Whispers on the Ice by Elizabeth Moynihan Read Free Book Online Page A

Aleksei, causing him to look down at the ice particles she threw against his ankles. “I am not a baby!” she stated emphatically, poking his chest sharply to make her point. “I’ve skated since I was four; I hold several titles, I’ve been through more partners than I care to admit and after the last three weeks I refuse to start breaking in a new partner all over again.”
    “You’re sixteen—a baby,” Aleksei repeated, somehow managing to hold his arms at his sides despite his urge to wrap them around her small, shapely form. What was wrong with him? She was just a kid.
    Jordan growled in frustration, ran her hands through her already tussled hair and angrily placed her hands on her hips. “If I wasn’t sixteen, what would your answer be?”
    Against Aleksei’s better judgment, he surrendered to his raging testosterone. The little girl before him certainly didn’t look sixteen, her curvaceous figure and knowing eyes didn’t number her sixteen. Without a word, his hands slid into her hair, his palms carefully, yet firmly held her face as he pulled her mouth to his, his warm tongue pushing determinedly into her mouth and sweetly mating with her own. Surprised at his sudden movement, Jordan’s hands grasped his forearms as their lips met, her nails digging in as Aleksei plundered her mouth. Sound thundered in her ears, blocking out all outside interference, the blood rushing through her body and her own labored breathing was all that reached her.
    As abruptly as he’d pulled her against him, he released her. His hands swiftly moved from her head to her waist to steady her. The only outward sign of any shared passion was the sensual fire burning deep in his dark eyes. “Fine – we’ll give it a try. But don’t ever expect me to bow to the “Ice Queen!” He warned dangerously, releasing her and limping the final distance off the ice.
    Jordan wrapped her arms around herself, hot and cold at the same time. Something had changed between them, she wasn’t sure just what yet but she needed some time to analyze things and regain control. For the moment she was satisfied in simply having the last word and as haughtily as possible stated, “Agreed. Nobody leaves. But you’re still an arrogant bastard, Rocmanov.”
    Aleksei turned, treated her to a brilliant smile and gracefully bowed. “Thank you, your highness. I’ll take that as a compliment.”
    “It wasn’t meant as one.”
    Smugly, and with a look that took her breath away, he answered in the most sensual tone she’d ever heard. “Yes it was!” Without another word, Aleksei limped toward the locker room.
    * * * * *
    Whittaker watched, unknown, from the bleachers, sensed a tentative truce and looked forward to the next battle of wills. They certainly weren’t the calm serenity of Gordeeva and Grinkov but who knew, time could make all the difference in the world. And God knew Aleksei and Jordan looked damn good together.
    It was a start!

CHAPTER 4  
    Aleksei cast occasional glances at Jordan as she worked on the stair-master, grimacing as he turned the page of the People magazine he was reading while he shifted position on the hard folding chair.
    “You’d think Whittaker could have scrounged up a more comfortable chair for me to sit on. I’ve been on this damn thing for eight weeks,” He growled.
    Jordan’s look, a mixture of amusement and disgust, stated clearly that she would trade places with him in a minute. For the last eight weeks, she’d continued her daily regiment, both on and off the ice, alternately wishing she were the one on the cold, hard chair and knowing what lay ahead for Aleksei when the cast came off. The brief stint she’d experienced with a removable cast when she stress fractured her left ankle had side-lined her for three weeks (actually two weeks, three days, but she hedged on the time-frame) had nearly driven her crazy. At least she’d been able to remove the cast and sleep decently. Aleksei, on the other hand,