On Thin Ice Read online

  On Thin Ice

  Piper Rayne

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  © 2018 by Piper Rayne

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

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  Cover design: RBA Designs

  Line Editor: Love N Books

  Proof Reader: Shawna Gavas, Behind The Writer

  Contents

  Free Download

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Epilogue

  Cockamamie Unicorn Ramblings

  About Piper & Rayne

  Also by Piper Rayne

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  * * *

  To all the men who make us laugh.

  * * *

  Note to Readers: We used Winter Classics instead of the trademarked names Winter Games and/or Olympics. We did take a few creative liberties as well.

  Chapter One

  “It’s duet night?” I ask the guy running the karaoke at the bar.

  He nods, his attention fixed on the song requests in front of him.

  “As in I have to find a woman to sing with?”

  Now, anyone who knows me knows I won't have any trouble finding a sing mate, but I want to sing my usual “You Shook Me All Night Long” by AC/DC. That's how I get the women in the first place.

  He clicks a few buttons with his mouse. “Sorry, come back tomorrow,” he says in his Korean accent. A couple approaches the podium and he shifts his attention their way.

  Shaking my head, I sit back down at the table with my friends.

  “Why so glum?” Skylar puts a pouty face on like I'm two and scratched my knee.

  “It’s fucking duet night,” I say.

  “Oh,” Mia whips her head in Grady's direction. “Let's sing.”

  Grady eyes Beckett, blowing out a breath. What, did he think he would do it for him?

  “I prefer to watch,” Grady says.

  Mia tugs at his shirt, placing her head on his shoulder and batting her eyes. “Please.”

  He stares down at her and we could poll this entire table on whether or not Grady will agree and they’ll all say the same thing. He will. Grady's totally pussy whipped at the moment.

  “Fine.” Grady stands and holds his hand out for Mia.

  “YAY!” she screams, plucking her phone from the table. “I have to find the perfect song for us first.”

  The two of them disappear, leaving me with Ross and Rachel, aka Beckett and Skylar.

  “Fucking asshole.”

  Oh yeah, and Demi, the girl who gives me death stares on the daily. She’s currently directing that talent down at the phone in her hands.

  “What's the matter?” Skylar bends forward on the table toward her friend.

  This should be good. Everything in Demi's life is sooo dramatic. I lean back and sip my beer.

  Focusing my attention around the room, I notice that the small space is filled with men and women cuddled up to each other. Then I look at our table.

  Six people. Three girls. Three guys. Hmm...

  “Is it fuckin’ couple’s night?” I interrupt. My bad mood over how my practice runs have been going since we arrived—shitty, in case you were wondering—seems to be affecting my mood tonight.

  Classic Demi death stare commences.

  “No.” Beckett answers. I'm sure he really doesn't give a shit what's up with Drama Demi.

  “Look around.” I gesture with my arm to the room around us and Beckett’s gaze follows.

  “Well, we're not a couple.” He actually points between him and Skylar.

  “Sometimes I wonder how you can see the tracks.” I shake my head.

  His eyebrows scrunch. Seriously, never in my life have I met anyone so blind. I mean, look next to you, dude. I get if he doesn't want a relationship, but he's practically in one. The last time I saw either one of them date anyone else was over a year ago and that was short lived.

  “Next up is Grady and Mia,” the announcer says over the speaker and we all turn toward the stage.

  Grady stands there while Mia bounces up and down, smiling down at her friends.

  “Go, Rogue!” I scream except he's not really living up to his nickname right now.

  The song starts and beer flies out of Demi's mouth. Skylar starts laughing while I hand a napkin to Demi who seems to be over whatever pissed her off a minute ago as she and Skylar dance in their chairs while watching Grady and Mia sing, “Don't Go Breaking My Heart” by Elton John.

  I lean back in my chair, smiling because Mia is belting out the song, dancing around Grady as he stands there, singing the lines in a monotone voice. He can't even look at Beckett or me.

  “We should be taping this shit,” Beckett says, pulling out his phone.

  Skylar looks over at her ‘friend.’ “Let's go next.”

  Beckett smiles and nods. “You pick the song.”

  Of course, he's the only guy I know who would be excited about singing a duet.

  Grady and Mia's song fades, and Mia rises on her tiptoes pulling Grady's face to her lips.

  “Thank you,” she murmurs and his face lights up. After handing both microphones to the guy, he grabs her hips and hoists her up into his arms.

  The two kiss the entire time they’re coming off stage. At least he's going to get laid later for singing.

  “Let's go.” Skylar jumps up, grabbing Beckett's hand.

  “Way to go, guys!” Demi claps, giving a high five to each of them.

  “Yeah, great job, Grady. You didn’t seem to be having as much fun as Mia,” I point out.

  He rolls his eyes. “I don't see your ass up there.” He sits down and takes a large swig of his beer.

  “I have no one to sing with.”

  Mia's eyes shift and if I had time, I'd reach across and put my hand over her mouth.

  “Demi. You two sing together.”

  Demi says nothing.

  “I thought she had some hot boyfriend,” I say to Mia.

  Demi's been raving about some guy she met all night—what a gentleman he is and how he's so considerate. He skis for the French team. As far as I’m concerned, he's the fucking enemy, but whatever.

  Demi lifts her phone. “Guess not.”

  So, that was the bad news.

  “What, he likes brie and you don't?” I smirk.

  I think that’s the fifteenth death glare she’s given me tonight.

  “Actually.” She leans back, crossing her arms over her chest.

  Damn it, her tits are so fucking perfect. The memory of motorboating them last Winter Classics surfaces as clear as glass in my mind. Wouldn't mind doing it again, except she hates me now.

  “You two have a lot in common, Dax,” Demi snips. “According to his text, he'd like to take the games as a break—aka screw every female he can.”

  “Ah, assumptions and stereotypes.” I down another g
ulp of my beer.

  “All the more reason you two should do one,” Mia urges.

  I'll take Demi’s silence as a no. Whatever, there's gotta be a single girl here who wants to sing with the hottest guy in the room.

  “Beckett and Skylar are up,” the announcer says into the microphone.

  The two are all smiles. Beckett's line is first and he's dancing, his shoulders moving up and down as the two walk in circles around each other and pretend to be Estelle and Kanye West singing “American Boy.”

  “Look at Beckett, he's totally into it,” Mia says to Demi, sliding onto Skylar's seat to get closer.

  The two are cute. Like sugar-coated candy store cute.

  I finish my beer and slide it to the middle of the table. Since I capped myself at two drinks tonight, I'm on to water from here on out.

  The girl’s heads are bobbing to the beat and they start singing along with Skylar in their seats. Then Mia stands, rounds the chair and starts singing American Boy to Grady. The guy can't even fight the smile on his face.

  The song ends, and Skylar jumps into Beckett's arms.

  “So much fun!” she screams as he lowers her to the floor and they find their seats.

  “Looks like you two are next?” Beckett waggles his eyebrows.

  I look around the room to find someone else who didn't know this was couples’ night.

  “That fucking asshole.” Demi's gaze is set on the door.

  A guy stands there with a girl hanging off him. Short skirt, tight shirt, overly made-up face and a bottle of hairspray holding up her hair.

  “Is that him?” Skylar asks, peeking around Beckett to get a better view.

  “Yeah. Guess he sent the text right before he picked up his date.”

  His eyes sweep the room. He's probably checking out who else is here, in case the chick on his arm doesn't pan out.

  Demi stares down at her drink, picking at her beer label looking glum and uncertain.

  Fuck this.

  The legs of my chair scrape across the floor. “Let's go.”

  Mia and Skylar smile over at me, and Skylar nudges her to go.

  “No. I'm not singing. Especially in front of him,” Demi says.

  “Listen. I'm a more than a suitable stand-in. Show him what he's missing out on.” I keep my hand outstretched.

  She looks to the table, taking a silent poll from her friends. Then she stands up and takes my hand.

  On the way up to the small stage, I swing my arm over her shoulders. She immediately tries to circle out. “You have to act like you’re into it,” I whisper to her.

  She stops trying to flee.

  “You found someone.” The karaoke guy looks surprised. Maybe I should strip my shirt off, so he can see exactly what I have to offer the female species.

  “’Promiscuous,’ by Nelly Furtado,” I tell him.

  Demi huffs, her mouth hanging open.

  I wink because there's no halfway with me. We're going all the way on this one.

  Chapter Two

  We step up on the stage, the colored lights flashing down on us. I never realized how hard it is to see the people down at the tables.

  I step forward and motion for one of the guys sitting at the table closest to us to pass me the empty chair beside him. He does, and I place it in the middle of the stage, then guide Demi to sit down.

  Giving a thumbs-up to the guy running the show, I grab one mic as the song starts and I approach Demi as I sing the words. I figure I may be the only one all in, but she surprises me and stands up when the girl's part comes on and stands chest to chest with me while I hold the mic near her lips.

  Her hands slide down her sides as she lowers to the ground and back up. I grind my crotch into her as she lays her head on my shoulder, singing into the microphone. My dick twitches when she pushes me into the chair and then she bends over, looking at me through her legs as I sing my part. Slowly, her body twists up and down. I walk up behind her, circling my hips as I get near.

  She places her index finger in her mouth and bites down on it. When it shifts back to her part, I hold the mic in front of her again while her hands land on my chest, running up and down. All the blood in my body pools between my legs.

  Shit, my dick needs to understand the halfway mark. I know we usually do everything full throttle, but he's not getting any satisfaction tonight. And no way do I want to be standing up here on stage in front of everyone sporting wood like I’m some thirteen-year-old kid.

  By the time the song is over, I'm so charged up I could probably come with one stroke of my hand. Demi hugs me, and I do the old junior high move, keeping space between our genitals. On the slow pull back, her gorgeous green eyes looking at me with curiosity.

  “Yeah.” I back up, handing the microphone to the guy.

  “Sorry,” she snickers, covering her mouth, obviously I’ve lost some stealth moves since junior high.

  “Whatever.”

  We hop off the stage and none of our friends have their arms up to give us a high five. They're all sitting there with wide eyes and their mouths practically hanging open.

  “Good job,” Mia says.

  “You need to head to the bathroom,” Grady laughs, glancing down at my crotch with a knowing look. Mia slaps him on the stomach. “What? That was fucking hot shit. Next time we're doing that song.”

  “Will you actually participate?” Mia rolls her eyes.

  “If you're grinding on me like that, hell yeah.” Grady tips his beer and winks at me.

  I can't complain, the girl didn't even give me a full lap dance, yet I want to dig out my cash and make dollar bills rain.

  “I need a drink.” Without waiting for anyone to respond, I head to the bar. “Double whiskey.” The bartender grabs the bottle while simultaneously palming a glass. “Shit...no... water.” Alcohol would make this situation worse and I need to adhere to my training. Two drink maximum per night.

  The bartender is nice enough to unscrew the top of the water bottle, and I drink the cold water down my throat. I crush the plastic bottle and set it on the bar, placing some South Korean won on table.

  “Nice dancing, Campbell,” the guy Demi was dating says in his stupid French accent as he leads the girl he brought to a table with his hand on her back.

  “What can I say, she knows where to find the good stuff.”

  His hand leaves the girl’s back and he twists back around, stepping up to me. I stand in place, not at all intimidated by anyone, much less this skinny prick.

  “You're sloppy seconds.” The arrogant prick looks me up and down.

  I exaggerate a clutched over belly-holding laugh and then pop back up, straight-faced. “You should really get your facts straight.” I search to make sure Demi is nowhere around and inch forward until my lips are right by his ear. “She’s back for the good stuff.”

  Now I know I'm full of shit, but this jackass doesn't. All he knows is she was grinding me up on stage moments ago. And the way he so easily tossed Demi aside when they were dating irritates me.

  He shoots me a cocky grin. “You're no better than me. I've heard the rumors.” Funny he says that when he has no idea that at the last Winter Classics, it was well known that Demi and I were messing around.

  “You missed out on something good with Demi,” I say.

  He glances over my shoulder and I don't have to turn around. I can already feel her there. Reaching my hand back, I find hers and link our fingers, pulling her forward.

  Demi remains silent but doesn't pull away from my side. Unlinking our hands, I possessively place my hand on her hip, my thumb rubbing along the open space between her jeans and shirt.

  His eyes shoot to the motion and just to be sure he's aware that he fucked over the wrong girl, I place my lips just below her ear, my lips casting small kisses on her soft skin.

  Demi being the rock star actress she is, she leans in and she must really be trying to convince this guy that he didn't fracture her heart an hour ago, because she's closi
ng her eyes, reveling in my affection.

  “Whatever, Demi. We were never serious,” he mumbles.

  “Whatever, Julien. Does it look like I care?” she rasps in a sexy, throaty voice.

  My lips travel up the shallow of her throat and I twist her so we're flush against one another. Her head falls between her shoulder blades and I make my way up past her jaw until my lips are millimeters from hers. Frenchie is still standing there—he must be into voyeurism or some shit. Not that I mind having Demi in my arms again. I’d forgotten how her body just kind of fit with mine.

  Going for what could be a ball cracking move if she objects, I allow my lips to land on hers. I’m tentative at first, just in case I need to make a quick getaway. But she doesn't pull away. Instead, it's her tongue licking against the seam of my lips. Her breasts push against my chest, and she rises on her tiptoes to get closer.

  My tongue seeks hers and once they slide along together, a burst of something erupts in my stomach. I don’t know what the feeling was, but my hand finds its way to the back of her head because the last thing I can handle right now is her stopping this fake kiss.

  A small moan escapes her parted lips and I desperately want to know if she's acting or if I actually illicit that sound from her, because damn if I don't want to groan and lay her down on the table, not caring who’s watching us.

  Just when I'm about to suggest we head back to the village, she pulls back, covering her mouth and looking to where Julien was moments ago, but the space is empty. She looks around the room, searching, but it seems like he left, which is what we wanted right?