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

I’m sitting on the couch in the lobby, playing Archero on my phone. Nevaeh stayed in the room to shower and get ready for dinner. She said it wouldn’t bother her if I stayed, but I decided it would be best if I went downstairs. Just picturing her in the shower fucks up my mood; I’m having a hard time concentrating on anything else.

The less temptation, the better. I’m already walking a very thin line between what is right and what I want. And fucking Nevaeh into oblivion should definitely not be something I consider at all. It shouldn’t even cross my mind, but it does…and blyat’⁠1—I’m thinking about her all over again.

I quit the game and send my mom a text to let her know I made it to Vegas. It’s around five a.m. in Belarus, and she should still be asleep, but the last thing I want is to worry her. She’s the most important person in my life. Without her, I’m not sure I would’ve made it through Maksim’s death. Everything I have now is because of Mom, and I’d go to the end of the fucking earth for her.

“Sorry,” a sugary-sweet voice says, and I look up from my phone. A redhead with wild curls framing her face stands beside the couch, her hands locked behind her. My gaze slips down to her cleavage—her tits are almost spilling out of her black dress. Raising my eyes back to her face, I see a sultry smile on her red lips. “I’m here with my friends.” She points over her shoulder at two girls standing near the reception desk. “And I noticed you’re here all alone, so I thought maybe I should introduce myself. I’m Zoey.”

Tilting my head to the side, I continue to stare at her without saying anything. She shifts in place, crossing her legs at the ankles. My silence makes her uncomfortable, but I don’t really feel bad about it.

“It’s nice to meet you, Zoey,” I finally say. “What are you and your friends doing in Vegas?”

A relieved sigh jumps out of her parted lips. She uncrosses her ankles and steps closer to the couch. “We’re here for my friend’s bachelorette party. We plan to let loose. Do some crazy stuff, you know? What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas, right?” She doesn’t hesitate to sit down beside me, her leg brushing mine. “What brings you to Vegas?”

Trying to hide from haunting memories is the answer, but of course I keep that to myself.

“Same as you, I guess, aside from the friend who’s getting married.”

Her face, which has a smattering of freckles, lights up, and she inches closer. “Any chance you’d like to join us? Hang out with me and my friends?”

“I don’t think my friend would like that.”

Putting her hand on my knee, Zoey turns to me. Her flowery scent mixed with the alcohol on her breath envelops us both. “You think your friend won’t like us? The girls and I are nice…very nice.”

I hold her gaze as her hand slowly moves up my leg. Well, this is new. I don’t remember anyone ever coming on to me this hard. The elevator dings, and the click of approaching heels echoes through the lobby. Averting my gaze from Zoey, I see Nevaeh heading over. A white summer dress with little flowers streams down her body, ending just above her knees. A bodice accentuates her narrow waist and pushes up her round tits. Her hair cascades down her bare shoulders, two braids framing her face. She slumps down onto the couch beside me and leans forward.

“What did I miss?” she asks, making Zoey retract her hand from my leg.

“I was making friends with Zoey,” I reply nonchalantly. “She’s here for a bachelorette party.”

“Um…I didn’t know you were here with someone…sorry. I better go,” Zoey mutters, rising to her feet.

Scurrying away from the couch, she joins her friends, and a moment later they step into the elevator. Unable to keep my face straight, I turn to Nevaeh with a huge grin on my lips. “I think I can use your help with scaring the girls away.”

Her slightly narrowed eyes roam over my face. “Was her hand on your knee when I got here?”

“A bit higher, actually,” I confirm.

“A bit higher,” she repeats, shaking her head. “I didn’t take you for a touchy-feely guy, but I guess it depends on the person who’s doing the touching.” Standing up from the couch, she hovers over me. “Let’s go to dinner. I’m starving.”

Without waiting for my reply, Nevaeh turns on her heel and strolls to the exit. My gaze slides from her toned back down to her tanned legs in red heels. An indecent image of her on all fours flashes in my head, but I quickly push it away, jump to my feet, and follow her outside.

She sounded pissed, for whatever reason, and making things worse is definitely not on my to-do list. Not today, and not ever. I need this trip to help me survive next week.

“Remind me again why we’re doing this?” I ask Nevaeh as a few more people enter our pod at the High Roller. She glances at me and proceeds to the railing without a word. “Nevaeh?”

I stand next to her, my eyes coasting over the Las Vegas Strip. The glowing buildings and streets spread out before us. The city’s energy is full of vivid colors, intensified by the never-ending sounds of nightlife. The night sky creates an astounding background, making the city lights even brighter. My lips stretch into an involuntary smile, lightness filling my body. It feels good to be here, to not think about all the things that usually bother me.

“What do you think?” Her voice is quiet and a little distant. I squint at her, meeting her gaze.

“It’s beautiful,” I reply as the pod slowly starts to move.

She collects her hair and puts it over her shoulder, combing her fingers through it. “I just thought ten p.m. was too early to go back to our room. And since tomorrow we’re planning to go to the Bellagio all day, we might not have time for the High Roller. And you definitely don’t want to miss this when you come to Vegas.”

“It was a great idea. Thank you.”

Lifting her shoulder in a tiny shrug, Nevaeh focuses her gaze on the view in front of her. I take it in too. Other people chat around us, laughing and joking, but it doesn’t bother me. If anything, the noise quiets my inner voice, keeps me from focusing on my past. It’s good to be here.

“So, was that girl from the lobby your type?”

Blinking, I turn my head and stare at Nevaeh. She’s not looking at me; her gaze is still glued to the view outside the pod. “You mean that Zoey girl?”

“If that’s her name.” Nevaeh sneaks a glance at me and looks away immediately. “Was she?”

Furrowing my brow, I keep silent, racking my brain for an answer. I didn’t expect her to bring that up, especially not now. At dinner she was a bit pouty and hostile at first, but once the waiter finally brought her penne basilica with a glass of prosecco, her mood changed. She told me about her work at the magazine and the articles she’d been working on, including a recap of a Taylor Swift concert she went to with Angie, Drake, and his sister, Layla. She even talked about how she loves cats. That was actually hilarious, especially after she started rambling about Angie’s dog, Cooper, and how he helped her change her mind and become a dog person too.

The conversation was fun and light, but this question right now isn’t.

“She was pretty,” I say, and Nevaeh’s eyes instantly fly to me. A little scowl crosses her features, darkening her gaze. “I don’t really have a type.”

“Everyone does,” she counters, shifting from one leg to the other.

“What’s yours then?”

“It’s not about appearances for me.” Nevaeh turns around and leans against the glass, staring off into the distance. “I’ve dated men and women, and I never really defined which I like more or what attracts me to them. It’s more about their vibes, and the emotions they bring me.”

“And you say everyone has a type?” I turn to my right, propping my shoulder against the glass to get a better look at her. “But you don’t?”

A gentle grin dances across her lips, and she cocks her head, meeting my gaze. “You have a point. Though, the more I think about it, the more I believe it’s really about attraction on a deeper level. When you just know you both are on the same wavelength.”

Before I can stop myself, I ask a question that’s been hanging on the tip of my tongue. “Were you and Travis like that?”

Her smile falls. The tension in her shoulders becomes evident. Then she sighs, and her hands slide down the skirt of her dress, as if trying to smooth invisible wrinkles. “Maybe at first…” She shakes her head, her hair veiling her shoulders. “Damn, Roman, you’re good. Turning the conversation around without me even realizing. Fine, let’s pretend I believe you. You don’t have a type.”

My gaze coasts around her face, admiring the smooth, radiant glow of her skin. Her little upturned nose and those full, tantalizing lips, the sprinkle of freckles on her nose and cheeks. Her big, sapphire eyes framed by long eyelashes and softly curved eyebrows. She’s not wearing a lot of makeup tonight, and still…she’s breathtakingly beautiful.

She wants to know what my type is? She just needs to look at herself in the mirror.

“I’m paying for your drinks tomorrow,” she suddenly exclaims, and I frown. “I don’t feel comfortable having you pay for everything. You promised to let me pay for something, and yet dinner was on you.”

A smirk plays on my lips. I push myself off the glass and stop in front of her. Nevaeh cranes her neck, and our gazes smash together. I press my hands to the glass next to her face, crowding her in my embrace, and lower my head.

“I invited you on a trip last minute. You just broke up with your boyfriend and need to rent an apartment, and most landlords require a security deposit. I know you can pay for dinner, drinks, or anything else we decide to do while we’re here. That doesn’t mean you should have to,” I say with a smile. “Besides, my mom taught me that if I invite a girl somewhere, I should be the one to pay. And I hate disappointing my mom.”

Nevaeh gazes at me in silence; her chest rises and falls rapidly. Suddenly, a genuine smile breaks across her face, and she dips her head to the side, her hair brushing my hand. “Your mom raised a good man.”

“She did. My mom is the best.”

Her gaze becomes distant, and her smile slips away. But then she quickly recovers, the corners of her mouth quirking up. Taking a step forward, she grabs my tee in her fist and pulls me closer to her. “I’m still paying for something tomorrow. Anything. Drinks or food.” She tugs on my T-shirt, and I lower my head even more, so our foreheads are almost touching. “If I need to fight you on this, I will. Am I clear, Roman?”

“Very.” I nod, swallowing down my nerves. Her closeness affects me in the worst—or best—way possible. My skin heats up, the beating of my heart skyrocketing within milliseconds.

Letting go of my T-shirt, Nevaeh steps back. The next thing I know, she’s standing with her back to me, watching as our pod starts to descend.

Tomorrow will be…interesting.

1 Блять (cuss word) — Fuck