Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 79328 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79328 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
“I took ballet for years as a kid,” she said, leaning forward with enthusiasm. “I was never very good, but I loved it.”
“Can you still do a pirouette?” Dylan asked, eyes bright with curiosity.
“I haven’t tried in about fifteen years, but…” Raina set down her wine glass and stood, smoothing her dress. “Let’s find out.”
She kicked off her sandals, found a clear spot near the window, and positioned herself carefully. Dylan scrambled up to join her, demonstrating the proper form with the easy confidence of someone who practiced daily.
Then, together, they spun.
Dylan’s pirouette seemed flawless. Multiple rotations, perfect balance, graceful arms. Raina’s was… less polished. She wobbled slightly on the landing and had to catch herself on the windowsill. But she was laughing, her face flushed with delight, and Dylan was clapping and offering tips for next time.
I didn’t know anything about dance moves, but watching Raina—unselfconscious and joyful, connecting so effortlessly with my niece—made something warm expand in my chest.
When she rejoined me on the loveseat, slightly breathless, I leaned in close to her ear. “So… dancers are pretty flexible, right?”
She grinned, catching my meaning immediately. “That was the first time I’ve done any ballet in about fifteen years, so don’t get too excited.”
“Too late.”
Her laugh was soft and pleased, and she pressed closer against my side just as Shannon cried out, “Look at Miles go!” while pointing at the screen.
The third period had just begun, and Miles had possession of the puck. His movements were fluid and lightning-fast as he wove through defenders, heading toward the net. Anticipation coiled tight in my gut. I leaned forward, watching closely, aware of Raina doing the same beside me. The camera tracked his progression, but there was movement all over the ice—
Between one heartbeat and the next, Miles was slammed into the boards.
He hit hard. His legs buckled, his body crumpling until he was sprawled on the ice, motionless. Someone from the opposing team scooped up the puck and skated away, but no one in my living room cared about that.
Raina made a sound low in her throat—dismayed, frightened—and Kurt cursed viciously. I grabbed Raina’s hand as I silently willed Miles to get up.
The room had gone silent. Even the twins were still, watching with wide eyes. Seconds stretched into eternity. Then one of Miles’s teammates skated over and extended a hand. Miles grasped it and was pulled to his feet. Unsteady at first, swaying slightly, but upright. After a moment, he skated off the ice under his own power, heading for the bench.
Raina exhaled a long, shaky breath. She looked at me with a tremulous smile. “I was worried there for a second.”
Before I could offer comfort, Dylan appeared beside us. The little girl patted Raina’s shoulder with solemn sympathy, and Shannon materialized with the wine bottle, topping off Raina’s glass.
“Hockey players are tough,” Fallon said gently from across the room. “He’ll be okay.”
One by one, everyone offered comfort in their own way. A kind word, a reassuring smile, a squeeze on the shoulder. I sat there watching, something warm spreading through my chest that had nothing to do with the relief of seeing Miles skate off the ice.
Raina fit here. Effortlessly, naturally, as if she belonged in my world. It felt right in a way I’d never experienced before.
The game ended with a narrow win for the Lynx. Miles had returned to the ice for the final minutes, looking none the worse for wear, and the winning goal had sent my living room into chaos—cheering, high-fives, the twins jumping up and down.
Now, as the excitement faded and people began gathering their things to leave, I made a decision. I came up behind Raina while she was saying goodbye to Wren, placing my hands on her hips and pressing a kiss to the curve of her neck. She shuddered as she closed the door after our last guest, leaning back into me instinctively.
“Stay tonight,” I murmured against her skin.
I’d seen her every day this week at the office, but it wasn’t enough. I missed the intimacy we’d shared at Neptune’s Kingdom. Waking up beside her, falling asleep with her body tucked against mine, the quiet moments between the chaos where it was just the two of us.
I missed her.
Raina didn’t hesitate. She turned in my arms, that perfect sunshine smile spreading across her face, and that was all the answer I needed.
I kissed her.
What started soft and sweet quickly deepened into something hungrier. Her fingers slid into my hair, her body pressing against mine, and I walked her backward toward the living room without breaking the kiss. We bumped into furniture and laughed against each other’s mouths.
Her hands found the hem of my t-shirt and tugged upward. I broke the kiss long enough for her to pull it over my head, then her palms were on my chest, sliding over my abs, tracing the lines of muscle with obvious appreciation.