Find Me on the Ice: Hockey Romance (Nighthawks Book 2)

It is way too pleasing to watch her squirm with my closeness. What would she do if I pulled her forward and forced her to bend at her waist to get closer to me? Run and hide? Kiss me?

It’s ironic really that I can barely read her in a room full of light, but in the dark, I knew every little thing that she wanted, every thought she had. But now? I really don’t know.

Maybe I pushed her too far. Maybe I should just stop and let her breathe.

Nah.

Her heart is pounding—I can feel it in her wrist. I bet she is nervous as hell right now. Maybe she thinks she can still convince me it’s not her.

But I know it is from the tattoo she has to the way her body swayed side to side as she tried to hurry as she helped us. It might not have been the same dancing I saw her do at Fireflies. But in the time we spent together, I memorized how her body moved beneath the lights. Her having an apron on and a T-shirt didn’t change that. The movements sparked that memory in my brain.

I wish everyone else would walk away and give us the room we clearly crave right now. My focus is on Little Dove, ignoring the onlookers.

She is so stunning. What I thought was just a lighter blue in her eyes is so much more. The outer rim is darker, cerulean almost. The color dissipates to the palest of blues closer to her pupil.

Her bright blue eyes and that pretty pink hair remind me of cotton candy, and my weakness has always been my sweet tooth.

“I’m sorry. You must have me confused with someone else. I’ve got to go. Please let Chloe know if you need anything else.” Her words are choppy, no rhyme or rhythm to the flow, and her breathing is unsteady.

If I didn’t know any better, I would say that she wasn’t comfortable. But the look in her eyes right now says everything her mouth doesn’t.

I’m about to open my mouth to say that I’m sorry if I made her uncomfortable, and that if she doesn’t want to see me again, then I’ll respect that. But the second my lips part, she pulls her arm out of my grasp and speed-walks to the counter. But she doesn’t stop there. She goes through a door and out of sight.

Fuck. I blew it.

When I finally glance toward Kos and Laura, they look like sad parents who just watched their son get his heart broken.

Laura sighs and says, “You should go after her, you know.”

Leaning my head back against the booth, I stare at the ceiling and say, “Well, you saw how well that just went. I don’t think pushing it would really be the best way to go.”

Someone clears their throat, and I turn and see Chloe standing at our table, looking at me with regret in her eyes.

“Look, Nikki is going to kill me for this. But she is just scared. She will be the person to push you away before you even have a chance to do that to her. She had an amazing time at Fireflies with you. I-if you want, I can take you back there to see her.”

“Yes,” I say without hesitation.

I don’t know what exactly it is about her. But she is a puzzle I desperately want to solve.

Chloe is beaming, proud at the risk she took. “Well then, right this way.” She steps aside to let me join her.

Sliding out of the booth, I have … nerves? Although, I do love a good playful chase, it isn’t my usual routine to have to quite literally chase the girl. But routine gets boring, and she is anything but.

So, here I am, following Chloe behind the counter and through a door that leads to a hallway. The walls are white, and everything is so incredibly clean and tidy. I sneak a peek into the open rooms that look like they’re used for storage as we pass them by. We stop at the last door that is closed.

Chloe knocks on it and announces herself, “Hey, it’s me. Can I come in?”

The sign on the door is a white plaque that says Boss Bitch. I can’t help but smile at that. But I would rather it have her name there, as I still do not know it.

What is up with this girl? She oozes mystery, and I want to fucking solve it.

I hear feet shuffling toward the door, and I take a step out of view from the doorway and wait. I think if she sees me right away, she might just slam the door shut.

The doorknob twists, the door opens, and Little Dove says to Chloe, “Chlo, I just need a minute, okay? I’ll be out in a few.”

Chloe’s wide eyes dart in my direction, and I take a hesitant step into view with my hand rubbing the back of my neck.

“Hi, Little Dove.”

She holds her breath and just stares at me with wide eyes. “What are you doing back here?”

Chloe slowly backs away as I inch into the doorway Little Dove.

“I-I wanted to apologize for making you uncomfortable. It wasn’t my intention, truly.”

She exhales and bites her lip, not in a sexual way, but as if she is teetering on the edge of stepping aside and letting me in or never speaking to me again.

The bell of the front door chimes, and Chloe looks torn between staying where she is or going to greet the customers. Thank God she chooses the latter.

“I’d better go.”

“Chlo—” Little Dove tries to stop her, but Chloe glares at her and turns, hustling away.

Tired of waiting, I invite myself in. “May I?”

Her mouth tries to form words, but she just closes it, nods her head, and steps aside.

The room is perfectly put together and, of course, impeccably tidy. A large L-shaped oak desk faces the door. A dusty blue love seat and white accent chair sit on the other side of the room with a coffee table. And that is exactly where I go.

This love seat has got to be the most comfortable piece of furniture I’ve ever sat on.

She sits on the white chair, still speechless. She licks her lips and finally graces me with her smooth, sultry voice. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable, you know.”

I hold her eye contact. I would say it’s intentional, but I can’t take my eyes off of hers. They are so incredibly beautiful, as is the rest of her.

“Then, why did you run away?” I ask matter-of-factly.

She squints her eyes. “I did not run.”

I smirk. “You tore your arm from my hand, spun on your heel, and practically ran. Please tell me how that was not running away, Little Dove.” I lower my voice on her pet name.

She sucks her cheek in between her teeth, clearly holding some words back. I quietly chuckle.

“Fine, smart-ass. Maybe I ran. So what?” She crosses her arms across her chest.

I swear to God, it takes physical restraint not to look down to where her breasts are being pressed so tightly together, almost spilling out of the top of her shirt.

Mischief dances in her eyes, and she knows exactly what she is doing. So, let’s see where this goes.

“If you wanted to get me in a private room, you only needed to ask,” I say, slightly lifting my hips up and widening my legs.

“I have no doubt that is true. I’m sure any woman on earth could invite you into a private room, and you would run like a lapdog,” she snarks with fire in her eyes.

I shrug. “Not every woman. But I do have a weakness for a certain pink-haired girl that caught my interest a few nights ago. Her? Yes, I would follow her into a private room.” I sit up, holding her gaze. “Every time.”

She gulps and rolls her eyes.

Fuck, I wonder if she likes to be spanked.

“Well, even if that were me, maybe I don’t want anything to do with a certain blue-eyed boy that I hypothetically met at a club a few nights ago, or I would have texted him.”

“Hmm, I doubt that.” I chuckle, trying to push as many buttons as I can. I like to watch her get flustered and all riled up.

“You don’t know me, and you can’t know that,” she quips.

I lean forward. “I know you liked pressing your ass as tight as it could get against my cock with only that thin dress and my jeans separating us. I know you liked when I stuck my thumb in your mouth. And I fucking loved how it felt when your tongue flicked it over and over.” I lick my lips and stop myself from going over to her. “You’re right. I don’t know for sure that you want anything to do with me. But I know, that night, you did. And, God, what I would have given to have you come home with me. The things I would have done to you—with your consent, of course, Little Dove.”

Her thighs are squeezed together so tightly, and her chest is rising so fast that I think she might be the one to make a move.

But as much as I want to take her across that oak desk right now, I’m occasionally a man of patience. This being one of those times. When I take Little Dove, I want to be in such a state of desire that she is all I can think about, all I crave. And that simply takes time.

“I want to take you out for dinner. Tonight,” I tell her, waiting with bated breath for her answer.

She chuckles and puts her forehead against the palm of her hand. “I don’t know. I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Rising off of the love seat, I walk over to her, gently caress the back of her hand that’s resting on her forehead, and pull it away.

She hesitantly looks up to me. I can’t stop myself from reaching out and touching the smooth skin of her cheek. I cup it, sliding my fingers under her ear and stroking her flushed cheek with my thumb.

“Please,” I whisper to her.

I almost have to slap myself for begging her. I have never begged a woman for her time.

She stares at me for what feels like forever, as if a war is waging in her mind. Then, ever so slightly, she nods her head, and a small smile forms on her full lips. “Yes.”

“Can I pick you up at your place?” I ask her, still stroking her cheek.

Her eyes quickly widen. “No, but I will meet you there. Speaking of which, where will we go?”

Well, I won’t ask for more details on that scared reaction to my question right now, but I definitely will later.

I have only been here a handful of times with Laura and Alec. But I do remember loving the cheese-stuffed ravioli at Elevation. I also remember the crazy-high prices, but I don’t really give a shit about that. I want to hear her moan while she eats the most delicious pasta she’s ever had.

“How about Elevation?”

Sliding my hand away from her cheek, I drop it to my side. I can’t help but notice the tiniest frown form on her lips.

“That is way too expensive. Also, you need a reservation, like, months in advance. How about Culver’s?”

“No.” I laugh. “How about Elevation? I can get us a table; don’t worry.”

A perk of being a Nighthawk is that tables magically seem to appear when you want to eat at a sold-out restaurant. Also, I remember them having great security, no paparazzi allowed inside. I don’t want to scare her off right away.

“And if I say no, will that change your opinion on where to go?” she asks.

“No, not at all. They have the best pasta, and I want to watch you drool over it.”

She sucks in a breath. “What time?”

“Eight.”

“I’ll be there.” She smirks. “Probably.”

That mouth is going to get her into trouble. In one swift movement, I cage her in the chair, placing a hand on either side of her head. I push her legs together with mine. “Don’t stand me up, Little Dove.”

The reaction I expect from her never comes.

She shoves me hard in the chest, all while remaining seated, and I stumble back. And when I meet her eyes again, they are full of fear. All warmth drains from me.

“I-I’m sorry.”

I reach out for her hand. But she pulls away, looking embarrassed.

“Don’t be. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have shoved you. If you don’t want to go to dinner now, I’ll completely understand.” She drops her gaze to my chest, and her demeanor has completely shifted.

Once again, I’m wondering who in the hell hurt her.

Placing my fingers under her chin, I lift her head, and she meets my eyes.

“Please don’t apologize. I won’t do anything again before telling you, I promise. I would love to get dinner with you. On one condition,” I tease slightly.

“What?” she quietly asks.

I chuckle, not realizing we have gone this long without exchanging this information. “Tell me your name.”

She smiles, but her eyes are still pained. “I’m Nikki.”

I stick my hand out between us. “Cam.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Cameron.” She smiles, and this time, it reaches her eyes.

“Just Cam,” I say lightheartedly.

She nods. “I suppose you’d better get back before they start to worry.”

“Yeah, we should probably go,” I say.

I offer her my hand. She takes it and stands up, then releases it. Baby steps—that’s okay.

We walk in silence out of the back room.

When she is about to turn and walk over to Chloe, I say, “Ask for me when you arrive. I’ll have the reservation in my name.”

Alec, Laura, and Jack are all leaning against the counter. I acknowledge them once before turning back to Nikki.

She smiles and says, “Eight o’clock—got it. See you tonight, Cameron,” she says mockingly.

I shake my head, smiling. Even if it’s not my actual name, it sounds damn good, coming from her mouth.

“Thank you,” I tell the waiter as he sets two waters down on the table.

My palms are sweating. They are fucking sweating. When have I ever been this nervous for a first date?

I check my phone for the millionth time. Seven fifty-five p.m. I made sure to be here twenty minutes early because I wanted to be here first. And I wasn’t sure how early she usually got to things, so here I am, sitting here for almost twenty minutes, trying not to pathetically look up every time a waiter brings someone to a table.

This restaurant has the best atmosphere. The lights are dimmed. Red, black, and gold decorate every table and room.

Another waiter walks into the room from the front, and I track him, waiting for him to move out of the way so I can see if it’s her. But when he steps aside, it’s not Nikki. It’s two women, clearly on a date by the way they are looking at each other. If they are not on a date, they should be.

I tap the screen of my phone—7:58 p.m.

The waiter seats the two women and heads back up front, getting ready to torture me with someone else.

I glance at the dozen red roses that I got her, which are sitting on our table.

I grab my water and take a sip. This is really good water. I feel like that’s an odd thing to think because water generally tastes the same, but somehow, this is … better?

Thankfully, my brain seems to distract itself because when I check my phone again, it’s eight p.m. on the dot. And Nikki still isn’t here.

Setting my glass down, I try not to think that she really won’t show.

My waiter approaches again. “Sir, can I get you anything while you wait for your company?”

I shake my head. “No, thank you though.”

“Are you sure? A few appetizers or some of our best local wine?” he counters.

But he isn’t getting another second of my attention. Because Nikki has just entered the room, and suddenly, I’m standing up, holding the roses, and watching her look around the room to find me. And that is a beautiful sight, watching her stunning eyes scan the room for me.

Her curves are encased in a black wrap dress, tiny straps holding it up. Her pink hair is in loose waves behind her shoulders and tucked behind her ears. She is in strappy black heels, but I know that I will still tower over her.

She hasn’t spotted me yet. But when she finally does and those stunning blue eyes lock with mine, I genuinely forget to breathe. She is the most breathtaking woman I have ever seen.

It’s just something I can’t place. Something about her that calls to me. She’s barely told me anything about herself, but I feel like I know who she is.

The host and Nikki approach the table, and I step out to greet her. The guy who walked her over stares at her a little too long before walking away. For two seconds, I look away from her to glare at him. He meets my eyes, and I tighten my jaw and stand a little taller.

He immediately looks away and goes back to his job.

When I look back at Nikki, who is now two feet from me, her lips are pursed.

“Did you just mean-mug the host?” She giggles. “Be nice.”

I smirk and chuckle, but more at the fact that I’ve been calling him a waiter in my mind this whole time when in fact he is not a waiter; he is a host.

I step toward her and pull her into my arms. With my hand gently resting on the back of her hair, I press my lips and nose on the top of her head.

I breathe her in. “You look fucking beautiful, Little Dove.” I press a kiss into her hair before pulling away. “These are for you.” I hand her the roses and walk around her and to her chair before I can see her reaction.

I pull her chair out for her and gesture for her to sit. She sits, and I help scoot her into the table before walking around and taking my seat.

This is so weird for me. I’ve been on countless dates, but they usually have one goal—to go fuck back at my place. Then, they leave, and I try to sleep. Simple, easy. This is so not that.

This feels real. I don’t want to fuck her tonight. Hold on. That’s not exactly what I mean. I desperately want to tear that fabric off of her, pick her up, and bounce her on my dick. I don’t give a fuck if the whole restaurant watches her cry out my name.

But I don’t want to rush this. I want to know her, the bad and the good. I don’t want the same pointless conversations that I’ve had before. I want to know the real her.

She clears her throat and takes a quick sip of her water. “Um, to be honest, Cameron, I haven’t been on a date in years. I’m so far out of my element. So, I have no idea how this works anymore.” She laughs.

I chuckle at her, but I’m astonished at the statement she made. Years? She could get any guy she wanted.

On the note of honesty, I will give her some of my own. “I have been on lots of dates, Nikki, but I haven’t been as nervous before as I am on this one. And in full transparency, the dates I’m on usually have one intention. So, this”—I motion between us—“is new territory for me.”

“Well, that makes me feel a little better, I suppose.” She smiles.

Our waiter approaches and takes our orders, refilling our waters afterward.

“I have an idea. Tell me if you think it’s stupid,” I say.

She nods.

“We play a game. Say something about yourself, either a truth or a lie, and then I’ll guess what it is. We’ll take turns.”

She thinks on it for a second. “Okay, let’s do it. Gentleman goes first.” She gestures to me.

I wish I had at least thought of one before I asked her to play the game. “One time, my teammates dumped a bucket of ice water on me while I was in the shower.”

She squints at me at my easy statement. But this could totally be a lie. It’s not, but it could be.

“Truth,” she guesses.

“You’re right.” I smile. “Your turn.”

“Hmm.” She taps her fingers on the table. “I’ve never had a pet.”

Never? That seems to be a bit of a stretch. Everyone has had at least a goldfish or a hamster.

“Lie. No way that you’ve never had a pet.”

She is beaming as she says, “Ha! It’s true. My parents never had a pet because my mom was always so allergic to everything. And they thought fish were pointless to have, so I never did.”

“But why not get one now?” I ask her.

My family had two German shepherds when I was growing up, and I couldn’t imagine my childhood without them. Especially when Rocco took a chunk out of my dad’s arm while he was hurting me. It would have seemed so lonely without them. But they both passed away when I was eleven.

She shrugs her shoulders. “I don’t know. I’ve always really wanted a German shepherd.” Her eyes seem to glaze over as she imagines it. “With their cute little faces and big ears. And they’re so smart, and they can be trained so well. If I ever get a dog, it will probably be one of those.”

“I actually had two shepherds as a kid. They’re my favorite too.” I smile at the small similarity we share. “All righty, my turn. I read the Fifty Shades book series.”

She bites her lower lip as she studies my face. “Truth.”

“Why truth?” I scoff. I can’t believe she got it right.

“I don’t know. I feel like you might have taken notes from them. You totally did, didn’t you?” She smiles, anxiously awaiting my answer.

I can’t hold back my smirk as I answer her, “I did, and, yes, I took notes—mental ones, but still.”

Her cheeks redden as she thinks of her next statement. “One night, when I was at the library, reading, I fell asleep and didn’t wake up until morning.”

I can totally picture Nikki’s idea of a crazy adventure being staying overnight at the library. “Truth.”

“Correct.” She claps at my victory.

“I lost my virginity when I was seventeen,” I say.

“Lie. No way in hell Cam Costello waited until he was seventeen to have sex,” she says with so much conviction.

Leaning into the table, I whisper, “Truth.” Then, I tease her because she said my last name. “And someone has been stalking me.”

“Shut up. Of course I social-stalked you,” she says with so much sarcasm. “Every girl should do that to any and every guy they date.”

“Fair enough. Your turn.” My stomach grumbles. I hope food gets here soon.

She leans into the table, and this time, I let myself look at her chest, which is pressed up against the table and spilling out of the top of her dress.

“Come here,” she whispers, and her tone shoots straight to my dick.

I lean forward and turn my head for her to whisper in my ear.

She exhales, and the warm breath that caresses my ear causes my eyes to roll to the back of my head and my blood to rush to my cock.

“I was reading this super-dirty book one night in the back of the library. And I was so turned on that I couldn’t resist sliding my hand up my skirt. I couldn’t believe how wet I was from one little scene in a book,” she whispers, and I think her voice is the sexiest thing I have ever heard.

Jesus fucking Christ.

At this point, I don’t even care if it’s true or not. That alone was a gift to my goddamn ears.

I turn my head and pull back just enough to meet her eyes. “Lie.”

She purses her lips. “Ugh. Yes, it was a lie, but only partially. I did do that; it just wasn’t at the library.”

“Truth or lie? I’m hard as fuck under this table right now,” I whisper near her mouth, our faces only inches apart.

She glances over my shoulder before looking back at me and saying, “Can I feel to find out?”

Oh my God.

Lifting my hips, I try to find a comfortable position, being this hard in these tight-as-fuck pants.

She quickly sits back in her seat, and I learn why.

Our waiter steps up to our table and sets our food down. “Is there anything else I can get you right now?”

She answers for us politely, “No, thank you.”

When she looks back at me, she has such a dangerous look in her eyes. I don’t get rock-hard boners from something being whispered in my ear.

What is this girl fucking doing to me?