Breakaway: An Accidental Marriage Hockey Romance (Sinners on the Ice)

Where is Roman?

The question is like an annoying ad that keeps popping up. I mentally close it and try to distract myself by watching How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days—but then it’s back again, flashing in my head like a freaking strobe light. It’s been three hours since the game ended, and he’s still not home.

Did something happen?

I take my phone from the couch, check it again, and put it down. No messages, no calls. Sure, I could call him myself, but wouldn’t that seem needy? I don’t want him to think that I can’t spend even a few hours without him. Because I can…just not now.

Something about the way he looked as he left the ice made my heart clench in my chest. His features were dark, like the sky on a stormy day. I didn’t even see a ghost of a smile, but what weirded me out was how he avoided eye contact with anyone from his team. Anger was bubbling inside him, it was so clear and so disturbing. Yet there was more, and I’m not sure I interpreted it right.

Was it resentment?

I tense as I hear the door opening and closing. Biting my bottom lip, I glue my gaze to the TV. My plan is to act as nonchalant as possible, to not let him see how much I’m worried about him.

His steps are slow. I bite my bottom lip, wincing from the pain that strikes right through me. For the life of me, I can’t concentrate on what’s happening in the movie.

“Hey,” Roman says, sitting down beside me on the couch. I turn my head to look at him and instantly notice that he’s keeping his distance. His elbows are on his knees, his hands locked together in front of him. “What are you watching?”

“How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days. It’s an old rom-com,” I tell him, plastering a smile on my face, even if I don’t feel like smiling. “Layla watched it recently, and it made me want to rewatch it too.”

“Never seen it.”

“I didn’t figure you’d be a rom-com lover, so I’m not surprised. It’s good. I can restart if you want⁠—”

“No.” Roman stands up, slides his hands down his legs, and then pats his thighs. “I need a shower, and then I’m going to my room. I’m just going to crash. You can watch the movie. The noise won’t bother me.”

Pinching my eyebrows together, I gape at him in silence. Since he got back from Mexico, I haven’t spent a single night in my own bed. Even while he was away I slept in his bedroom. And now he’s telling me I’m not allowed in there?

“Um, Roman⁠—”

“Night, Nevaeh.” He nods and heads to the bathroom. I stare at his broad shoulders under his jacket and his narrow torso—irritation rises in my chest and climbs all the way up my neck and into my cheeks.

What the hell is going on?

The click of the door closing rips me out of my daze. I look down at my hands, noticing how my fingers are trembling. He’s pissed me off big time, and this is probably the first time I’ve felt so angry at him. When he went to Mexico after kissing me, my anger was mixed with hurt and disappointment. It was a cocktail of emotions, but I knew how to explain what happened between us and what led him to flee to another country. Now? I have no fucking clue.

When I glance at the TV, one of my favorite moments of all time, when Matthew McConaughey’s character sees Kate Hudson’s character walking down the stairs in that gorgeous yellow dress, is displayed on the screen. Usually it makes me swoon, but now I’m too agitated to care.

Grabbing the remote, I quickly turn off the TV and toss it onto the coffee table. I stand up, and my eyes instantly fly to his bathroom door. It’s such a bad idea, but I know myself too well. I’m not going to listen to my reasonable side. With him, there’s nothing rational about how I feel. It’s all pure emotion, and it consumes me like nothing ever has before.

In a few strides, I’m standing at the closed door. He might kick me out, but right now that’s the least of my concerns. I want to know what’s going on. I want to help.

With a deep breath, I put my hand on the doorknob and open the door wide. My gaze immediately meets his. Roman is standing in front of the mirror, his hands on either side of the sink. He’s shirtless, his pants low on his hips. I’m momentarily distracted, but it fades pretty quickly. The anger flashing behind his irises sobers me up fast.

“What are you doing in here?” Roman asks.

“What happened?”

“You were at the game. We lost,” he bites out, pushing himself off of the bathroom counter.

“What happened after that?” I step further into the bathroom, closing the door behind me.

“Nothing. I’m just in a bad mood.”

I move forward tentatively, holding his gaze even though it’s hard. The heaviness of his glare makes my steps feel like it weighs a ton. “Are you angry with me because I wore Drake’s jersey?”

Roman clenches his teeth, his nostrils flaring. “I didn’t like it, but it’s fine; you don’t owe me anything.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m telling you, everything is okay. My mood is just fucked up, and I want to be alone.”

Swallowing the ball of nerves that climbs up my throat, I step closer and look up at him, studying his face and hoping to see my Roman. That broken boy I’ve grown to like so much, it makes me wonder if it’s actually love.

“Why are you pushing me away?” I whisper.

His face contorts; his carefully placed mask is dropping. His eyes darken, and his features become narrower. “Because this is wrong.”

A pang of sorrow pierces my heart. He doesn’t mean that. I might be delusional, might indulge in wishful thinking from time to time. But I know what we have is real. People can’t control how they feel all the time, and neither can he. Especially not when he’s in such a vulnerable state, with his walls down and his damaged soul exposed for me to see. I know he cares, and that he craves my company just as much as I crave his. This is stronger than anything I’ve ever felt, and I refuse to give up on him. On us.

“It doesn’t feel wrong to me.” I press my palm to his chest, right above his heart. Its violent beat echoes in my ears, sizzling through me. “It feels all kinds of right.”

Roman watches me with his eyebrows pinched together. His emotional turmoil is written all over his face, and it makes my heart ache. I’d do anything for him.

Lifting his hand, he cups my cheek. His eyes are trained on my mouth as he tilts my face up to him. With a slowness that sets my body on fire, he slides his hand down my throat and wraps it around the nape of my neck.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispers hoarsely.

“You won’t.”

“Nevaeh…” Roman growls, his lips hovering over mine.

“Don’t call me that. I’m your…Malyshka.” A smile spreads across his lips, and his hold on my neck tightens. “Talk to me, Roman.”

He bends to my ear and sucks my earlobe into his mouth. “I don’t want to talk now. I want to fuck…but I can’t promise to be gentle.”

“Who said I want you to be gentle?” I taunt. Then I press my lips to his, closing the distance between us. I’m tired of his games.

We kiss, his lips moving with mine. It’s anything but slow. It’s raw and passionate, consuming me completely. I’m losing myself in him, fading into this man without any regrets.

My tongue slips out of my mouth, and I trace his bottom lip with it. The saltiness I taste makes my eyes snap open. I pull away, gawking at Roman from under my furrowed brow. Has he been crying?

“Roman…” I whisper, cupping his face with my palms. “What happened?”

His eyes search mine, the crease between his eyebrows only deepening. Suddenly, he takes a step back, and my hands drop to my sides. My lips part, but my breath gets stuck in my throat when he snakes his hand around my waist, turns me around, and pulls me to his chest.

Guiding me toward the sink, he stops when my legs hit the bathroom cabinet. Our eyes meet in the reflection of the mirror, and all I see is animalistic need. His usually deep turquoise eyes look like a starless sky, dark and endless. Roman places his hands on my hips and pulls my cotton shorts down to my ankles, taking them off. I’m still in my panties, but he gets rid of those by ripping them apart. Again.

“You need to stop doing that,” I scold him, breathing heavily. “Soon I won’t have any underwear left.”

“Maybe I don’t want you”—he puts his hand on the small of my back and pins me down—“to wear any underwear around me.”

His hands move gently over my sides, sliding to my hips and lower, to my thighs. The moment he bends my right leg at the knee and lifts it, placing it on the countertop, I gasp. My nipples rub against the marble, ramping my desire up to an impossible level. I got high once, in high school, and damn if being with him doesn’t feel just like that.

“Be a good girl for me, Nevaeh,” Roman orders, sliding his palm between my thighs and feeling how wet I am for him. “Look at yourself in the mirror while I make you come.”

He gets on his knees, and all I see in the reflection are my flushed cheeks and my disheveled hair falling into my eyes. My anticipation grows stronger, and when he finally drags his tongue down my slit, I let out a loud moan. Fuck, this is everything.

Digging his fingers into my ass cheeks, he spreads me open wider. His tongue swirls around my clit, then he sucks it into his mouth and releases it with a pop. When he blows on it, it clears my head from thoughts altogether. This man…his tongue in my pussy is all I want. His strokes are long, like he’s doing it on purpose, licking my pussy and fucking me with his tongue as slowly as possible. I have no idea how he expects me to look at myself in the mirror, because the pleasure is so good, I’m fucking levitating.

Roman licks and sucks, speeding up one moment and then slowing down the second I start to clench around him. He’s depriving me of my orgasm, making me desperate.

“Roman, please.”

“Please what, Malyshka?” he taunts. His tongue is lapping my clit so good, my eyes roll back in my head.

“Let me come,” I beg. “Please, Roman.”

“Will you ever wear anyone else’s jersey to my game again?”

“No. Never!” I cry out. My body goes rigid for a moment, and then my orgasm takes over. It’s intense, and my legs are quivering. He doesn’t stop though. Fucking me with his tongue, circling his lips around my clit even through my release. He makes me see stars, and I swear it’s never felt so good.

His tongue is fucking magic.

“I’m spent,” I tell him as he rises to his feet and hovers over me from behind. A smile that would put the Cheshire cat to shame crosses his lips.

He unbuckles his belt and pulls it off. “Hands behind your back,” he commands. I do as he tells me, obeying him without question. I feel leather wrap around my wrists, tying my hands together. “Does that hurt?”

“No.” A thrill of excitement rolls down my spine; every nerve in my body comes to life.

I watch him through the reflection, my eyes locked on his handsome face. Roman takes off his pants and boxers, and once he’s completely naked, he steps into me. His hard dick presses into my ass and makes me lose my mind. He rubs his cock between my ass cheeks, and I go feral for him. My mind becomes so hazy, I don’t think I’d even be able to tell him my name if he asked.

Adjusting himself, he slowly pushes his hard dick into my pussy. Inch after fucking inch. I’m full even before he’s completely in. He finds a rhythm and starts pounding into me with a slowness I didn’t expect. It’s like he’s controlling his every move, letting my pussy get used to his size.

“Fuck, Nevaeh, I love how tight you are,” Roman coos, his hands firmly wrapped around my waist. “Thrusting into you till you take me whole is my favorite.”

“Oh my God,” I whimper when his hips slam into mine. He’s balls deep inside me, and my eyes flutter closed for a second.

“You keep calling for God, Malyshka, but I’m the one who’s fucking you,” Roman incites me, smiling at me in the mirror. “Fuck, the way you’re clenching around me…Give it to me…Davay⁠1, Nevaeh, come for me…”

Railing me harder and faster, he wraps his hand around my hair and lifts. My wrists are burning, but it feels so perfect everywhere, I don’t even pay attention to it. A loud growl scatters from his parted lips, and his eyes close. He’s coming inside me, triggering my own orgasm, and my pussy spasms around his dick.

“You feel so good,” I praise him. My breaths come in ragged bursts. “You give me the best orgasms…I don’t think I’ll be able to walk.”

When Roman stops moving, he steps back and pulls me up. Gently, he unties my wrists and drapes a hand around my waist, making me face him. Our eyes are glued to each other, locked in a world of their own. His gaze drops to my heated cheeks and down my chest, stopping at my wrists.

He frowns, curling his hand around my wrist and lifting it to his face. “You said it didn’t hurt.”

“It didn’t.” I smile, but he doesn’t return it. “I was desperate to touch you, so I kept twisting my wrists. You didn’t hurt me.”

“Promise? You’re not lying to me?” Roman lowers his head, pressing his forehead to mine.

“Never.”

His gaze roaming over my face, he takes my chin between his thumb and index finger, making me look him in the eye. “Take a shower with me.”

I nod, and he gives me the sweetest kiss.

“Will you tell me what happened?” I ask as he pulls me toward the shower stall.

“Once we’re in bed,” he replies. He glances at me over his shoulder. “First, I want to take care of you.”

Yes, please.

1 Давай — Give it to me