transported back to a dirty house where a woman is screaming in the kitchen, and a man cracks his beer bottle against the countertop. It’s that sight that jerks me back to consciousness.
The frequency of those nightmares fluctuates depending on whether or not I’m stressed. In college, they were rare, but since joining the league, they’re relentless. I anticipated one last night, but it never came. There’s only been one change, and it should be stressing me out because I hate lying.
But there hasn’t been much logic involved when it comes to my decision-making skills lately. The only pushback I received about my dating life was from Aiden.
“This whole fake relationship thing is not you, Eli,” he’d said. “You haven’t lied a day in your life, but now you’re doing it just to get the media off your back?”
I told him I cared what the fans thought, but he wasn’t convinced.
“And you think this is better? Forget the media. You haven’t been in a relationship in years, and the first one you’re in is fake. I hope you know what you’re doing. But know if you ever feel yourself getting to that place again, I’m here for you. We all are.”
That place is when I found out my biological father was blackmailing my parents. I didn’t let that ruin my life, and I won’t let this get to me either. I know what I’m doing.
So Sage and I decided to meet to iron out the details to avoid someone unraveling our plan as quickly as Aiden did. But she’s pushed that coffee date three times. Today, as I head home from the gym, she texts me the same excuse.
Rain check? Another ballet emergency.
I’m not sure what kinds of emergencies occur in ballet, but they can’t be serious enough to delay our meeting by a week. Especially since our game against Chicago is on Saturday, and I’m hoping we can talk before I leave for the weekend.
“Wanna order takeout?”
I glance up from my phone as Aiden enters the living room, towel drying his wet hair.
Deciding not to dwell on Sage’s message, I toss my phone on the couch. “Nah, I’m in the mood to cook today.”
He nods appreciatively, sinking into the couch and powering on the game console. It’s the usual time for the guys at Dalton to join in, so they play together. “What are you making?”
“Tacos.”