1. Blake

CHAPTER 1

Blake

Slid right in there. Like me between Elise’s thighs.

I grip my tumbler tighter and concentrate on not crushing it as I remember the taunt hurled at me on the ice earlier tonight as the puck passed me into the net.

It would be just my luck to end up with a sliced-open hand and not able to grip my stick for the next game. Travers would fucking love that.

Plus, this glass probably costs a thousand dollars.

Instead of smashing the tumbler, I lift it to my lips and take a long pull of the expensive whiskey. Then I take a deep breath and look around the room. I’m in a party room on the top floor of a hotel with my entire team after a big win this afternoon over the Dallas Dragons. It’s New Year’s Eve. I should be happy, partying, getting ready to celebrate the start of a new year.

Instead, Justin Fucking Travers is on my mind. More specifically, the woman Justin Travers slept with—is possibly still sleeping with—and the fact that I hate that fucking guy.

Most of the Racketeers, my hockey team, the best in the league and the one that is going to win the championship this year, dammit, hate Justin Travers. For good reason. He’s a cocky son of a bitch, who not only scored their only goal tonight (a fact I can’t shake as the Racketeer’s goalie) but he’s mouthy as hell.

Still, none of them have as good a reason to hate him as I do.

Namely, Elise Starling.

I shouldn’t care that Elise and Justin hooked up.

I don’t care that the gorgeous, sassy brunette with the make-a-grown-man-beg lips and make-a-man-grown-man-weep curves clearly has terrible taste in men.

It’s all about Justin Travers having anything that he thinks I want.

Have Elise and I flirted? Yes.

Have I had a few dirty dreams about her? Of course.

Would I have welcomed her into my bed for a hot night, or even a long steamy weekend? No question.

But I don’t want her. Not to keep. Not for long-term. It’s not like I’m in love with her.

So the fact that Justin keeps bringing up the fact that he’s been with her like she’s some kind of conquest, like he’s won some contest between us, rankles. It’s disrespectful as hell to her.

Plus, I just don’t want Justin Travers to have anything nice or anything that makes him happy. Definitely not any one that I would love to see naked.

“I’m heading out,” Crew McNeill tells us, draining his glass and setting it on the high round table that I’m standing at with him, Alexsei Ryan, and Jack Hayes. “Got a wife and a baby girl to start the new year with.”

“Not to mention our boss and our team doctor,” Alexsei says with a chuckle.

“Yeah, them too.” Crew grins.

McNeill is married to a woman who is married to two other guys. One of them is our team owner, Nathan Armstrong. The other is Michael Hughes, our team physician. Their wife, Danielle, just had their first child, a baby girl, about a week ago. They all live together, of course, and Crew is head over heels for his wife and daughter.

Crew only showed up tonight at the party because he had to. It’s one of the things we do. We’re a team. A family. It’s important we celebrate together, just like it’s important that we come together after losses.

But the amount of time we spend at these celebrations and group pep talks varies. Like the way Armstrong came to the party, made a very short speech, and then left about five minutes later.

Of course, he’s the boss and can do whatever he wants.

Crew at least hung out for the past hour.

“Trust me,” Crew goes on. “We had to talk Dani out of coming tonight. You know she loves these parties with the team. Especially now that Luna comes to all of them too.” He inclines his head toward where his sister is talking with a group of wives and girlfriends.

Alexsei’s face softens and his smile grows as he looks toward Luna. “I love that I can have my people here.”

Luna is Crew’s sister, but she’s Alexsei’s girlfriend.

“Are you sure she’s here with you ?” Jack asks as our assistant coach, Owen Phillips, wraps his arms around Luna from behind and says something in her ear that makes her laugh.

Alexsei grins at us. “I didn’t say I’d be the only one in that storage room having a quickie with her later.”

Yes, Luna is with Owen and Alexsei. And they’re all with Cameron, Alexsei’s best friend and boyfriend.

The poly-relationships are becoming an epidemic around here.

Watching them all happen over the past year has been cool. They’re all having fun, treating each other well, and clearly healthy and happy. I’m happy for them.

These guys are younger than me, but I’d consider them my best friends on the team. Crew and Alexsei are a lot more laid-back and fun than I am, but I can tolerate them for a lot longer and more often than some of the other players. They might seem like goofballs at times, but they’re serious when it comes to hockey. They work their asses off and it always shows on the ice. When McNeill, Ryan, and Hayes are on the ice, we all feel better.

I respect them. That’s what it comes down to. The guys can do whatever they want off the ice and outside the arena, but I haven’t busted my ass for almost ten years, beat my body up to the point that my hip hurts every fucking day, and put off my retirement for another year to just mess around. We came within one game of winning the championship last year and by God, we’re getting that trophy this year.

Then I’m retiring.

“Guess it’s you and me kissing at midnight,” Hayes tells me.

I chuckle and lift my drink again. “No thanks.”

“You got a better offer?” he asks.

“Yes.”

“Who?”

“Literally anyone else,” I tell him with a smirk.

He laughs. “Fuck you.”

“Not that either. But thanks for the offer.”

He laughs harder. “You wish you’d get an offer this good.”

Alexsei is also grinning. “Not the way you swing, Wilder? Not even once in a while?”

I know that Alexsei is with both Luna and Cameron. That’s great for him. He seems completely in love with them both. I lift a shoulder. “Never have. But to each his own.”

“Would you share someone?” Hayes asks. “Like McNeill and Ryan do?”

I think about that. I don’t really like a lot of other people. That’s always been true. I have a very small inner circle and the only social outings I partake in have to do with my hockey team. Since I was recruited by the Racketeers straight out of high school, they’ve been my social circle and my surrogate family all of my adult life. So I don’t know, like, or spend time with many people.

But do I need to like the other guy I share a woman with? Probably not. That’s not what it would be about, right?

It would be about the woman.

Immediately, Elise’s face flashes into my mind. And her body.

I haven’t seen her naked. Much to my disappointment. But I’ve imagined it. I can’t help it. She is exactly my type. Great breasts, round ass, thick thighs, hips I could really sink my fingers into. Those lush lips. Those huge brown eyes. That long dark hair just perfect for wrapping around my fist.

Would I share Elise? Witness her coming absolutely, completely undone at the hands of another man? Be a part of overwhelming her with pleasure and lust?

Yes.

I don’t even have to think about it.

Elise is a strong, bold, independent woman who knows exactly who she is and what she wants. Watching her lose control and come apart would be the hottest fucking thing I can think of.

With anyone but Justin Prick of the Year Travers.

No way did Travers blow her mind, though.

No fucking way.

“Yeah,” I finally answer nonchalantly. “Depends on the girl and the guy, or guys, I suppose, but I don’t have a reason to say no across the board.”

Hayes looks surprised. “No kidding.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“You’re just not very social and that would be…pretty damned social.”

I actually feel myself grin. “Would it though?”

“Let me guess,” Ryan says. “You’re not a big talker, even in bed.”

“Not true,” I tell him. “The things I can talk about in bed happen to be some of my favorite topics.”

McNeill laughs. “So you’re chatty and gregarious in bed? Good to know.”

Gregarious is pushing it. “Let’s put it this way. On my list of top ten favorite things, breasts and pussy make the top two. So yes, I tend to be enthusiastic. And when it comes to talking, I don’t just use the letters STFUATTDLAGG.”

Hayes frowns. “What’s that stand for?”

McNeill and I share a grin. “Google it,” I tell Jack.

“I have to know. What else is in your top ten?” Alexsei asks. “And please don’t say your hair.”

That makes me snort. “Beer, West Wing reruns, sharks, hockey, fishing, donuts, my grandmother, and hammocks. Not necessarily in that order.”

They’re all just looking at me now with varying degrees of surprise and amusement.

“And on that note,” McNeill says. “I’ve gotta go.”

He heads for the elevators and Alexsei beelines for Luna and Owen, leaving Jack and me at the table finishing our drinks.

“I guess my Top Ten was a party buzz kill,” I tell Hayes.

“No shit. Where the hell do we go with sharks and hammocks?” He grins. “You stayin’ til midnight, you sentimental bastard?”

I sigh. That’s still an hour away. I don’t want to. I’m fucking tired.

I’m only twenty-nine, but I don’t recover after games the way I used to. My hip pain that used to only occur every once in a while has been getting more and more frequent and now it’s after every game, in spite of top-notch medical care from the Racketeers physicians and physical therapists.

I really probably should have hung it up after last season, but God, we were so close. I know we’re going to win the championship this year. I’ve got one more season in me.

“Nah,” I say. “I think I’d rather ring in the new year in my hot tub, to be honest.”

Hayes nods. “Then you won’t mind if I ditch you to go talk to the waitress?”

I follow his gaze to the pretty blonde who has been circulating with trays of hors d'oeuvres all night. I had noticed that we had plenty to eat all night. Now I realize she had an ulterior motive.

“Absolutely not. Go for it,” I tell him.

He grins. “Thanks. Happy new year.”

“Happy new year, man.”

I watch him approach the woman and witness her huge smile when he says hi. Wonderful. Hayes will have someone to kiss at midnight after all. I’m going to kiss a bottle of Blanton’s in my hot tub and toast to a championship victory in six months.

My gaze finds Alexsei, Owen, and Luna. Cameron is with them now. I knew he was here somewhere. They’re all laughing together. Alexsei’s hand is resting on Luna’s lower back, and she’s leaning against Owen’s side, his hand on the back of her neck. They look so happy and in love.

Good for them.

I love seeing people happy like that.

It’s not for me. I’ve been married to hockey since I was old enough to slap a puck with a stick.

My love for the game hit early and hit hard and I’ve never had time, energy, or interest in anything else since. My dedication to the game, my travel schedule, the publicity—which includes attention from lots of women—has proven to be too much for the couple of women I have tried dating. And that was a long time ago. They accused me of caring about hockey more than them, and they were right.

Plus, I love being alone. Like love it . The idea of having someone around, in my life, in my decisions, taking up my time, twenty-four seven makes me itchy. Then you add to that their friends and family, social obligations like family dinners, birthdays, vacations…nope. Not for me. I don’t need anyone in my life like that.

My plan after hockey is done is to head to the woods of Minnesota to my family's secluded cabin and to finally become the hermit I’ve always dreamed of being.

I watch as Cameron leans in and kisses Luna. It’s a little strange to see while she’s standing with two other men touching her with clear possessiveness. But it also looks very natural. She reaches up and runs a hand down his face, her smile soft. Then she smiles up at Alexsei as Owen kisses the top of her head.

The four of them look right together. That’s the only way to describe it.

I wonder what Elise is doing tonight. And with who .

I frown. Okay, so Luna is Elise’s friend and boss at the bakery Luna owns and where Elise works part time. That is why I thought of her. Not for any other reason.

Not because of what Travers said to me tonight about sliding between her thighs.

Not because I can’t shake how much I fucking hate that Justin has been with her.

Not because whenever Elise is around I can’t keep my eyes, or thoughts, off of her.

Clearly, she doesn’t even have to be around for me to be thinking of her.

Dammit.

I straighten, look around to see if there’s anyone I need to say goodbye to, decide that no, I’ll see them in a couple of days.

I start for the elevator. No one else is leaving yet, so I’m waiting alone. Which is perfect. The good mood the guys helped me capture is gone. I want to go home, where I can soak my annoyingly painful hip in my hot tub, sip my favorite whiskey, and watch the clock roll past midnight and into my official retirement year.

The doors to the elevator swish open and I start to step forward, only to stop when I realize a couple of late comers are getting off.

Then my brain registers who they are.

It’s Wade, the guy who dresses up as Sammy the Malamute, the Racketeers mascot.

And Elise.

Because of course it is.

She’s dressed in a curve-hugging black dress that leaves her shoulders bare, plunges low in the front, showing off her mouth-watering cleavage, and black heels. Her dark hair is in large curls that fall softly around her shoulders and those lips—the ones that haunt my dreams—are painted crimson.

She looks so fucking gorgeous.

And she’s staring right back at me, those kissable lips parted in surprise.

Slid right in there. Just like me between Elise’s thighs.

Justin Travers’ voice echoes in my head and I growl, stepping forward. I take Elise’s upper arm and step her back into the elevator.

“What the he—” she starts to protest.

“We need to talk,” I tell her, punching the button for the lobby.

I have no idea where we’re going or what exactly I’m going to say. I haven’t spoken to her in months. I’ve never spoken to her one-on-one, but that ends tonight. I have to get her out of my head and, I suppose, this seems like a rational way to do it.

Maybe I just need to hear her say that Travers sucked in bed?

That she is absolutely not still seeing him?

That he treated her well?

Or do I want to know he was a dick to her? That would give me a very good reason to slam his sorry ass into the boards the next time I see him. On the ice or not.

“Uh…”

I glance back at Sammy. I mean Wade. “She’s fine. Go have fun.”

He lifts a brow at Elise and I appreciate the fact that he’s asking her if she’s fine. I look down at her, also awaiting her answer.

This is a little nuts. She doesn’t really know me. If she doesn’t want to be alone with me, I’d understand, I suppose.

She frowns up at me, but then nods. “Yeah, fine.”

“Okay, see ya,” Wade says, ambling off into the party.

The elevator doors slide closed and Elise Starling and I are suddenly alone.

Together.

For the first time.

In a small, enclosed space.

I turn to her. She turns to face me.

“I—” I start.

She just waits.

All I have to do is ask, ‘Are you still dating Justin Travers?’ Or ‘Was Justin amazing in bed?’ Or ‘Did Travers break your heart?’ Any of those would start the conversation that I think I want to have.

I want to know about her and Travers, right? That’s what’s been driving me crazy. That’s what I’ve been wondering about. It’s about my rivalry with that dickhead who is the only Dragon to score on me in the last eight games between the Racketeers and the Dragons.

But when I open my mouth and actually speak, I say, “You look absolutely incredible and you smell amazing.”

Her eyes widen. Mine do too.

That’s what I want to say first?

But…it’s the truth. Suddenly it’s all I can think about.

She’s stunning. Truly. Her hair, her eyes, that damned mouth . My palms are tingly with the need to run over her curves, feel the silkiness of her skin, to see how quickly I can make her catch her breath.

It’s only fair. I don’t feel like I’m breathing too easily.

“Th–Thank you,” she finally stammers softly. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

I step closer. “You didn’t know that I think you’re gorgeous?”

“I…” She wets her lips and shakes her head. “I don’t know.”

I like this. She looks a little ruffled and honestly, the times I’ve been around this woman and we’ve talked, even teased, she’s seemed very confident. I like thinking I can maybe throw her off her game a bit.

I step closer again. Now I feel her body heat and if she takes a very deep breath, her breasts will brush my chest. “I do. I want you to know that. And I think you should also know that I’ve been dying to kiss you since the first time I ever saw you.”

Her eyes widen.

“Are you surprised by that?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “No. I know that you’ve wanted to kiss me.”

Now my eyes widen. “Oh, really?”

“Of course. I’m just surprised you’re saying it. I figured you were going to keep fighting it.” She takes the tiny step that separates us. “For whatever reason you were giving yourself.”

I lift my hand, sliding it into her thick, silky hair. “You think I’ve been fighting it?”

I have. And in that moment, I have no idea why. I know it will come back to me, but with her spicy, citrusy scent drifting up around me, her eyes watching me with heat and a confidence that makes my dick harder than it’s been in a very, very long time, and those lips that I’m going to have to taste before the year is over, I can’t think of anything else.

“You have,” she says softly, her warm breath dancing over my lips.

That’s when I realize I’ve bent over, my mouth just centimeters from hers. I grip her hair and tip her head back.

“Well, I’m done with that,” I tell her.

“You are going to be so pissed at yourself for putting this off,” she says in a breathy promise.

I grin at her sass just before my mouth covers hers.

And just as the elevator jerks to a stop and we’re plunged into darkness.