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I don’t owe her shit, and like hell am I going to be the one to explain what happened. If she thinks I’m that kind of guy, then she clearly doesn’t know me at all. She can live in her little world where she thinks she’s always right.

Trouble is, she’s ruined me.

From the moment I kissed her in Riley’s, sparks flew. No one, not even Lauren, had anything on that hour we shared. Her in my jersey, sitting across my lap, my cock so fucking hard I could’ve fucked her through my dress pants. Yeah, I suggested we head back to my place, specifically my bed, and yeah, I wanted her. But not as a one-night stand. Fuck no. She owned me from the moment she turned up at the game wearing my name and number, and she’s owned me ever since.

From the moment she slid off my lap and told me to go fuck myself, things have never been the same. I’ve never been the same. Every woman I’ve slept with has been Kate in my head. They could be brunette, but in my mind, they’re blonde. As they take my dick into their mouths, all I can think about is Kate’s lips wrapped around me.

And then, to add fucking insult to injury, she starts dating another man.

Fucking Tom Bennett.

Pretentious prick. I guess he suits her perfectly.

I yank the faucet off and step out of the shower, wrapping a towel around me as I head to the counter to brush my teeth.

I need to get over this woman, just like she clearly has with me.

We’re part of the same friendship group, so I can’t wipe her from my life, and honestly, I don’t want to; I don’t have it in me. Each time I see her, she looks more stunning than the last, and I want to tell her that every time. I want to tell her that I’ve given up sleeping with other women since it’s pointless. She’s the onlyone I want, the only one my dick wants. But I can’t have her, and I can’t even fuck her out of my system.

I’m fucking obsessed, jealous, angry, and even though she might not see it or care, I’m protective—I’ve kept my distance, but I swear to God, if anyone hurts her, I’ll rip him limb from limb.

How am I supposed to go on like this? I’m fucked up and channeling every ounce of anger into my game. She’ll be there tonight, ignoring me, taunting me, reminding me of all the ways she hates me.

But most of all, she scares the shit out of me with the way she makes me feel—out of control and powerless. Like a puppet being played with or better still, a toy once loved for a brief moment and then cast onto the heap while she moves on to something shinier.

I tell everyone I don’t do commitment or relationships, and that’s the absolute truth.

Because the one fucking woman I want hates me for something I didn’t do, and like hell am I going to grovel.

Jensen Jones does not grovel.

I didn’t grovel for Lauren to come back and marry me instead of running away with my then-best friend, and I’m sure as shit not groveling to Kate Monroe.

Especially when she’s clearly over me and fucking another man.

CHAPTER FOUR

JENSEN

Ipush through the locker room doors, feeling just as nervous as I did this morning. You’d think my body and mind would be used to this kind of pressure after multiple seasons in the NHL, and a Stanley Cup win, but I’m not.

I embrace feeling this way. It’s what makes me feel alive and reminds me that I still have a passion for the game I fell in love with when my dad first took me to our local rink in Alberta.

The key is not to let the nerves overpower the adrenaline.

“Yo!” Jessie Callaghan, my best friend and crazy fast winger fist bumps me as I take a seat at the bench with him.

With the win in New York a couple of days ago and our home-ice advantage from the regular season, we get to play tonight’s pivotal game in front of a Scorpions home crowd, and that’s a huge deal in our bid for the cup.

“Hey, buddy. How you doing?” I dump my kit bag down and take a deep breath, centering myself.

“I’m good. Body feels good, head’s good, and the crowd is already buzzing. We’re on for the cup. I can feel it.”

“Fucking right we are!” Jon, our center and captain, shouts from the opposite side of the locker room. He’s sitting next to our assistant captain and defenseman, Zach Evans. Like true leaders, they’re always the first to arrive and start prepping. Zach looks anxious, and I know it’s a combination of factors, including the fact it’s likely Jon’s last game in his career, and after that, he will take the captaincy over. I’d love to be his assistant captain, but the NHL rules don’t allow for goalies to have a captaincy role for practical purposes, so instead, the badge will go to Henderson, one of our experienced forwards.

One after the other, the boys begin to file into the dressing room, and an unusually heavy silence falls over the group. Normally, it's buzzing with life, but the entire team senses the occasion.

That’s until Coach Burrows swings the door open. Game prep and clipboard in hand, he stands in the center and slowly casts his gaze at us all. “I don’t need to stand here and say any more than what I’ve been saying all season and then again at morning skate. Tonight is historic.”