6. Alex

The fluorescent lightflickers overhead as I squint at the screen, rewinding and replaying the same sequence for the hundredth time. The Blizzards' defense crumples under the onslaught of the opposing team's offensive line. Pucks slide into our net with sickening thuds.

Dammit.

I pound my fist on the desk, making the keyboard jump. The bitter sting of that playoff loss still burns in my chest, even months later. I should've prepared the guys better, drilled them harder.

This season has to be different.

It will be different, even if I have to whip every single player into shape myself.

As I scribble furious notes, I can't stop my mind from drifting to the encounter earlier today. That new social media girl, Emma. The instant spark when our hands touched. Those striking blue eyes boring into me, seeing straight to my soul.

The way that dress hugged her lush curves in all the right places.

My cock twitches as I imagine peeling that tight dress off her body, exposing her smooth flesh inch by aching inch. I picture her squirming under me, panting and begging as I take my sweet time tasting every part of her. Flashes play through my head of her pouty lips wrapped around my thick shaft, her tits bouncing as I pound into her tight heat.

She'd look so good tied to my bed, unable to do anything but receive the merciless pleasure I'd inflict on her writhing body for hours. I'd make her scream my name until she went hoarse. Mark her porcelain skin with bites and bruises so she'd remember who owns her, who makes her come so hard she sees stars.

I palm my hardening erection through my jeans, letting out a low groan. Fuck, what this girl does to me already.

There's just something about her I can't shake, like we've met before. I know I'd remember a body like that. Where do I know her from?

I force myself to rewind the tape again, trying to focus on the plays and not Emma's enticing assets. This team needs my full attention now more than ever. I refuse to let them down again. This is my shot to prove myself, to show everyone I have what it takes to craft champions.

No distractions.

The screen of my phone lights up, Lukas's name flashing insistently. My mind is already drifting back to thoughts of Emma's bright blue eyes and the adorable way she jumped when I entered the video room earlier.

Focus, Ivanov. There's no time for fantasies about some new girl, especially not with all the work still left to do tonight. I've got tapes to review and coaching strategies to plan out before our next practice.

Lukas can wait.

I ignore the buzzing and turn back to my laptop, but a niggling thought tugs at the corner of my mind. It's Friday night—our usual time for grabbing burgers and drinks with Slade. The weekly tradition has been a staple ever since our college hockey days.

I feel a flicker of guilt but push it aside. The guys will understand. They know how driven I am, how much I pour into this team. Hockey always comes first.

A few minutes later, Lukas's name flashes on my screen again. I clench my jaw, annoyance rising in my chest. Lukas is like the brother I never had, but fuck, sometimes the guy can't take a hint.

I'm tempted to power off my phone completely, but then Slade's name appears.

I hesitate, thumb hovering over the screen. Blowing off Lukas is one thing, but Slade… He's not only my best friend but also our team captain. When Slade reaches out, it usually means business.

With a sigh, I accept the call. "Hey man, what's up? I'm kind of swamped here with?—"

"Alex." Slade's voice is firm but tinged with an undercurrent of concern that sets me on edge. "It's almost 10 p.m. You planning on coming out to meet us or what?"

"Shit, is it that late already?" I pinch the bridge of my nose, squeezing my eyes shut. As much as I hate to admit it, Slade has a point. I've been losing all sense of time lately, too caught up in plays and stats and a pair of stunning blue eyes…

Slade clears his throat pointedly. "You can't keep working yourself to the bone like this, Alex. We've been down this road before."

The ghost of old memories makes the hair raise on my arms—running on fumes, popping Adderall just to stay upright on the ice, collapsing from sheer exhaustion. I know I'm toeing a dangerous line, but this team needs me to push myself to the limits if we're going to win this year.

Still, I can't ignore the genuine worry lacing Slade's words. If even my unflappable captain is concerned…

"You're right," I concede with a heavy exhale. "Give me twenty minutes. I'll meet you guys at the usual spot."

After ending the call, I reluctantly shut my laptop and grab my keys. As much as I hate leaving projects unfinished, I have to remind myself that I'm no good to anyone if I run myself into the ground again.

And truthfully, I could use the distraction of good food and better company right about now. Anything to get my mind off the captivating new hire with the dazzling smile that I absolutely cannot pursue.

No matter how tempted I might be.

The restaurant is one of our go-to spots, an upscale burger joint with exposed brick walls, dim Edison bulbs hanging from the ceiling, and plush leather booths that seem to absorb sound.

Lukas, Slade and I slide into our usual corner table, the hostess bringing over a bottle of expensive scotch without us even having to ask. I pour three fingers of the amber liquid into my glass, savoring the smoky burn as it slides down my throat.

"How's Ryan settling in?" I ask Slade. Lukas's expression darkens at the mention of Thompson's name. Guess that wound still hasn't healed.

Slade shrugs. "About as well as can be expected. He's still adjusting to the new team dynamic, but his skills are undeniable, as you know."

"Undeniable?" Lukas scoffs. "Asshole thinks he can waltz in and act like he owns the place, just because he was an important trade."

I take a slow sip of scotch, exchanging a loaded glance with Slade.

We both know this animosity between Lukas and Ryan runs deeper than on-the-ice rivalry. Those two have a messy history. Slade was excited for his old friend to join the team, but it was never going to be an easy ride.

"The team needs you two to get your shit together," Slade says firmly, leveling Lukas with a stern look. "Leave the petty drama in the past where it belongs. This season is too important."

"Yeah, yeah," Lukas grumbles into his glass. "I'll play nice with Thompson."

"Tell him to come see me," I tell Slade. "I want to work on some shot blocking with him before the season starts."

Lukas and Slade chatter on about the upcoming season, debating line changes and scouting reports. I half-listen, my mind still churning with thoughts of game tape and drills, the never-ending quest for perfection.

But then I hear a name that snaps my focus back to the present.

"Emma and I keep playing this cat and mouse game," Lukas says with a smirk, picking up a truffle fry. "I must've bumped into her half a dozen times this week. She's always so buttoned-up and professional. But man, I can't stop thinking about how sexy she looked last weekend in that little blue dress. What I wouldn't give to rip it off her…"

Slade chuckles but shoots Lukas a warning look. "We've talked about this, man. Be careful. We need everyone focused on the team right now, on and off the ice."

I clear my throat and set my glass down with a clink. "I actually met Emma for the first time today. In the video room."

Lukas and Slade both turn to me, eyebrows raised.

"No shit? How was it?" Lukas asks eagerly, leaning forward.

I take another sip of scotch, considering my words. "She's…intriguing. Confident. Whip-smart. And there's something so familiar about her, like I've seen her before somewhere. But I can't quite put my finger on it…"

Trailing off, I shake my head slightly, trying to dislodge the image of Emma's intense blue eyes and the way they lit up when she smiled at me. There's a strange tension coiling in my gut, an unfamiliar sensation when it comes to women.

I'm used to being in control, knowing exactly how to bend them to my will. But with Emma…I have a feeling she's going to be a challenge.

And fuck if that doesn't turn me on even more.

Lukas grins wolfishly. "Well, I call dibs. Saw her first." He points a fry at me. "So paws off, Ivanov."

I snort and shake my head, but inside, something primal is stirring. Lukas may be one of my best friends, but we've gone head to head over women before. And as much as I hate to admit it, I have a feeling Emma Collins may just end up being worth fighting for.

Lukas leans back in the booth, hands behind his head with a smug grin. "Besides, we all know I'm the one with the magic touch when it comes to the ladies. Emma won't know what hit her once I turn on the Dvorak charm."

He winks and I feel my jaw clench, knuckles whitening around my glass.

Rationally, I know Lukas is just being his usual cocky self, flirting and bragging like breathing. But the caveman part of my brain is snarling at the thought of his hands on Emma's creamy skin, his lips tasting what I've barely even had a chance to covet...

"Careful, Casanova," Slade cuts in, his quiet voice a splash of cold water. "Last thing we need is drama fucking with our dynamic, on or off the ice."

"Psshh, I can handle it," Lukas scoffs, waving a dismissive hand. But I see the considering look he slides my way, and I know, right then, that the game is on.

Slamming back the rest of my scotch, I thunk the empty glass on the table harder than necessary. The smoky burn chases away the lingering sweetness of Emma's scent in my nostrils. For now.

I'll be damned if I let Lukas fucking Dvorak swoop in and steal the most intriguing woman I've met in years right from under me. He may be my friend, my brother even.

But when it comes to winning, I don't play nice.

My mind's already spinning, strategizing my next move as I motion for another drink. I prefer my women willing and pliant, eager to submit to my darkest desires. I've never had to put in much actual effort, my natural dominance and ability to read them like well-worn playbooks serving me well.

Something tells me Emma will be different. Complicated. She won't be so easily mastered.

But as I catch Lukas's gloating smirk from across the table, I feel my own lips curving in anticipation. He may be the master of casual flirtation and empty charm.

When it comes to the long game, the slow seduction and the inevitable, soul-shaking climax? There, I reign supreme.

And one way or another, I will have Emma Collins in my bed. On her knees. Begging me for more even as I push her past the brink.

Looking my brother dead in the eye, I clink my fresh glass against his in a wordless toast.

Let the best man win.