Iced Out (Leighton U Book 1)

“Are you sure you’re up for this?”

I glance up to Quinton where he’s standing across from me, leaning against the handlebars of his Indian Scout. He looks sexy as ever in a white tee and jeans, the lines and patterns of his tattoos popping out from beneath the sleeves. It makes it hard to concentrate on what I’m doing.

Which is learning to drive the fucking motorcycle currently between my thighs.

It’s never been an item on my bucket list, but I still remember the day he mentioned teaching me to drive it after one of our countless hook-ups, and more importantly, the spark in Quinn’s eyes at the thought of teaching me about something he loves.

It’s a light I never want to see go out. Ever.

So when he mentioned going for a ride today in passing, I thought…what better time than the present? Except, now that I’m straddling the damn thing, anxiety has set in, and I’m starting to regret my line of thinking altogether.

Still, I swallow down my unease and give a firm nod. “Yeah, let’s do this.”

One dark brow arches, but he just nods toward the bike. “Then start her up.”

Doing as he says, I turn the ignition switch he showed me earlier to the right.

“Okay, now flip the switch on the right-hand grip. That engages the electrical system.” When I do, he nods again and places his right hand over my left and gives a gentle squeeze. “Perfect, now pull in the clutch and push the start button.”

My finger hovers over the start button on the right handle for a moment as I stare into his icy blue eyes, and he gives me an easy, reassuring smile.

“You got this, baby. Let her roar.”

The engine purrs to life beneath me a moment later, and in that moment, I understand why he loves this as much as he does. The thrill it shoots through me is unreal. Only pure power and adrenaline.

I look up from the bike to him grinning down at me.

“You getting on?”

A look of amusement on his ridiculously handsome face. “You want me to ride bitch on my own bike?”

Now it’s my turn to be amused. “As if you don’t love every chance you get to rub up against me from behind?”

His lips purse for a moment before he nods. “Maybe, but you’re not naked right now.” Another brief pause, and then, “Wait, is that something we can—”

“Absolutely not,” I say with a laugh, but I’d be lying if the thought didn’t sound semi-appealing…as long as it was off and the kickstand was down. Or maybe him bent over it…

Damn. Spending all this time with him must really be rubbing off on me.

I shake the dirty thoughts free as best I can and motion with my head to the seat on the back. “C’mon. You know you want to.”

His lips purse for a moment, forming into a tight, thin line as he debates if he has complete trust in me not to destroy one of his most prized possessions…only to round the bike and climb behind me with ease.

Probably a wise decision, if I’m being honest.

Quinn’s torso presses against my back, making it even harder to concentrate than when I could see him. His heat radiating through my shirt sends shivers down my spine as he peeks over my shoulder and continues instructing me with reassurance.

“Okay, you got this. Push your left toe down to put it in first gear. You’ll use your heel to go into second once we start moving. Okay, and then release the clutch slowly while rolling the throttle with your right hand.” He pauses, and I feel the nod of his chin against my shoulder as I do what he says. “That’s it, baby. A little more gas and—”

The bike jerks beneath us, and Quinn’s hands latch onto the handle bars outside of mine, clamping down the clutch and handbrake.

“A little less than that. We don’t need it flying out from under us.” He laughs before pressing a kiss to the back of my neck. “C’mon. Try again. You got this.”

He releases his hold on the handle bars, and I repeat the steps he told me, a little gentler on the gas this time. And like he said, we’re moving across the empty parking lot.

Once we’re going, Quinn’s arms wrap around my waist the way mine have done to him countless times before while we fly down the pavement at what must be a hundred miles an hour, my heart pounding in my ears with the roar of the engine.

And again, I understand why he loves this so much.

The freedom of this moment here with him is unmatched, and I’m basking in it.

Until I realize we’re quickly running out of room, and I have no idea which brake I’m supposed to use in order to stop this thing.

Quinn must realize this too, because he immediately takes control of the bike from behind me, both feet kicking mine out of the way on the footboards before clasping the handlebars too. Don’t ask me how it happens so quickly and easily, but he somehow brings us to a complete stop twenty yards from the end of the parking lot.

Once we’re no longer moving, Quinn kills the engine, and a stark silence falls over us.

He presses a kiss to the side of my throat right where my pulse is still racing beneath my skin, adrenaline coursing through my veins.

“Guess I should have mentioned more about braking before I let you ride off into the sunset.” He laughs, wrapping his arms around my waist again and squeezing me. “We’ll work on that the next go around.”

I ignore him completely, still high on the mini adrenaline rush from driving the thing on my own. “Okay, but you just saw me do that, right?”

A low chuckle leaves him and he presses another kiss to the side of my throat before leaning away. “I did. Nice job, hotshot. Maybe next time we can go above twenty.”

I turn and glare over my shoulder the best I can when he’s almost plastered against my back. “We were going faster than that.” Then I think about it, and… “Wait, we went faster than that, right?”

A shake of his head is all I get in answer, his lips rolling in to fight a smile.

Jackass.

He’s my jackass, though, even after all the shit I put him through last year, and that’s what’s important. There are times I don’t think I deserve the second chance he granted me, and when he looks at me the way he is right now is one of those times. With so much fucking pride and love, I could easily be consumed in it.

I’m proud of him too, having seen the work he’s put into becoming the person he is now, and it’s a damn shame his parents are still too fucking stubborn to see it. To want to know the brilliant, kind, charismatic man he is, rather than the shell of the person they wanted him to be.

But their loss…is my gain.

And I’ve gained the greatest teammate I could’ve ever asked for. On the ice, sure, there’s no one better. But it’s off the ice when it counts most, something he’s shown me every single day since we left Chicago for New Jersey.

I know, not the place I imagined myself living once making it to the NHL. But Windsor is almost dead center between Philly and New York City, so it held a lot of appeal after we were both drafted this summer.

Him to New York, and me to Philadelphia.

Playing for different teams again is something I’m not fond of, especially with knowing how great we can be on the ice together. A true dynamic duo that could be unstoppable, if given the chance to shine. But at least we’re on two different teams within a couple hours of each other, making living together a possibility during the off-season and when our home schedules match up.

It’s better than nothing.

And I’d also be lying if I said I wasn’t slightly butthurt over the fact that he got New York when they had been my team for years growing up. Philly isn’t bad though. Plus it gives me a little barb to toss at him, seeing as they drafted me five picks before New York got him.

Whatever little wins I can get in this never-ending competition with him, I’m gonna take.

“I’m still proud of you,” he says, ice blue eyes darting between mine. “You did a lot better than I did the first time I drove one.”

“I severely doubt that.”

“Well, considering you didn’t tip it, I’d say yes.”

My mouth drops open slightly. “You’re kidding.”

Another shake of the head. “Hand on heart, I don’t think I made it more than twenty yards before I toppled over. Granted, I was sixteen, but still.”

Laughter erupts between us, and he reaches up, thumb caressing my cheek where I’m smiling. I fight the urge to lean into it, but it’s almost impossible.

His touch still manages to light my skin on fire the same way that dimpled grin sends my heart into a tailspin. The same way his eyes tell me he loves me, even if the words don’t leave his lips.

My phone rings, cutting through our silence, and a quick glance at it reveals Louis’s name on the screen.

“Always ruining a moment,” Quinn mutters, pressing a chaste kiss to my lips. “But you should probably take it.”

I know I should. Louis never calls us unless it’s something important—usually concerning our contracts or some other legal crap—which is exactly why I answer the damn thing as quickly as possible.

“Louis,” I say in a way of greeting.

“Oakley,” Louis’s voice comes from through the speaker. “You got a minute?”

“Wouldn’t have answered if I didn’t.”

He sighs on the other end of the line. “I see that boyfriend of yours is a wonderful influence on your attitude,” he notes, exasperation clear in his tone. “I’ll make it quick. Do you want the good news or bad news first?”

My stomach might as well have dropped off the edge of the Empire State Building. “Bad news. Always.”

Quinn’s brows furrow, clearly picking up on my panicked and slightly agitated state. Which only gets worse when Louis says the three words I was dreading most.

“You’ve been traded.”

Instantly, my entire world tilts on its axis, my heart making its way into my throat. I suffocate on it as I gape over my shoulder at Quinn, completely at a loss for words.

He’s off the bike in an instant, eyes checking me over as if the news Louis just told me caused physical damage.

“What’s going on?” he whispers.

“I was traded,” I murmur more to myself than anyone else, shock taking over and making me just…numb.

“What?” Quinn asks, and I can see a small amount of anger setting a crease in his brow. “How is that possible? I thought Philly drafting you locked you into a contract?”

“I thought so too.” I’m at a complete loss, my stomach rolling and twisting, ready to revolt. “Louis, how is this even possible? Is there some clause or something that—”

“Would the two of you shut up so I can tell you the rest of the information?” Louis snaps, breaking through our conversation. “Jesus, I should have known not to sign the two of you together. Now you’re gonna be even more of a pain in my ass than normal after this news breaks.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Quinn asks before I have the chance to.

Louis ignores him. “How do you feel about New York?”

That’s enough to snap me out of my stupor. “It’s fucking great, but you’re about to send me off to some far end of the continent so I don’t understand why you’d sit here and rub in the fact that—”

“Oakley. With all due respect, shut up.”

My mouth drops open, then snaps back closed while Quinn chokes back a laugh.

“Great. Now ask me where you’re going.”

The urge to vomit is real when I whisper, “Where am I going?”

I wait for the words California or Denver or heaven forbid somewhere in fucking Canada to come barreling out of his mouth.

“New York.”

I didn’t hear him right, because I swear to God I heard him say—

“New York?” I repeat, my gaze locking with Quinton’s. The second the words leave my lips, his eyes might as well bug out of his head, and he grabs the phone out of my hand, switching Louis to speaker.

“Surely you’re joking,” comes from Quinn, whose eyes haven’t left mine. “And if you are, you’re fucking fired because that shit isn’t funny.”

“Well, hello to you too, Quinton,” Louis says, and I can almost see the smirk on his face at Quinn’s threat. If there’s anyone else on this planet who can handle my boyfriend’s temperamental side, it’s Louis.

“Cut the shit. Is this real?”

“You know I can’t be discussing another player’s contract—”

“Louis.” Quinton seethes into the receiver. “Is. This. Real?”

“Quinton—”

“Just answer the question, Louis. Please,” I snap, my temper wearing thin.

Another chuckle comes from him. “Yes, it’s real. You’ve been traded to New York, effective immediately.”

Quinn and I are both rattled from his bombshell as we gape at each other.

Somehow, I find my voice through the shock. “How is this possible?”

A disembodied scoff comes from the phone, floating into the space between Quinn and I. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that. I’m one of the best in the business, and when I have two NHL bound prospects who’d like to end up on the same team, I’m gonna do everything in my power to make it happen.”

“But my contract with Philly—”

“There’s a trade clause in it,” he reassures me. “It’s legal, and it’s happening. As of today, you’re officially a player for the New York Knights.”

Quinton lets out a loud whoop, the sound of it echoing off the pavement of the empty parking lot. Then he jumps up and down, almost pumping himself up before squatting in front of me. Excitement and joy dance in those blue eyes as he reels me in for a long, slow kiss that draws a moan out from the back of my throat.

“I, uh…I take it you’re no longer available to talk, Oakley. So just call me tomorrow and we can sort through the paperwork.” I hear him pause before adding, “Congratulations. Both of you.”

The phone beeps, notifying us of the call ending before we could say anything else, but it doesn’t matter. Quinton’s too busy stealing all the oxygen straight from my lungs. Something he’s gonna be able to do a whole lot more now that we’re on the same schedule.

Playing for the same damn team.

I finally break our kiss, resting my forehead against Quinton’s to catch my breath.

“I didn’t think I’d learn to drive a motorcycle and get traded when I woke up this morning.” I blow out another long breath. “It’s almost too much adrenaline for one day.”

“Aw, c’mon,” Quinn chides, a giant grin on his face. “I think this calls for a celebration. A really fucking big one.”

And with that, my boyfriend drops from where he was squatting in front of me to a kneeling position. Specifically on one knee.

My heart leaps in my throat as I gawk at him, completely at a loss for words now. But somehow, I find them when I notice him digging in the front pocket of his jeans.

“Quinn, I love you, but—”

“Not exactly the word a guy wants to hear after I love you, Oak.”

True. “But we’ve only been dating—”

“Relax, it’s not what you think,” he says, glancing at me briefly.

But it’s so soon.

“Okay, but Quinn—”

“Baby, can you just shut up?”

I clamp my mouth shut as I watch him, waiting silently until he produces…a pair of socks. All rolled up in the tightest little bundle he could manage.

Not a ring.

I breathe a silent sigh of relief when he takes my hand, grabs the top end of the socks and lets them unravel right into my palm.

My jaw drops back open.

They’re a pair of unofficial team socks for the New York Knights. Striped horizontally in hunter green, black, and white, complete with my name and #33 stitched into the material.

I look down at the pair of socks in my hands and back up at him, only to find him grinning at me like a goddamn fool. Dimples and all.

“Oakley Reed, will you be my teammate again?”

It’s by far the corniest, cheesiest thing he’s ever done, but fuck, if I don’t love him even more for it. But then something dawns at me as I stare down at the socks a little more.

“You knew?”

He rises to full height with a laugh. “Of course I knew.”

“But…how? Louis—”

“Accidentally attached the wrong contract to an email to me. Your contract,” he finishes. “Which could have been really bad, yes. But thankfully it was to me and not someone else.”

“So you knew before he called just now.”

He nods. “I told him I wanted to surprise you with it, since I got to be the one to find out first. So I had the socks made and express-shipped to the apartment. They just got here this morning, so I let Louis know today was the day.”

I blink at him, not sure if I’m in awe or completely pissed. “Just how long have you two been sitting on this?”

This time, I get an off-handed shrug. “Like three days?”

Yeah, definitely pissed. “You knew for days and didn’t say anything?”

“I had to wait for the socks to get in,” he says in defense. “And Louis wanted me to tell you he’s sorry for accidentally breaching confidentiality and he hopes you don’t fire him.”

I scoff. “You two are unbelievable.”

“No, what’s unbelievable is the fact that you don’t wanna marry me,” he counters, brow arched playfully. “Care to explain that one, Oak?”

I bite my bottom lip because, yeah, it wasn’t my finest moment. Not by a long shot.

“It’s just too soon.”

He nods. “I agree, but I can tell from your reaction, I’m gonna be ready a helluva lot sooner than you will. So just take your time, and you can ask when you’re ready.”

“I can ask?”

“I was the one who chased in the beginning. It’s your turn now, baby.” He steps between my thighs and gazes down at me, arms wrapping around the back of my neck. “But are you gonna answer me or not? Every minute you keep me waiting, I’m gonna double when it’s your turn to get on one knee.”

My brows furrow, and then I realize…

“I don’t think I have a choice in being your teammate when contracts are involved.”

“Good,” he says, a lilt of laughter in his voice. “Just means you’re stuck with me.”

And with that, he pulls my head against his chest in an embrace that has me thinking I might be okay with it. After all, there’s worse people in the world for me to be stuck with.

“I still can’t believe you knew and you just pretended the entire time you didn’t.”

“It was pretty easy, seeing as I learned from the best.”

The smile in his voice is obvious to anyone with ears, and I pull back to glare at him in disbelief that he actually went there.

But he did. It’s Quinn, and he loves nothing more than to push all my buttons.

“You know, I really fucking hate you sometimes.”

He laughs that smooth, satin laugh of his, squeezing me against his chest even tighter than he was moments ago.

“I know, baby. I love you too.”