Spiral (Off the Ice Book 2)
Spiral: Chapter 32

THE HIT PLAYS over and over on a loop in my mind, each replay dredging up a fresh wave of regret. I should have known better than to get cocky.

My first goal of the evening had ignited a hunger for revenge in our opponents, and when Pittsburgh’s right-winger came charging at me, I had no choice but to brace for impact.

After that, I was flying past the defense again, but as I was chasing the high of a potential goal, the second hit truly knocked the wind out of my body.

“You’re not concussed, but the bruising on your body is concerning,” our team doctor says as he flashes a light in my eyes after a baseline test. “We’ll keep an eye on it. You’ll need to rest and take ibuprofen for pain.”

Only one question hangs in the air. “Am I clear to play Friday?”

It’s our second game of round two playoffs, and the thought of missing it fills me with despair. There was a split second after the hit that fear rampaged through me. Fear that my career was slipping from my fingers again.

“No, Eli, you can’t play with bruised ribs and a near concussion. You’re out for the round, and I’ll reevaluate you for round three,” says Dr. Harris before stepping out.

My shoulders slump, weighed down by disappointment. I exhale a long sigh that causes a sharp pain to radiate from my bruised ribs.

Outside the dressing room, I can hear the muffled voices of Coach Wilson and Dr. Harris in conversation. When the doors finally swing open, Coach is there, wearing a somber expression.

The beginnings of a headache pound on my skull like a relentless drum. I place a bag of ice on my head.

“It’s not the news we were hoping for, but your health comes first,” he says. “You played a good game tonight, Eli. Let’s make sure it stays that way so this isn’t the last time we see you in the playoffs.”

A reluctant acceptance blankets me at his words.

“We’ll arrange for a driver to take you back to the hotel. Rest up, and we’ll head home tomorrow morning.” Coach’s voice is tinged with sympathy.

I exit the room, burdened by the bitter aftertaste of failure that lingers. The ache of missing not only tonight’s game but the next one gnaws uncomfortably at my core.

When I arrive at the hotel, I don’t linger. I zip up my suitcase, summon an Uber, and make a beeline for the airport. Instead of texting Coach, I shoot Aiden a message to let him know I’m leaving. Coach would never sanction my decision to fly after taking a hit like that, but being home is all I can think about. Because Sage will be there, and she’s the only one that can make this situation slightly bearable.

My first thought after being slammed into the boards wasn’t whether I broke any bones or if my vision would return. I thought of Sage.

That night when I crushed my lips against hers and drank her in like water on dying grass, her response matched my intensity. Hearing the sound of her soft moan of pleasure slipping from her lips and down my throat etched itself deep into my mind.

Her enthusiasm is not good for my imagination. Sage is my undoing, and I’m not sure I’d know how to handle all of her. I knew I fucked up when my tongue swiped across hers, and the spark of electricity made it nearly impossible to stop. It was like I could hear the clink of metal armor falling off her body and to my feet, and something in my chest clicked into place. But the realization of what she wanted and what I shouldn’t give her hit me hard.

The flight from the Pittsburgh airport is short. I try to sleep, but with the uncomfortable seat I got at the last minute, dead center between two other people, and the ice on my head, I can’t relax. When I land, I pull up my hoodie and take an Uber back to my apartment.

Our doorman sees me approach, and when he tries to rush over to help, I stop him. My limp is bad, but I don’t want to call more attention to myself. Shooting him a smile, I hobble into the elevator and slump against the mirrored wall on my way up.

My body screams in agony, yet a part of me wants to move faster. My jingling keys fall from my hand to the floor. I reach down to get them with a series of grunts, and when I’m about to insert the key, the door flies open to reveal a misty-eyed Sage.

She stands there, eyes sweeping over me from head to toe. Her curly hair frames her face, and her fingers grip the doorframe tight enough that they whiten. The weight of her gaze practically emanates from her expression, enveloping me as if I can feel it physically.

Sage reaches for my arm and lets me shift my weight to step inside. I put just enough weight on her, but she’d be crushed if I leaned on her the way I need to right now. Once we enter my room, she retreats a step, leaving me to stand alone. She looks either terrified or nervous, but she doesn’t say anything to tell me which one it is.

“I’m okay,” I reassure her, hoping that’s what she’s looking for.

The smallest breath of relief pitches her tense shoulders down. “I saw the hit, Elias. Both of them.” She doesn’t meet my eyes. “It was terrifying to see you like that.”

Her words catch me off guard, and a warmth spreads over the pain in my ribs.

“You were worried about me?” I can’t suppress the smile that tugs at my lips.

“Comes with the job description.” Her deflection is lined with bitter humor. She fidgets with her hands and doesn’t look at me. I don’t like it.

“Is it a self-care night?” I ask.

“It’s Wednesday, I don’t usually …” Her voice trails off, her gaze shifting over my bruised and battered body with a blend of pity and concern. “Yeah, it’s a self-care night.”

She helps me to the bathroom, using all her strength to aid my limping form. Then she twists on the faucet to fill the bath with water and sifts through the cupboards.

“You’ll need to soak in a hot bath first. I have Epsom salts,” she informs me, pouring the lavender-scented salt into the steaming water.

“Take it with me.”

She freezes.

“I saw your performance. Probably one of your best, so I’m sure you need one too.”

She stares at me wide-eyed. “You watched it?”

“Wouldn’t have missed it,” I say, “but next time, send me the link so I don’t have to ask your uncle.” I take a step closer until we’re mere inches apart. Her breath hitches when the backs of her thighs meet the edge of the bathtub, and I resist the urge to wince as I lean in. “Will you join me?”

The long column of her throat moves before she looks at the water and then back at me. “But you’re … you know.”

“It’s not a bad word, Sage.”

She sighs. “I know. But I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

I run my thumb along her jawline and meet her eyes. “I’m in pain, Sage. Make it better.”

She barely nods, her body betraying her reluctance as she steps closer, drawn in by an invisible force.

As I shed my clothes and sink into the hot water, every ache in my body seems to melt under the heat. Meanwhile, Sage lingers by the tub, her demeanor cautious as she stares at my reddened skin. It’s ironic—the girl who straddled my lap with abandon is uncertain about something as simple as sharing a bath.

“Need me to close my eyes?” I tease. But I spot a flicker of unease in her gaze that makes me stop. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s just I know my body looks different and my muscles are more defined,” she starts. “But I love my body, and I told myself a long time ago that I will never let anyone dictate how I feel about it.” She breathes heavily, and I can’t understand why she has to say this. “I’ve worked really hard, and I’ve fought through a lot of self-image issues. You don’t become a ballerina without every instructor from the age of eight telling you that you can stand to lose a few pounds. Or that beauty is pain, and starving yourself is a part of that pain.”

Her words hit me like a semitruck. “You think I’m like them? Those sick people who prey on people’s self-esteem because they have no clue that healthy bodies look different?”

Sage blinks rapidly. I want to reach out and comfort her, but I know that my words are what she needs.

“Jesus, Sage. From the moment I saw you, I couldn’t look away. And it had nothing to do with your body or face. It was just you. Your energy, your determination, your strength. That’s all that I could see. It was blinding.”

“You can’t mean that.”

“Come in here, and I’ll show you how much I mean it.”

A surge of victory ensues when she strips off the long T-shirt—one of mine—and then her panties before dipping her foot into the steaming bath. I bite my fist to keep from groaning out loud at the sight of her. She tries to maintain distance as she sits between my legs.

Alarms go off in my head. Too close. Too much. Too good.

To distract myself, I run a loofah over her back. When I feel her under my palm, and smell her sweet scent, I can’t help it. Making sure she’s taken care of doesn’t have to mean I’m compromising my rules. I want to show her that she’s not too much. That she deserves to be taken care of.

With a hand on the bare skin of her waist, I pull her against me, and leave light kisses where her neck meets her shoulders.

“You did so good tonight,” I whisper.

She shivers, turning her head in the other direction.

I tidy her twisted bun, knowing she won’t want to get her hair wet. There’s no stopping the way I feel right now, because even with the worst pain I’ve ever felt in my body, I recognize how good she feels this close to me.

“We c-can’t,” she stutters.

“Can’t what, Sage?” I whisper against the shell of her ear. “I can’t touch you like this?”

I trace a slow finger down her spine. My rules were muddied the moment I felt her lips on mine. But I never wanted Sage to feel like she had to perform some impossible role just because I was breaking a rule for her. I want her to know that if I touch her, it’s because I want to. Because right now, she needs it and I want to give it to her.

She whimpers. “What are you doing, Elias? You’re celibate.”

“I’m celibate,” I whisper. “But you still deserve to feel good. I can do that. Let me make you feel good, baby.”

She grips the side of the tub so tightly her knuckles turn white, but she doesn’t move.

I’m sure she feels my heart hammering against her back too. “Let me take care of you.”

Her breath hitches as if those words have never been spoken to her. “I don’t need to be taken care of.”

Minutes pass without another word, and her declaration lingers in the air. It’s as if it’s a practiced sentence. Like she actually believes that shit.

“You know, the ones who say that usually need it the most.” I’m careful when I brush a strand of hair behind her ear, delicate and gentle, just like she needs. “If you think that’s the truth, I’m going to show you it’s not.”

After a long silence, she whispers, “I don’t expect you to prove anything to me.”

“I don’t need you to,” I say.

No one has ever taken care of Sage Beaumont, and I have the inclination to be the first.

My fingers find her smooth thigh under the water, and slip to her core to feel her arousal. She’s squirms under my touch, desperate for a release. Shaking with nerves and anticipation. “Tell me what you like, Sage.”

“You,” she says on a gasp.

Fuck. I insert two fingers, unable to wait any longer. She moans so loud, I have to clench my jaw to keep from doing the same. This is about her. “Ride them.”

She moves faster, then her uncertain gaze finds mine. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“The only thing that would hurt me is not seeing you come. Take what you need, Sage.”

She doesn’t hesitate this time. Sage rides my fingers, her moans echoing as she reaches her climax, her head resting in the crook of my neck. She curses, and squeezes her eyes shut when she comes on my hand. Beautiful.

My body aches from the effort of restraint. “Turn around,” I grunt against her temple.

She turns, straddling me, mindful of the bruises starting to purple my skin.

I brush my palm against her cheek, and she leans into the touch. “No more jokes?” I ask.

She smiles weakly, her hazel eyes hot with desire. “Now you know how to shut me up.”

“I never want to shut you up. You’re the only person I ever want to talk to.”

With a hand at the nape of her neck, I draw her lips to mine, kissing her until I moan with pleasure. I could never get tired of feeling her yield to me, relinquishing control and allowing me to hold her completely.

“Can I touch you?” she asks. “You should get to feel good too. I’ll do whatever you want me to.”

Jesus. Her words are like a honey trap. The sincerity on her face only makes my shaking head want to nod. If I feel her fist wrapped around me, I’ll never recover. Never be able to placate the part of me that doesn’t want to let her go. And that’s the last thing she needs.

I know I’m testing the bounds of my self-control, but I can handle it. I can handle this. To make her happy even if I’m fucking miserable.

“Making you feel good makes me feel good.”

She doesn’t seem convinced. “I want you to come with me.”

Having this woman tell me what she wants might be my favorite thing.

“How’s this?” I bring her attention to where I wrap my hand around my erection. She watches my rhythmic movements through the soapy water, and her throat bobs.

“Is that—do you have piercings?” She barely contains her shock. The shiny metal piercing gleams under the soapy water. Her hands rest on my thighs, and the touch makes me shudder. I got the piercings in college, so no girl has ever seen them. Now, with Sage toying with my self-control, I hold back from asking her to touch them with her tongue.

“Long story.” Sage doesn’t need to know the reckless shit the guys and I did at Dalton.

She regards me with a smirk. “It’s cute. Unexpected, but cute.”

I groan loudly. “Don’t call me cute when you’re staring at my cock.”

She laughs at my plight. So I pull her to my lips and kiss her. Tasting every inch of her mouth, and desperately wanting more. It would be so easy like this. To have her how I’ve imagined.

“Stand up,” I command softly against her lips.

When she pulls back, her eyes are wide. She doesn’t question me, allowing me to guide her to my mouth as she stands. I hold her right where I need her, feeling her shaking before my lips seal around her clit. Her hands find my hair, clutching it so tightly it stings my scalp. With my fingers and tongue working in tandem, Sage doesn’t last long, panting my name along with a cascade of pleas until she shatters in ecstasy.

She slips down my body, and I catch her in my arms before she falls on my aching thighs.

Sage rests her head on my chest. “That had to have broken some rule. Does celibacy come with a manual?”

I bark out a laugh. “I’ll let you know.” We take turns soaping each other up and then rinsing off. When we’re dry, I limp into bed.

She helps me under the covers and brings me an ice pack from the kitchen. “Call me if you need anything.”

I catch her wrist. “I need something.”

“What?”

“You.”

She rolls her eyes. “Elias, you’re injured. And we already … I don’t want to make it worse.”

“Then sleep here and make it better. Sleep with me.”

She wears a wry smile. “You’re just setting yourself up at this point.”

“You know what I mean. Come here.”

And she does. There’s a stabbing in my abdomen when she lays her head on my chest, but nothing is worse than the dull ache in my chest when she’s not there.

Sage is unusually silent as we try to sleep. I’m used to her random questions and fidgeting to find a comfortable position. “You’re awfully quiet. Did I break you?”

Her amused breath falls on my chest. “Yeah, your magical tongue and fingers deserve a reward.”

“Your pussy was the reward.”

Her eyes bulge. “Who the hell are you, and what have you done with Elias?”

“I think we know what happened to him.”

Then Sage is quiet again, running her hands over my abdomen and up my chest. There’s a nagging feeling that makes me restless. I tap a finger on her temple. “What’s on your mind?”

“My landlord called.”

My pulse quickens, and words fail me. I’m relieved that she doesn’t look up, for fear she might see the dread etched on my face. Having her here has felt like this is how it’s meant to be, and the possibility of her leaving never even crossed my mind. There’s a rough ball in my throat that doesn’t allow me to speak.

“She said the insurance finally got back to her, and she’s called the cleaners. The apartment should be ready for me by Monday.”

“Monday,” I repeat numbly.

She brushes her palm over a bruise, focusing her attention on that. “I have an early class, so I’ll leave my key on the kitchen counter.”

“Don’t go.”

I shift to get a better look at her face, but the movement sends a searing pain through my ribs. Sage studies my expression, as if she’s uncertain she heard me correctly.

“Your studio is nearby, and all your auditions are downtown. Besides, if you have to come to my games or attend an event with me, it’s better if you’re here. It doesn’t make sense for you to move back.”

“I can’t stay here forever, Elias.”

But I want you to. “I’ll help you find an apartment when it’s time.”

“You will?”

“I’d do anything for you, Sage.” And if I let her leave now, I won’t survive it. Not after having her ignite something within me that makes me want to let go and only hold on to her.