Body Checked (Center Ice Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

whistling something to himself. It takes me a minute to recognize it as Tchaikovsky—his first piano concerto, all bold brassy chords and delicate, breezy piano trills, like lovers basking in a golden meadow. I blush all over again. No matter what Sergei says, I know we’re not lovers. That this can’t be anything more than a one-night fling—for either of us. I’ve got my schoolwork to finish and my internship, and he’s got—well, he’s got hundreds of women throwing themselves at him every night. He doesn’t want or need someone like me.
    Whoever the hell I am.
    Sergei struts back toward me from the kitchen in the doorway and pauses. “My sponsorship deal says I have to be seen drinking this, so . . . watch closely.”
    He grins, and raises some neon purple power drink bottle to his lips and chugs it down. I laugh and clap for him, though my attention is elsewhere. Like the perfect indentation of his calves, the flawless curve of his thighs, the brilliant V of his lower abs, and, yes, the fact that even soft he’s still incredibly well-hung. His throat ripples with each swallow. He finishes the entire bottle, wipes his mouth on the back of his arm, and takes a goofy bow for me.
    “Here. Catch.” Sergei tosses me a bottle of water, and I catch it and screw it open.
    Sergei stays propped against the doorframe, watching me at first, but then I see his gaze drift—toward the chandelier, the elaborate crown moulding, the marble fireplace on the opposite wall. He sighs, lopes toward me, and plops down beside me on the rug. “It’s too big, isn’t it?”
    “Please tell me you’re not talking about your dick.”
    He grins and nips at my cheek. “This house.” Despite the grin, his tone has gone softer.
    I trace one finger along the ridge of his spine. “It’s huge. But it’s not the ten-thousand-square-foot monstrosities the Washington football players live in, either.”
    “I guess so.” His eyes glimmer in the chandelier light. “And do you live in a monstrosity?”
    My hand falls away from his back. Carefully, I bring my knees up under my chin and wrap my arms around my legs. “Not anymore.”
    Sergei’s quiet for a minute. I feel so stupid for telling him that. He doesn’t want to hear about my money troubles, and he certainly doesn’t need to hear about the life I used to have with Todd. I don’t need him thinking I’m some gold digger looking to cling to him and bleed him dry. This is just temporary, I tell myself over and over. Enjoy the moment while it lasts, and disappear into the night.
    “We had nothing, growing up,” Sergei says at last. “It was just my mother, my brother, and me. She lost all her savings in the crashes during the Yeltsin years.”
    “I’m so sorry.” My parents left Brazil right before I was born for much the same reason. Too much instability. Too much uncertainty. Mama said the whole world felt like a sandcastle, slowly getting eaten away by the sea. But I don’t feel like sharing that with Sergei right now.
    “I promised them both that I’d make it big someday. That I’d be a bigger name in hockey than Vyacheslav Kozlov. Than Wayne Gretzky, even.” He rolls onto his back and props his hands behind his head. “But it wasn’t enough for my older brother. He’d only gotten a taste of capitalism before we lost everything, and he wanted more.”
    “But you made it big,” I say. “You kept your promise to your mom.”
    Sergei closes his eyes. “It was too late.”
    I swallow hard. What the hell do I say to that? “I’m so sorry,” I whisper. “I’m sure she’d be very proud of you for all you’ve accomplished.”
    He doesn’t answer.
    I hold my breath, wondering if I’ve pissed him off. But then I notice the slow, rhythmic rise and fall of his chest; the faint rush of air in and out of his nose. He’s out cold.
    Well, he’s had quite the night, and I can’t even pretend I was a major part of that. Three goals for his stateside debut and a