Spiral (Off the Ice Book 2)
Spiral: Chapter 30

SCREAMING ON THE bus is a very appropriate reaction to finding out I’ve secured an invite to audition for the principal role in Swan Lake. But the old man sitting next to me did not agree.

It’s been a week since I’ve thought about anything other than Elias’s tortured expression when I sat on his lap. But today, only the NBT invite occupies my brain.

As soon as my following pivoted from hockey fans leaving inappropriate comments to supportive ballerinas and ballet moms, recognition from other popular dancers started pouring in.

This audition guarantees that I’ll be judged by Zimmerman, and that bitter part of me is desperate to stick the landing. I want to prove to him that this nobody has come a long way from that day he laughed at me outside my first audition.

I haven’t told anyone, not my brother and not Elias, because there’s a part of me that doesn’t want anyone else tied up in my hopes. Rejections are tough, but I’ve been through so many, I’m sure I can weather that storm again. But if either of them sees me lose the one thing I’ve strived for since I turned eight, it’ll only embarrass me.

The kicker though? My feelings for my fake boyfriend don’t feel fake at all. I’m on the verge of making my lifelong dream a reality, and my mind wants to focus on the way he flexed his muscular thigh between my legs.

Not only that, the dress I’m supposed to wear tonight, gifted by him, is so beautiful I can’t believe it’s mine.

When I get to the empty apartment, I head to Elias’s room to stare at the ruby red fabric hanging in the closet. Despite my refusal, he was right about me having to buy a dress. I couldn’t reuse the black one I’ve been wearing everywhere. But that’s not the part of the conversation that’s been a pin in my side.

Elias only mentioned my desperate act of rubbing myself over his thigh because he wants to forget it. Like it was a lapse in judgment, a stupid mistake by a horny girl lost in the haze of her lust. Well, maybe that description is a little accurate, but I was not lost or being stupid. I was as aware as ever that the hard plane of his thigh was perfect against my throbbing core, and, if I recall correctly, that hazy lust caused him to flex his too. We’re both equally guilty. But why do I feel like the one that’s been sentenced to prison?

I’m dressed and waiting for Elias to pick me up, since he’s getting changed at the arena after practice. He’s been stressed these past few games, so I’ve been laying low. They swept round one, so the team has been training hard to keep their streak. However, Elias said Coach Wilson isn’t pleased with everyone’s performance and thinks the team-building get-together is necessary since they only managed to score in overtime or with power plays.

I’m peeling the liner off one of Elias’s homemade carrot muffins, waiting for his text when the front door opens. Footsteps echo against the floorboards before I see him. Dark hair is tousled just enough that a single strand curls against his forehead, even as he sifts his hand through it. The black suit hugs his frame, accentuating his athletic build and confident posture. His black shoes reflect the kitchen lights, each stride leading him toward me as my mouth falls agape. I almost choke on the muffin when I see him close up.

If I died right now, I wouldn’t even be mad if this was my last sight.

“You look beautiful,” he says, snapping me out of my trance.

“Definitely the dress,” I say, shyly sliding off the stool.

“Definitely you.”

THE GET-TOGETHER IS intimate, and nothing like the party we attended a few weeks ago. Only the starting lineup and some of the players from the second line are here. This time, we’re at Coach Wilson’s house. The French-style home is located in the suburbs not too far from Sean’s school. Inside, we pass the grand foyer and a set of sweeping staircases to the dining room, where a crystal chandelier decorates the space. The house is massive, and I have to remind myself to keep my jaw from hanging.

The dinner is filled with questions and introductions, most of which make me feel like an imposter. Elias notices when I retreat into myself because he puts his hand over mine under the table. A touch just for me. It slows my thoughts until Coach’s wife leads us outside to gather around the table that sits on a stone-paved patio.

The other guys on the team mingle as they sit with their girlfriends and wives, some of them having brought their children, who play together in the courtyard, while others have gone home with sleeping babies in their arms.

This whole thing was to boost team morale, and I think Coach Wilson’s idea is working. I kind of wish Summer was here, because she would make being surrounded by all of this a little easier. But she’s at Dalton, and Aiden is practicing on her parent’s indoor ice rink with her dad between games.

So tonight, it’s just Elias and me.

Socket helps start a fire, and everyone takes a seat around it when the cool breeze dips the temperature. But Elias doesn’t let go of my hand. Instead, he pulls me right in his lap when he sits down. I try to appear comfortable, but ever since the last time I sat on his thigh, there’s no telling what I’ll do. But knowing my uncle is across from us has me on my best behavior.

Elias pulls my legs across his lap, and I try my hardest not to sink into his touch.

“How did you two meet? I know Marcus sure as hell didn’t introduce you,” Coach Wilson asks.

I cut a glance to my uncle, who is staring into his glass of water.

“We met at the auction.” Elias places his hand over mine on the table. He’s been extra touchy today, and I can’t make sense of it.

“I go to the bathroom for two seconds, and he’s made a move on my niece. Classy.” My uncle’s rough voice makes Elias stiffen.

A few of the players surrounding the table turn to look at us.

“Actually, I was the one who bid on him,” I interject.

Coach Wilson laughs. My uncle grimaces. I’m sick of him treating Elias like he’s not good enough for me. If anything, I’m the one who isn’t good enough for him.

“But I still had to convince her to come on a second date,” Elias adds.

Hearing the topic of conversation, Owen turns too. “I had to ask her out for an entire year before she agreed,” he chimes in.

The easy atmosphere plummets to hell.

“And we were on and off for years,” he says from his place a few seats down, slurring his words. “But loneliness seemed to always bring us back to each other.”

I’m willing the skies to open up and strike me down.

Owen continues, “But I’d do it all over again if she would—”

“I’d be careful with how you finish that sentence.” Elias’s threat is low and rough. His deep voice makes this entire interaction even more unbearable.

Owen laughs. “Relax, Eli, you know I’d never overstep.”

I look up at Elias, staring ahead, watching Owen with a dangerous glint in his eyes. Uh‑oh.

We’ve been over this, and Elias knows there is nothing between Owen and me. But I don’t expect him to become best buds with my ex. Suddenly, I can’t stand being here.

“It’s getting late. Will you take me home?” I ask.

This time emotion flickers in Elias’s brown eyes, but he blinks it away. “You want to leave?”

I nod. We say a quick bye to everyone, and we’re off. In the car he doesn’t touch me. No hand on my thigh, and no conversation. The music is loud yet deafeningly silent. The walk to the apartment is even quieter.

I’m itching to talk but seal my lips together to not be the first to speak. Inside, he shuts the front door behind us and there’s a hot tingle that races up my spine. The click of my heels against the hardwood matches the thudding of my heart as I head to his room.

“Was he telling the truth?” Elias’s deep voice startles me. “You went back to him whenever you felt lonely?” He says the words calmly, but there’s a frustrated lilt to his question. One that seemed to have been simmering the whole ride here.

“He was drunk,” I deflect. I remove my heels and head straight to his room and into the bathroom.

The closed door doesn’t stop him from walking right into the bathroom with me. On any normal night, this bathroom is big enough for a small party, but today it feels cramped and sweltering. I drop my earrings on the counter and reluctantly meet his eyes in the reflection of the mirror.

“It was a long time ago. I didn’t have friends,” I say. “Feeling lonely was inevitable.”

Elias steps closer. “Do you feel lonely now?” His warm breath falls on my neck, and a quiet shiver rustles through me.

“I don’t know,” I whisper, clutching the edge of the countertop.

“That’s not an answer, Sage.”

I huff. “Why does it matter? Are you still jealous of him or something?”

“Does it look like I’m fucking jealous?” he says. “I don’t care about him. I care about you.”

There’s a hunger in his gaze that could devour me in minutes, and I know with everything in me that I should walk away. Not because I don’t want this to happen. I want it badly, even desperately. But I know if we go on, any boundaries I’m still holding on to will be crushed. Any that he doesn’t already control.

When he dips his head to the crook of my neck, my breath catches. Elias runs his nose along the side of my neck, where my pulse goes wild. My fingers might break through the marble countertop, but then his hands come to bracket mine. Caging me in.

His lips brush against my ear this time. “I’d never let you feel lonely.”

Oh God. His words. The heat thrumming off his body. My rattling heart. It all blends to send me into a mindless stupor. Like a butter knife to my softened heart. All my jokes have abandoned me, because the moment the possibility of Elias feels real, I can’t joke.

He drops a whisper of a kiss on my shoulder, and I can’t help but turn to look at him. Brown eyes flicker to my throat when I swallow.

Being near him is like an itch I can’t scratch, or a sneeze that never comes. We’ve been this close before, but I’ve never seen his gaze like this. Hungry. Longing. Molten.

I’m playing with fire, but I’m not someone who’s afraid to get burned. And damn do I want Elias Westbrook to burn me.

I push my hips into his and he groans. A deep, guttural groan. “Then show me,” I say.

That’s all it takes, because in the next moment, Elias seals his lips to mine.

The kiss isn’t soft and sweet, it’s demanding and rough, like the frustration that lined his words seconds ago. Like he’s proving something to me. Or to himself.

Warm lips find their way down my neck and to the column of my throat, where my pulse quickens. He nips the skin lightly, leaving a sting before his tongue soothes over it. I slide my hands down the front of his dress shirt. I feel too hot to be in this suffocating dress. My chest heaves, and he brings his lips down until he’s kissing the swell of my breasts. The move nukes any thought of self-control, and I push my body into his to feel his hard length pressing into my navel, just inches away from where I want him.

He hesitates but I’m impatient. I pull away to face the mirror again. “Unzip me. Please,” I plead.

Elias’s gaze appears conflicted as it crackles with lust and he presses his hips to my ass. “Tell me to stop,” he rasps.

“I don’t want to.”

He groans louder this time. “Don’t say that.” He nips my neck, and I arch into him. “Jesus. You’re killing me, Sage.”

“Then do something about it.”

It’s brave. Maybe too brave, because Elias freezes. We stay like this for so long I have no idea what he’s thinking. But then he sighs, and removes his hands from the counter.

I quickly step away, and a flicker of insecurity flashes across his features. “I’m sorry. You’re celibate, I shouldn’t have said that.”

He shakes his head. “It’s not your fault if I wanted to.”

My face blanches.

Elias closes the space between us to cup my face, steadying my spinning thoughts. “It’s hard for me to go there after everything, and I don’t want to put that on you,” he says.

“I don’t mind,” I say way too quickly.

There’s a smile on his lips like he finds my eagerness amusing. “You’re perfect. And if there’s anybody I’d break my vow for, it’s you.”

“I would never ask you to do that.” I drop my head and notice my dress is indecently bunched around my waist and my nipples are hard. My body is doing all the asking apparently.

He exhales a heavy breath and averts his darkened gaze. “I know, and that’s sweet. But the more you talk, the more I want to bend you over this sink and taste exactly how wet you are.”

I open my mouth to suggest he do exactly that, but snap it shut. He’s celibate, Sage.

I run a hand through my hair, and my dress rides up in the process. I shove it back down, sheepishly watching him from beneath my lashes. “I want you, Elias. But I don’t know what you want me to do,” I say. “I can’t—”

“Say that again.”

I’m thrown off by the sudden demand as Elias takes a tentative step closer. Like the thread he’s desperately hanging on to just needs one good tug and it would snap.

“What?”

“Say it again, Sage,” he says with a trace of impatience.

I swallow. “I want you, Elias.”

His throat rumbles with an appreciative sound. Elias grips my waist and pushes me back into the edge of the counter until it digs into my spine. I don’t register the sting of pain because he drags his tongue up the side of my neck to my ear.

“Again,” he rasps.

I inhale a tattered breath when he picks me up and deposits me on the countertop. The cold marble touches the sizzling skin of my thighs, making me dig my nails into his shoulders and whisper, “I want you.”

An audible snap can be heard in the stuffy bathroom.

I’ve never seen Elias drunk, but I assume this version of him is how it would be. The version that drinks me in like smooth liquor. But just as I think he’s going to rip off my dress and take me on this counter, Elias’s kiss lingers on my forehead for so long it’s almost as if he’s counting. Or admonishing himself.

He’s shaking his head when I look up at him. “What’s wrong?”

His breathing evens out. He tucks my hair behind my ear and helps me off the counter.

“You should get some sleep, Sage. I’m going to shower.” Elias doesn’t meet my eyes when he slips out of the perfectly good bathroom and heads to the one in the hall. A harsh truth spits in my face as I watch his retreat.

Elias Westbrook is the most gentle man I’ve ever known, but if he wanted to, he could tear my heart to pieces.