Ice Games
Page 25
“Damn,” he said with a shake of his head. “When you flame out, you flame out good.”
“So what about you?”
“What about me?” He grinned and refilled my sake shotglass. “Don’t tell me after selecting Jaws for our theme music that you really have to ask what I did?”
“Well, no.” I watched him fill his own shot, then down it. “I saw a video of what happened. It was pretty brutal.”
“Mixed martial arts is a pretty brutal sport overall. That’s one of the things I like about it.”
“I guess I really just wanted to know why,” I began, but trailed off when the waiter arrived to take our orders. My head swimming from the alcohol, I barely glanced at the menu before going with simple—a tuna roll. Ty ordered four kinds of sashimi and a vegetable roll. For some reason, that tickled my funny bone, and I laughed again. “Hungry?”
“Starving, but I’m going to make you try some of it, too.” He wiggled his eyebrows at me and leaned in. “Even if I have to feed it to you.”
I flushed hot, the mental image of that suggestion sweeping through my mind and doing all kinds of crazy things to my body. Distracting. Which was probably on purpose, now that I thought about it. “Don’t change the subject. I spilled my guts. Your turn to do the same.”
“I’m not changing the subject,” he said, and he leaned back, watching me with a contemplative look on his face. “As far as how that went…well. The guy was an old enemy of mine. Never liked him. Blowhard, rough with his girlfriend out of the ring, just an all-around asshole. He was talking a lot of shit before the fight, and it pissed me off. Like a constant stream of garbage.” Ty shook his head. “Then we got in the ring, and he’s pulling all these dirty moves. Fish hooking, rabbit kicking me, heel kicking my kidneys, you name it. And they didn’t call any of it. Fucking pissed me off. He’s making foul after foul and the ref isn’t calling any of it.” His jaw tightened. “Then he stomped me in the nuts, and I lost my shit. Got furious as hell. Saw nothing but red. So when they called the fight…” He shrugged. “I wasn’t done fighting. The ref tried to pull me off of him, so I punched the ref, too, because he was making shitty calls.”
“And then you bit the other guy,” I said. Seemed like I wasn’t the only one with bad impulse control.
He rubbed a hand down his face. “Fucking stupid-ass move. You ever have one of those moments in your life where you can’t believe you did something so stupid? And how you pretty much fucked up everything and threw it all away in one hotheaded moment?”
“No,” I said sarcastically. “Tell me what that’s like.”
Ty chuckled. “Right. Forgot who I was talking to. Yeah. It was the stupidest thing ever. I was just so pissed off I couldn’t see straight. I think I was more pissed at the ref than at my opponent, but I took it out on the guy I was fighting. Well, mostly. Turned out I bit off a huge chunk of his nose.” He grimaced and glanced down at his sake glass. “It was horrifying. I’m still sick that I did it. I paid for his plastic surgery, but it wasn’t enough. It’ll never be enough.”
I knew that feeling. That moment that you realized you were a complete and total fuck up. That you’d gotten so arrogant and so complacent about who you were that let you let it all go to shit because your pride got in the way. And no matter how much you regretted it—an hour later, a week later, a month later—you couldn’t take it back.
Ty and I were more alike than I’d thought.
“No,” I said softly. “I know exactly what you mean.”
He downed his shot and shrugged his shoulders. “I can’t take it back, so I’m just working on being a dancing monkey in the hopes that I can repair my image a little. After all, they eventually let Tyson back in the ring, right?”
“Did they?” I didn’t know anything about that. “What happens if they don’t let you fight again?”
He gave me a blank look. “I honestly don’t know. I never had a backup plan.”
“Me either. That’s how I ended up being a dinosaur on skates.”
He grimaced. “Point made. Guess I’ll have to think of something, just in case.”
I crossed my arms and leaned in on the table, feeling deliciously languid and warm. Alcohol was pretty awesome so far. Why had I avoided it until now? “What do you like to do besides fight?”
He gave me a lazy look. “Fuck?”
“See, there you go. You can start a second career in porn.”
“I don’t think so. Those girls aren’t my type.” His eyes glittered as they focused on me.
I sat up straight, suddenly feeling…flushed. And hopeful. “So what is your type? I know it’s not a stick with a mouth.”
“I never said that.”
I blinked, a blush creeping up my cheeks. “So what is your type?”
He scooted a bit closer to me in the booth. Marginally closer. Maybe I’d imagined it. But his gaze was on me, flicking from my face to my neck, then back to my face again. “I like them a bit more creative,” he murmured, his voice so low I barely caught the words.
“I’m sure there are some creative types in porn,” I began, but the words died in my throat when he scooted even closer to me.
“You know what I mean. And driven. I like girls with drive. And I like athletes. I don’t even mind if they’re high strung.”
By now he was sitting so close to me that I could see the details of that little scar in his brow, the sexy dip in the center of his upper lip, and his long, long eyelashes. I was frozen in place, unable to scoot away—and not really wanting to. What was Ty going to do? I’d been closer to him on several of our skate embraces, but this felt like the most intimate thing ever.
He leaned in, and his mouth ever so slightly grazed mine.
I sucked in a breath, and in doing so, breathed him in. He tasted of sake and a unique flavor that I could describe as nothing more than ‘Ty.’ My lips parted, and he kissed me again, his mouth moving over mine in a kiss that rapidly deepened.
I froze in place, not sure how to respond. Ty Randall was kissing me. Sexy, dangerous, gorgeous Ty Randall was kissing the stick with a mouth. Was it just the sake talking? I didn’t know how to react.
“Zara,” he murmured against my lips, and his thumb touched my chin, angling my mouth open a bit more. His tongue swept inside my parted mouth.
I moaned against him, caught up in the sensations. God, Ty was an incredible kisser. His tongue slicked against my own, flicking and teasing. My entire body went wild with sensation, my nipples hardening. I leaned into the kiss, curling up against him as he pulled me even closer to him. Under the table, his hand grasped one of my legs and pulled it over his own, his big hand clenching on the inside of my thigh, anchoring me in an intimate embrace.
He made a pleased sound in the back of his throat as I gave in to him, and the kiss grew deeper, Ty’s tongue thrusting into my mouth in a way that made me wet between my legs and hot all over.
“Zara,” he murmured again, breaking the kiss. “Let’s forget about dinner and go home.” His hand flexed on my inner thigh, reminding me precisely of where it was.
“So what about you?”
“What about me?” He grinned and refilled my sake shotglass. “Don’t tell me after selecting Jaws for our theme music that you really have to ask what I did?”
“Well, no.” I watched him fill his own shot, then down it. “I saw a video of what happened. It was pretty brutal.”
“Mixed martial arts is a pretty brutal sport overall. That’s one of the things I like about it.”
“I guess I really just wanted to know why,” I began, but trailed off when the waiter arrived to take our orders. My head swimming from the alcohol, I barely glanced at the menu before going with simple—a tuna roll. Ty ordered four kinds of sashimi and a vegetable roll. For some reason, that tickled my funny bone, and I laughed again. “Hungry?”
“Starving, but I’m going to make you try some of it, too.” He wiggled his eyebrows at me and leaned in. “Even if I have to feed it to you.”
I flushed hot, the mental image of that suggestion sweeping through my mind and doing all kinds of crazy things to my body. Distracting. Which was probably on purpose, now that I thought about it. “Don’t change the subject. I spilled my guts. Your turn to do the same.”
“I’m not changing the subject,” he said, and he leaned back, watching me with a contemplative look on his face. “As far as how that went…well. The guy was an old enemy of mine. Never liked him. Blowhard, rough with his girlfriend out of the ring, just an all-around asshole. He was talking a lot of shit before the fight, and it pissed me off. Like a constant stream of garbage.” Ty shook his head. “Then we got in the ring, and he’s pulling all these dirty moves. Fish hooking, rabbit kicking me, heel kicking my kidneys, you name it. And they didn’t call any of it. Fucking pissed me off. He’s making foul after foul and the ref isn’t calling any of it.” His jaw tightened. “Then he stomped me in the nuts, and I lost my shit. Got furious as hell. Saw nothing but red. So when they called the fight…” He shrugged. “I wasn’t done fighting. The ref tried to pull me off of him, so I punched the ref, too, because he was making shitty calls.”
“And then you bit the other guy,” I said. Seemed like I wasn’t the only one with bad impulse control.
He rubbed a hand down his face. “Fucking stupid-ass move. You ever have one of those moments in your life where you can’t believe you did something so stupid? And how you pretty much fucked up everything and threw it all away in one hotheaded moment?”
“No,” I said sarcastically. “Tell me what that’s like.”
Ty chuckled. “Right. Forgot who I was talking to. Yeah. It was the stupidest thing ever. I was just so pissed off I couldn’t see straight. I think I was more pissed at the ref than at my opponent, but I took it out on the guy I was fighting. Well, mostly. Turned out I bit off a huge chunk of his nose.” He grimaced and glanced down at his sake glass. “It was horrifying. I’m still sick that I did it. I paid for his plastic surgery, but it wasn’t enough. It’ll never be enough.”
I knew that feeling. That moment that you realized you were a complete and total fuck up. That you’d gotten so arrogant and so complacent about who you were that let you let it all go to shit because your pride got in the way. And no matter how much you regretted it—an hour later, a week later, a month later—you couldn’t take it back.
Ty and I were more alike than I’d thought.
“No,” I said softly. “I know exactly what you mean.”
He downed his shot and shrugged his shoulders. “I can’t take it back, so I’m just working on being a dancing monkey in the hopes that I can repair my image a little. After all, they eventually let Tyson back in the ring, right?”
“Did they?” I didn’t know anything about that. “What happens if they don’t let you fight again?”
He gave me a blank look. “I honestly don’t know. I never had a backup plan.”
“Me either. That’s how I ended up being a dinosaur on skates.”
He grimaced. “Point made. Guess I’ll have to think of something, just in case.”
I crossed my arms and leaned in on the table, feeling deliciously languid and warm. Alcohol was pretty awesome so far. Why had I avoided it until now? “What do you like to do besides fight?”
He gave me a lazy look. “Fuck?”
“See, there you go. You can start a second career in porn.”
“I don’t think so. Those girls aren’t my type.” His eyes glittered as they focused on me.
I sat up straight, suddenly feeling…flushed. And hopeful. “So what is your type? I know it’s not a stick with a mouth.”
“I never said that.”
I blinked, a blush creeping up my cheeks. “So what is your type?”
He scooted a bit closer to me in the booth. Marginally closer. Maybe I’d imagined it. But his gaze was on me, flicking from my face to my neck, then back to my face again. “I like them a bit more creative,” he murmured, his voice so low I barely caught the words.
“I’m sure there are some creative types in porn,” I began, but the words died in my throat when he scooted even closer to me.
“You know what I mean. And driven. I like girls with drive. And I like athletes. I don’t even mind if they’re high strung.”
By now he was sitting so close to me that I could see the details of that little scar in his brow, the sexy dip in the center of his upper lip, and his long, long eyelashes. I was frozen in place, unable to scoot away—and not really wanting to. What was Ty going to do? I’d been closer to him on several of our skate embraces, but this felt like the most intimate thing ever.
He leaned in, and his mouth ever so slightly grazed mine.
I sucked in a breath, and in doing so, breathed him in. He tasted of sake and a unique flavor that I could describe as nothing more than ‘Ty.’ My lips parted, and he kissed me again, his mouth moving over mine in a kiss that rapidly deepened.
I froze in place, not sure how to respond. Ty Randall was kissing me. Sexy, dangerous, gorgeous Ty Randall was kissing the stick with a mouth. Was it just the sake talking? I didn’t know how to react.
“Zara,” he murmured against my lips, and his thumb touched my chin, angling my mouth open a bit more. His tongue swept inside my parted mouth.
I moaned against him, caught up in the sensations. God, Ty was an incredible kisser. His tongue slicked against my own, flicking and teasing. My entire body went wild with sensation, my nipples hardening. I leaned into the kiss, curling up against him as he pulled me even closer to him. Under the table, his hand grasped one of my legs and pulled it over his own, his big hand clenching on the inside of my thigh, anchoring me in an intimate embrace.
He made a pleased sound in the back of his throat as I gave in to him, and the kiss grew deeper, Ty’s tongue thrusting into my mouth in a way that made me wet between my legs and hot all over.
“Zara,” he murmured again, breaking the kiss. “Let’s forget about dinner and go home.” His hand flexed on my inner thigh, reminding me precisely of where it was.
