Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 80045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
“Speaking of opponents,” I say. “For our first game, are you going to wear my name on your back?” I smirk, delight slicing through me at the quick flash of shock in her eyes.
“I'll be wearing my own jersey,” she answers. “Now let's work on your explosion.”
“All business,” I say, returning to the starting position, her following me and coming to my left side.
“That’s kind of the idea for private lessons, isn't it?” She adjusts her stance to match mine, which is slightly bent at the knees, one arm facing the direction she wants us to go.
“For sure,” I say. “But what's work without a little pleasure?”
She groans just a little.
“Oh, don't tell me you're regretting your decision to tutor me, Coach,” I tease, unable to help myself. She's holding back a laugh, and I'm desperate for her to break free. “Remember this isn't just about me.”
“It's not?” she asks sarcastically. “I was quite certain that everything was about you.” Her smile deepens.
“I mean, naturally,” I say gesturing to myself. “Look at me. Why wouldn't everything be about me?”
Blakely breaks her coach character for all of five seconds, her eyes trailing me up and down just like I suggested. And damn she takes her time looking. I can tell she likes what she sees, even though I'm fully decked out in hockey gear at the moment.
She clears her throat, shaking her head. “Let's work on that new crossover start,” she says not missing a beat. “I want you to watch me and then mimic.”
She doesn't even give me time to answer before she explodes across the rink, her skates cracking against the ice as she digs the blades in, giving her more power before she shoots off into a glide.
Fuck me, she's fast.
Fast and precise.
Her body moves like lightning across the ice. It's one of the sexiest things I've ever seen, and I've dated a few amateur skaters before. There's something about Blakely that checks every box I didn't know I had, and watching her like this? Even when she's riding me about form and technique? It's almost unnerving how much I'm enjoying it.
Blakely skids to a stop across the rink, then nods at me.
I set up in the right position, and then mimic her exact movements, putting every ounce of muscle I have behind the move to hopefully beat her time. Not out of any masculine need to do better than her, but because I'm desperate to impress the woman.
My quads ache as I bolt across the ice, but I can't deny that her technique is better than the standard one I've been using all these years. It's only a minor adjustment from what I'm used to, but it makes a shit-ton of difference in terms of power in my acceleration.
I make it to Blakely quickly, pride radiating from me as I skid to a stop next to her, knowing I executed the move with perfection.
“Good,” she says giving me a brief nod. “Again.”
I groan under my breath, but I'm smiling as I escape back to the starting point and run the crossover move again.
And again.
And by the time our hour is almost up, I'm certain I won't be able to walk off this ice without limping.
“Okay, let's stretch,” Blakely says, and I mutter thank fuck before dropping to the ice.
Blakely laughs, dropping down to the ice to lead me in a leg stretch.
“Finally,” I say.
“Oh come on, I wasn't that hard on you for our first lesson,” she says, bending her body toward one outstretched leg, making it look much easier than I do.
I can feel the stretch and breathe into it.
“Not finally the lesson is over,” I correct her. “Finally you laughed. I was beginning to think you weren't having any fun.”
Blakely shakes her head, switching to her other leg. “I always have fun on the ice, but that doesn't mean I don't take it seriously.”
I can definitely respect that. “How did you get this job anyway?”
She sits up a little straighter at my question, something like accusation rolling across her features. “What do you mean how did I get this job?”
“Exactly how it sounds?” I ask, not sure why she's confused. “It's a pretty niche career field, so what made you want to do this instead of competing or trying out for the Olympics or something?”
“Oh,” she says, stretching one arm across her chest. “I’ve done the competition thing since I was five, and all throughout college too.” Something tense flashes in her eyes, but she quickly moves on. “But hockey has always been a great love of mine. Since I was ten, even though I’d been figure skating for five years, I wanted to be a part of a professional hockey team. Even though I knew I wouldn't be playing for the NHL, I wanted to be involved. I wanted to be an integral part of a team, an asset that helps with a winning season.”