Kane (Face-Off 2)

She has her back flat against the wall, the bottom of her shoe pressed into the painted cinderblock, as she stares down at her cell phone, scrolling through her feed.

“Ready, babe?” I call out, loud enough for her to hear me and look up at her screen.

She picks her skates up from the floor, slings them over her shoulder, and stuffs her phone back into her purse. “Yeah, let’s do this. It’s been a few years since I skated so keep that in mind. I am rusty as fuck and will fall at least a few times unless you hold onto me.”

“I’m glad you know how to skate,” I say, steering her away from the locker room and down the long hall that leads to the rink. “But we don’t need you falling on your ass and breaking something.”

She blows out a puff of air. “Please, Tyler, give me some credit. I can balance my weight on the skates. Just don’t expect me to make any figure skater moves and we’ll be fine.”

I stop her before we get to the rink entrance and have her sit down with me on the ground to put on her skates. Having done this more times than I can count over the years, I get mine on and laced up in record timing. Kennedy fumbles with the strings, so I take the reigns and help her lace them up.

“Here,” I say, offering her my hand as I push myself up to stand on my skates.

She peeks up at me beneath those wide, blue eyes that suck me in every time and extends her arm so I can help her to her feet.

Pulled up into a short ponytail, her blonde hair hangs over her shoulder, the ends slightly curled. Kennedy wears a minimal amount of makeup on a regular day—when she’s in reporter mode—but today she’s even more dressed down than normal. She’s beautiful and even more so when she doesn’t even try. Something about her lack of effort makes her more real to me.

While Kennedy has plenty of clothes and accessories, a result of coming from wealth, she’s no longer living like a spoiled rich girl. And she stopped wearing those stupid outfits that I knew had to be a joke. Because who would wear things like that at her age? I figured she had to be playing games with me—either that or seeking attention.

Instead, she fessed up and told me about her little experiment with her friend, Sydney Carroway, the famous romance author.

With Kennedy in my arms, she wraps herself around me like a koala bear hanging onto its mother. She’s very affectionate today, more so than usual. It must be all the sex we’ve had over the past week. Ever since we met at Broad Street Beans for coffee and I spilled my guts, we have been fucking like crazy.

Now that I have a few months off before the next season begins, I have plenty of time to hang out with Kennedy before our summer training starts.

I hold onto Kennedy as she steps onto the ice, her body trembling as she tries to gain her balance. For me, ice skating is no different than walking on a flat surface. I had played for so long, learned how to skate long before I ever picked up a stick, that this part comes naturally to me. Clearly, Kennedy is rustier than she had thought.

As we glide along the ice, my arm hooked through hers and holding her in place, she holds her left hand out at her side. I guess she thinks that will somehow help her maintain her balance.

I laugh to myself, and of course, she notices. This woman doesn’t miss a beat.

“You think this is funny, don’t you?” She flashes daggers in my direction, her expression softening, and a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“It’s a little bit funny. You were the one who proclaimed you knew how to skate and said this would be a good idea.”

Taking her by the hand, I skate out in front of her and grab hold of her other hand, moving backwards as I drag her along.

“You’re such a show off,” she says, shaking her head, a pout on her lips. “And you’re doing this to make me look stupid.”

“I do this all the time just not when dragging a beautiful woman along for the ride. This is a lot more fun with you.”

Her frown quickly turns into a tiny smile. She turns her head to look around the rink as I pick up the pace, the wind blowing her ponytail off her shoulder.

Kennedy giggles, a thick but childish laugh that sounds so fucking sexy all I can think about now is the noises she makes when she comes. And now I want her to come for me. She’s so fucking beautiful, natural and innocent, and the sad part is she has no clue.

Oblivious to the world, she sees herself as the shadow of her famous, model type friend. But I see her in a different light.

“Stop staring at me like that,” she says, turning away from me, the blush spreading from her cheeks and down to her chest.

“I can’t help it.” I grin like a fucking idiot. “You’re beautiful.”

She smiles so wide it reaches up to her bright blue eyes. “You’re sweet, Tyler, but you don’t have to say things like that to get me to sleep with you again.”

“Just stating a fact, babe.”

As we skate around the rink, I think of the last time I did this with a girl and Payton comes to mind. I did the same thing with her when we were in high school. Our first unofficial date was at the ice skating rink close to my house. We went with a group of our friends, but even so, it was still what I would consider our first date.

I suppose Kennedy is considering this our first date as well, which makes me feel like a jerk knowing that I used the same moves on the last girl—except that was over ten years ago. Does the thought count? I wanted this day to be special for her, for me even, because it has been far too long since Payton, and I want to start this relationship off on the right foot.