Pinkie Promise (Carter Ridge Book 1)

We have ten more minutes of practice before we have to vacate the ice, and Benson’s absence from the stands today means that I have to play the role of Coach as well as the role of Captain. We start up a final drill of high-speed puck-passing and by the time that it’s five to the hour the whole team is starting to look borderline nauseous.

“Think I’ve got whiplash in my head,” Tanner groans before throwing up the guard on his helmet and bending at the knees.

“Four more minutes,” I shout to the guys.

“I’m never complaining about Benson again,” Hughes, one of our defence-men, growls after a painful sounding gag.

After two and a half more minutes of back-and-forth sprinting up and down the rink, I take a look at my crawling teammates and decide to call time.

Tanner limps over to me, trudging hard across the ice.

“Motherfucking fuck,” he mumbles, tossing his helmet down next to us. I remove my helmet too and nod at the guys as they make their way to the changing rooms.

Although Tanner is acting like he’s dying I know that it’s just a front for whatever shit is actually going on in his head. If I hadn’t been chosen as this year’s captain then Tanner would have been in the role for the second year running. He’s a machine on the ice when he’s not stressing over chicks.

Our roommate Caden pulls off his gloves and skates over to us, never lifting a blade from the ice. He removes his headgear and shakes out his dark spiky hair.

“You played like the fucking Terminator today,” Tanner acknowledges as Caden stows his helmet under his bicep. Tanner’s eyes then slide over to the one person sitting in the audience and he adds on dryly, “I wonder why.”

Caden rolls his neck and snickers. “You jealous? You’re lucky that I’m even wasting my time over here talking to y’all given the circumstances.”

I glance over to the stands where Caden’s girlfriend from home is sat, her knees tucked up under her chin. Her pink hair matches her flushed cheeks.

“I wanted to make sure that you’ve got the shit ready for this weekend,” Tanner says, puffing out his chest as he crosses his arms in front of his pecs.

It’s safe to say that Tanner is not the jealous type, but given his recent dry-spell he hasn’t been on his friendliest behaviour.

“What shit do I have to get ready?” Caden asks with a grimace. “I’m not twenty-one. I can’t get the alcohol.”

“I’ll grab it,” I grunt, stepping subtly between them. Tanner is spoiling for a fight and, with his girlfriend in the stands, Caden wouldn’t say no to one either.

Tanner drags a hand down his face and lets out a pissed off grumble. “I need something way stronger than alcohol.”

Caden decides to risk his life. “We all know what you need. It’s five-foot-four and comes with pom-poms.”

Tanner’s eyes burn straight into Caden’s, which only makes him smirk harder. “It’s not that simple, asshole. She’s got a fucking boyfriend.”

Caden’s smile drops instantly. “Then stop chasing her, asshole. If she’s not available, she’s not available.”

“What if her boyfriend’s a piece of shit, Caden?” Tanner bites back.

“Going after someone who’s spoken for ain’t exactly saintly either, Mason.”

The first-name name-check has Tanner’s body turning to stone.

“That’s it,” I decide, jerking the blunt tip of my thumb towards the other side of the rink. “Five laps each, both of you.”

“Training’s over, Benson,” Tanner growls at me.

“We finished early, and you’re still pent up. If y’all get blood on this rink I sure as shit ain’t cleaning it. Do the damn laps.”

Caden drops his helmet with a loud thud and doesn’t say a word as he starts skating to the goal at the other side of the ice.

“He’s such an asshole,” Tanner mutters, a flash of real hurt in his eyes.

I don’t have a clue what’s going on between Tanner, Aisling O’Malley, and the boyfriend who I know nothing about, but it’s obviously driving Tanner up the wall. I haven’t seen him this stressed since we came second at last year’s championship final.

“Five laps,” I repeat, hoping that the distraction will calm him down.

“You have to get me a shit-tonne of alcohol, though,” Tanner counters.

“Where do you think I’m heading after practice?” I ask.

He makes prayer hands and then turns to do his laps.

I head to the sin bin and heave myself down.

We’ve smashed two away games in the past two weeks but I would feel a hell of a lot better about the wins if I’d had someone to celebrate with.

I texted Fallon to ask to see her again but she told me that her grant application deadline had been moved forward, so she’s going hell-for-leather with the essay that she has to submit for it, not to mention the fact that we’re smack-dab in the middle of essay season and her Sundays are unavailable because I got her a damn job. Basically, her schedule is so full that she barely has a second to text me back, let alone date me, and on the one occasion that she actually picked up one of my phone calls we were only talking for three minutes before her roommate grabbed her for cheer practice.

I’m itching to get back to the locker room so that I can text her about the party that we’re doing at the hockey house this Friday. Knowing that Caden has his girlfriend staying over for the whole weekend he won’t be leaving his bedroom for one single minute.

Tanner finally slumps down next to me and glowers up at Caden as he makes his way past us. Caden returns the stare, equally frosty.

“We might actually kill each other on Friday,” Tanner tells me, head twisted over his shoulder so that he can hurt himself further by watching Caden slide to the edge of the rink where his girlfriend has gone to meet him. Caden dips down to press his face into her neck and then he tangles his hand in her hair, crushing his mouth over hers.

“What’s the deal with you and Aisling O’Malley?” I ask.

Tanner shakes his head and then drops it between his shoulders. “Fuck if I know. I just have this feeling that something isn’t right with the guy she’s seeing.”

“Know who he is?”

Tanner shrugs. “I know he’s at college but he doesn’t go here, thank fuck. I don’t know his name and I don’t know what he looks like. Ash has no social media.”

I grimace for him. Fallon’s Instagram photos are the only things keeping my blood pumping right now.

“Whoa,” Tanner says suddenly, his head jerking up. He tips his chin at the door that the guys just went through and says, “Isn’t that yours?”

I glance up, and then I immediately do a double-take. Fallon is standing in the doorway to the rink wearing a baby-blue two-piece. Her blonde hair is spilling over her chest and she has a cheer ribbon pinned at the back of it.

“Jesus Christ,” I murmur as I heave myself up, my eyes running down to the apex of her thighs.

“Does she always wear that stuff?” Tanner asks, his eyebrows raised as he gives her a once-over. Fallon catches my eyes, smiles, and I start skating over to her as I grunt the affirmative. “You need to give her your jersey,” Tanner continues, keeping pace beside me. “Stake a claim.”

“I only have one fucking jersey,” I mumble, quickly shoving a hand through my sweat-soaked fringe. “Where did this idea come from that college hockey players have a billion jerseys to give to their chicks? We play D1 ice hockey, we’re not stocking merch on the NHL website.”

But now that the idea is in my head, Tanner’s right. She needs one.

“You know what, scratch that,” I say. “I’d play shirtless if Fallon would let me put her in my jersey.”

Tanner smirks. “That’s the spirit.”

We slide to a stop in front of Fallon and I subtly gesture at Tanner to fuck off. He gives me a wry look before brushing way too firmly past Fallon.

“Put your guards on, prick,” I shout to him before he damages his blades any further.

He mouths Benson over his shoulder. I give him my middle finger.

Then I rake my hand through my hair and look down at the angel standing in front of me.

“I was just about to text you,” I admit, my voice hoarse as her eyes meet mine.

“Sorry that I’ve been AWOL,” she says, fidgeting with the gym bag that’s hooked over her small shoulder. Seeing as the last time I saw her we were making out against the wall of her condo I’m having a hard time not closing the gap between us right this second. “There’s just been a lot of stuff going on lately.”

I shake my head and say, “It’s fine, you’re a busy chick. But I had something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

“Oh?” she asks, smiling a little, and it’s that small hopeful smile that seals the deal.

I unhook the bag from her shoulder and place it down on the ground next to her soft white trainers. The shoulder she had hitched up drops with relief and, after a glance behind me to check that Caden is still occupied, I reach forward to grab Fallon’s waist and I pull her to the threshold of the rink.

She gasps the second that I get my hands on her body and satisfaction overflows like lava in my abdomen. There’s a centimetre of skin peeking between her crop top and her leggings and it’s softer than sin under the rough grip of my palms. I pull her forwards so that her chest is flush against my jersey and she wiggles her hips as she feels my body pressing against her.

“There’s a party at mine on Friday. Tanner’s idea,” I say. “I need you to come, otherwise I’m not going.”

Fallon laughs and, without thinking, I accidentally buck my hips against her. Not gonna lie, seeing as I’ve already got her pinned in place with my palms, we’re standing at the perfect angle for some solid friction.

She grips her hands into the front of my jersey and her eyes flash up to mine, desperate and sparkling.

“My essays–”

“Our door’s open from seven, you can come over anytime. Ten p.m., eleven p.m. – hell, you could pull up in your pyjamas at three in the morning and I ain’t about to kick you out.”

She smiles and shakes her head. “Hunter.”

“I want you there, Fallon. I haven’t seen you in weeks.” I remove one hand from her waist so that it can get lost in those curls. “Unless you’re avoiding me because you’ve got a boyfriend who I need to murder.”

She gives me a naughty look and puts on a sexy voice as she says, “Hunter, I have so many boyfriends.”

I bite down hard on my bottom lip to stifle the challenge-accepted grin that wants to break free. “You better be joking,” I murmur as I hook my forearm around her ass.

“What are you–?”

Before she can finish her question I heave her up against my chest and push back on my skates so that we’re the only people on the rink.

“You ever skated before?” I ask, as she squeals and grips her arms tightly around my neck.

“No, I haven’t! Oh God, please don’t drop me, please don’t drop me.”

I take one look at her face and realise that I have massively fucked up.

I stop still in the centre of the rink, thanking God that Benson isn’t here or he would have my fucking balls for bringing her on the ice without skates.

“Fallon, I’m sorry – look at me. Are you scared of being on the ice? I’ll take you back to the edge, just keep a tight hold, okay?”

“It’s not that,” she says, her voice a scared whisper. “It’s just… you’re carrying me… and… I don’t want to be dropped again.”

I remain completely still, looking at Fallon’s eyes that are squeezed tightly shut. I move the hand that I had in her hair so that it’s cupping her flushed pink cheek and she whimpers, the crease between her eyebrows knotting deeper.

“What do you mean ‘dropped again’?” I ask her slowly. She drops her forehead to my neck and doesn’t respond for a full minute. I feel guilty as shit.

I slide my hand around to the back of her neck and murmur, “Fallon, I’m not gonna drop you. Do you want me to take you to the edge? Can I skate us over there?”

I caress her pulse-point and hold her more firmly against my abs.

After another thirty seconds pass she finally whispers against my skin, “Are you sure that you’re not gonna drop me?”

It’s been a long time since I’ve even slipped on the ice but accidents can happen at any time. I brace my legs and tilt her head back with my palm, looking down at her beautiful face.

“Fallon, I would never let you fall. If there’s even the slightest chance that we’re going down, I promise you that you’ll be the one on top.”

“You promise?” she asks me, and I grip one of her wrists, pulling it away from my shoulders so that it’s nestled right between my pecs. I unleash my own hand from the back of her neck and then lock my pinkie tight around hers, savouring the way that her body relaxes further into mine.

“I promise.”

She nods her head but I can tell that she’s still nervous. I carefully push off from my position and drag her hips higher up my front.

“Wrap your legs around my waist,” I instruct her, and she does what she’s told, her arm still compressed securely against my chest. She flattens her palm against one of my pecs and then looks over her shoulder so that she can watch as we glide.

“I should’ve asked before I got you up on here,” I murmur, pissed at myself.

“I’m being a little baby,” she whispers back, cute and teasing, but there’s a tremor in her voice that has my heart clenching painfully.

“Why’d you think that I was gonna drop you? You’re a cheerleader. Surely you–”

And then this time I pause on the ice for another reason entirely. The memory of her down on her ass as she scowled up at me in the sports building over a month ago.

If I end up getting another concussion I am seriously going to lose my shit.

“Did someone drop you?” I suddenly ask her, leaning back so that I can look deep into her eyes. “Did one of your teammates drop you?”

She tries to hide her face but I get a hold of her chin so that she has no choice but to give me that stubborn pout. “I don’t want to talk about it right now,” she whispers sulkily.

Someone fucking dropped her? That’s how she got a concussion?

Wait. That’s how she got multiple concussions?

“Fallon–”

She presses her lips to mine and the whole world instantly stops. She’s warm and tiny and soft, and tasting so sweet that I groan against her mouth. I moan her name as I take us to the edge of the rink, trailing kisses down her cheek and inhaling her deeply.

“Good fuckin’ distraction,” I murmur against her neck and a light laugh shakes her body, a small smile in her voice.

“I’ll tell you everything at your party,” she whispers, and relief settles low in my body.

She’s coming to my place. I’m going to see her again.

“Thank you,” I murmur, both of my palms roaming upwards until I’m holding the soft mounds of her ass. I pull back with hazy eyes, looking down at her lips for another taste.

“Text me your address?” she asks as I press my mouth against hers.

“I’ll pick you up,” I grunt. No way am I having her bail on me.

She shakes her head. “Don’t be silly, you can’t ditch your own party. I’ll have Ash come with me.”

Damn it. I can’t say no when this might help Tanner’s O’Malley situation. I pull away from Fallon’s lips and press a firm kiss against her temple.

“Fine, I’ll text you,” I rumble. “As soon as you’re at the hockey house I want you to text me so that I can come find you.” I think for a moment and add on, “And don’t bring any of your other boyfriends.”

She laughs and then does a mock-sigh. “Fine.”

I skate us to the opening near the exit door and settle her carefully back on regular ground. Watching her slide those long legs from their vice-grip around my abs is going to be playing on repeat while I beat one out in the shower tonight.

Not ready to stop touching her yet I grab her waist again and lean down for another kiss.

“Sorry for freaking out on the ice,” she whispers.

I shake my head. “I was an asshole for bringing you on it without asking.”

“No, that was cute, I swear. I would… like to learn how to skate. With you.”

I shove one of my hands through my hair, loving that idea so damn much.

I also mentally add the visual of one-on-one skating lessons with Fallon to my shower playlist.

“I’ll teach you,” I rasp.

Fallon beams, wiggles out of my grip, and then leaves me staring after her perfect ass.

“I’ll text you,” I call out to her, wishing that her beautiful thighs were still wrapped around my middle.

She flashes me one more smile and then disappears through the exit.