Page 6

Coach Jacobs’ office smells like old leather and sweat — like every other coach’s office I’ve ever been in.

Except this school’s different. Fancy as hell.

The kind of place where the parking lot’s full of shiny cars, and the kids look like they’ve never worked a day in their lives.

But Blackridge’s hockey program? One of the best. So, it’ll have to do.

Coach leans back in his chair, his desk cluttered with papers and an old coffee mug. He’s got this intense look, like he’s sizing me up.

“Here’s the deal, Grayson,” he says, voice gruff. “We’ve got tryouts tomorrow. Just ‘cause you’re a transfer doesn’t mean you’re guaranteed a spot.”

I nod. “Got it. What time?”

“Six sharp. Ice time’s at a premium here, so don’t be late.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He grunts, not looking convinced. “We expect discipline here. Good grades, no skipping practices, no screwing around. You give me any trouble, I’ll bench you. Clear?”

“Crystal,” I say, leaning back in my chair. This guy’s intense, but I get it. He’s got a program to protect, and I’m the outsider.

He’s mid-rant about team dynamics when the door flies open, slamming against the wall.

“Fucking unbelievable!” a voice explodes into the room.

I glance over and freeze.

A girl storms in, clutching an empty to her chest. Her hair’s a wild mess of reddish-brown curls — not like those fake glossy curls you see on Instagram.

These are untamed, like she just rolled out of bed.

There’s a spray of freckles across her cheeks, and her lips are moving a mile a minute as she curses under her breath.

“I spent all goddamn afternoon on this, and some asshole just—” She stops mid-rant, eyes locking on me.

Her face goes bright red.

“Oh,” she stammers, clutching the folder tighter. “I didn’t know you had someone in here.”

Coach sighs, like this isn’t the first time she’s barged in. “Sienna, this is one of my new transfer students. Elliot Grayson. Eli, this is my daughter, Sienna.”

Daughter?

No fucking way.

Her cheeks go even redder as she steps forward, sticking out a hand. “Hi.”

Her voice is soft, high-pitched. A little squeaky, but in a cute way.

I take her hand, and it’s so small it almost disappears in mine. For a second, I just stare at it. Her skin’s warm, her nails painted a pale pink.

“Nice to meet you,” I say, my voice coming out lower than I meant.

She glances up at me, her green eyes wide. “Yeah. You, too.”

Her hand lingers for a second longer than it should, and then she pulls it back, looking anywhere but at me.

“What’s the problem now?” Coach asks, his tone half-annoyed, half-amused.

“Some idiot knocked over my cookies,” she says, waving the folder around. “I’ve been working on them all day and he just fucking...”

“Careful with the language,” Coach warns.

“Sorry,” she mutters, glaring at the floor.

I can’t help but grin. She’s flustered, and it’s kind of adorable.

“Sorry about your cookies,” I say. “Sounds like a rough day.”

She glances at me again, her cheeks still red. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Coach clears his throat. “Sienna, we’ll talk about it later. Right now, I’m with Eli.”

“Right. Sorry.” She backs toward the door, still avoiding my gaze.

I stand, grabbing my bag. “No worries, Coach. We can finish this tomorrow after tryouts.”

Coach raises an eyebrow. “You sure?”

“Yeah. Got the gist. Show up, work hard, don’t piss you off.” I flash a grin, and he shakes his head, smirking.

“Smartass.”

I glance at Sienna, who’s watching me like she’s trying to figure me out. “Nice to meet you, Sienna.”

Her lips twitch like she’s about to smile but doesn’t. “You, too.”

As I walk out, I can’t stop the thought that Blackridge just got a hell of a lot more interesting.

Outside, I pull my phone from my pocket. There’s a message from Maria.

How’s it going? Settling in okay?

I smile, typing back. All good, Maria. Just registered for classes and met my coach. Staying in a hotel for now, but I’ll figure it out. Thanks for checking in.

Maria’s been my nanny since I was a kid, and she still worries about me like I’m twelve. She’s the closest thing I’ll ever have to a mother.

I pocket my phone and head to the hotel. A shower sounds like a good idea, and I’ve got a meeting with the real estate agent later.

As I drive, I think about Coach’s daughter. With the curls, the freckles, and that little squeaky voice.

Yeah. Blackridge is definitely looking up.

The penthouse is the kind of place that screams money .

High ceilings, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, marble counters in the kitchen.

I’m standing in the middle of it, arms crossed, pretending like I’m not impressed.

Truth is, I am. The view alone is worth whatever obscene price tag this place has.

Not that I’m about to let her know that.

Her heels click against the floor as she walks past me.

Blonde hair, perfectly curled, bounces with each step.

She’s wearing one of those pencil skirts that makes her look professional but still shows off every curve.

Her blouse is silk, probably designer, and unbuttoned just enough to give a glimpse of cleavage.

She’s been smiling at me like I’m the only guy she’s ever shown a house to.

“This kitchen is state-of-the-art,” she says, leaning against the counter and gesturing to the appliances like they’re part of a museum exhibit. “Wolf range, Sub-Zero fridge, custom cabinetry. Perfect for entertaining.”

“Do I look like a guy who entertains?” I smirk.

Her blue eyes sparkle as she laughs. “You never know. A place like this could change that.”

I glance back at the living room. It’s massive, open, modern. The kind of space that would look great in photos. But all I can think about is that couch in the corner and how good it’d look with someone bent over it.

“You’ve been in the city long?” she asks, stepping closer. Her heels click slower this time, deliberate.

“Long enough.” I slide my hands into my pockets, my leather jacket creaking with the movement.

Her gaze dips to my chest, where my fitted black T-shirt stretches tight.

I paired it with dark jeans and my favorite boots, figuring I should at least look like I belong in a place like this.

But I know what really caught her attention.

It wasn’t the jacket or the boots. It was the car I rolled up in.

A sleek, black McLaren. And to top it all off, I told her I would be paying for the house in cash.

“What do you think of the place so far?” Her voice softens, and she tilts her head, giving me that look.

“It’s not bad,” I say, letting my eyes trail down her body before snapping back to her face. “You got anything else to show me?”

Her lips part, and there’s a flush creeping up her neck now. She takes a step closer, and I can smell her perfume. Something expensive and sweet but not overpowering.

“Well, the master bedroom is through here,” she says, turning and walking towards the hallway. Her hips sway, and I follow, hands still in my pockets, trying not to grin.

The bedroom is just as ridiculous as the rest of the place. Huge bed, plush white bedding, and, of course, more of those giant windows overlooking the city.

“This view is incredible,” she says, walking to the glass and running her hand along the frame. She turns back to me, leaning against the wall now, the city lights making her blonde hair shine.

“It’s decent,” I say, stepping into the room.

Her smile widens. She knows exactly what she’s doing.

“You’re a tough one to impress, huh?”

“Not always.”

There’s a beat of silence. Just the sound of the city outside. She looks at me, and for a second, I think she’s going to keep it professional. But then she steps closer, crossing her arms under her chest, pushing her tits up just enough to catch my attention.

“You’re going to like it here,” she says, her voice low, almost teasing.

I take a step closer, closing the distance. “I think I already do.”

Her lips part again, and this time, I can see the way her breath hitches.

This is the moment where I’d normally pull back, remind myself to keep it cool. But something about her — the way she’s looking at me, the way she moves — it flips a switch in me.

“Show me the rest,” I say, my voice rougher now.

Her eyes flick to my mouth, and for a second, I think she’s going to say something. But instead, she turns on her heel and walks to the bed, sitting on the edge with her legs crossed.

“That depends,” she says, her voice light but her gaze anything but. “Are you buying?”

I step closer, towering over her now. “Guess that depends on how much I like the place.”

Her laugh is soft, breathy. And when she reaches out, brushing her fingers over the leather of my jacket, I know this penthouse isn’t the only thing I’m walking away with tonight.

Her fingers linger on my jacket, tracing the edge like it’s made of gold. She tilts her head, those blue eyes locked on mine, and her tongue slips over her bottom lip. It’s all the confirmation I need.

I lean down, one hand bracing on the bed beside her, and drop my voice low. “You always mix business with pleasure?”

She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t back down. If anything, her smile gets a little wider, a little more daring. “Only when the client makes it worth my while.”

I chuckle, dragging my thumb along her jawline, tilting her face up toward mine. Her skin is smooth, warm. “Guess I’ll have to prove I’m worth it, huh?”

Her breath hitches this time, but she recovers quick, brushing her hair over her shoulder and leaning closer. “Maybe you should.”

That’s all I need. I close the distance, pressing my lips to hers, firm but testing. She melts into it immediately, her hands sliding up my chest and grabbing onto my jacket like she’s afraid I’ll pull back.

Not happening.

I deepen the kiss, sliding my tongue against hers, tasting the faint hint of mint. My free hand trails down her side, grabbing her waist and pulling her closer until her legs uncross and she shifts on the bed.

“Eli,” she breathes, breaking the kiss for half a second before diving back in.

Her voice sends a jolt through me, straight to my gut. I tug her to her feet, wrapping one arm around her waist to steady her. She gasps, her hands flying up to grip my shoulders.

“You’re full of surprises,” she murmurs, her voice teasing but shaky now.

“Stick around, sweetheart. You’ve seen nothing yet.”

She laughs, breathless, and before she can say another word, I walk her backward until her legs hit the bed again. She sinks down, looking up at me, flushed and more than a little disheveled now.

I shrug off my jacket, tossing it onto the chair nearby, and unbutton my shirt’s top two buttons. Her eyes track every move I make, her lips parting as her gaze dips lower.

“Like what you see?” I ask, grinning.

Her laugh turns into a hum, one finger beckoning me closer. “Come here and find out.”

I step closer, kneeling on the edge of the bed. Her hands are on me instantly, sliding under my shirt, nails scraping lightly against my skin. It’s been too long, and every touch is like pouring gasoline on an already burning fire.

Her hands move lower, working at my belt, her lips curling into a smirk. “You came prepared,” she murmurs, nodding toward my black jeans, which don’t leave much to the imagination.

I chuckle, grabbing her wrist and pulling her hand away just for a second. “You sure you’re ready for this?”

Her laugh is soft, daring. “I can handle you.”

I let go of her wrist, watching as her hands finish what they started, unbuckling my belt and tugging at the waistband. I lean back slightly, giving her the space she needs.

She slides off the bed, sinking to her knees in front of me. The way she looks up at me — like I’m the only thing that matters right now — sends a rush straight through me.

Her hands are steady as she tugs my jeans lower, freeing me. And when her lips wrap around me, warm and soft, my head tips back.

“Fuck,” I mutter, my hands gripping the edge of the bed.

She’s good. Better than I expected. And as she moves, taking me deeper, her nails digging into my thighs, it’s all I can do to keep control.

The windows behind her show the city skyline, lights twinkling against the dark. But all I can focus on is her — her blonde hair fanned out, her lips moving with purpose, her tongue doing things that have my body coiled tight.

I groan, my hands sliding into her hair, not forcing, just guiding. She hums, and the vibration nearly undoes me.

“You’re fucking dangerous, you know that?” I say, my voice rough.

She looks up, her blue eyes glinting with mischief, and pulls back just enough to say, “Dangerous enough to sell you this place?”

I laugh, breathless, shaking my head. “Yeah, you’ve made your point.”

She takes me back in, her pace picking up, and my grip in her hair tightens. It’s not long before I’m growling, my body tensing as she finishes me off.

When she pulls back, wiping the corner of her mouth with a satisfied smirk, I take a moment to catch my breath.

“Well,” I say, leaning back and tugging her to her feet. “Guess I’m buying this place.”

Her laugh is soft, smug. “Thought you might.”

I pull her closer, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. “You’ve got some serious sales tactics.”

She grins, smoothing her skirt and glancing at the windows. “Anything to close the deal.”

I watch her for a moment, still catching my breath. The city behind her, the way she stands there like she owns the place — it’s a hell of a sight.

“You sticking around?” I ask, tugging my jeans back up.

She tilts her head, smirking. “Depends. You got anything else to offer?”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “Not tonight.”

She laughs, grabbing her bag and smoothing her hair. “Well, Mr. Grayson, I’d say this was a successful showing.”

“Yeah,” I say, pulling on my jacket. “I’ll sign the paperwork tomorrow.”

“Looking forward to it.”

She winks, walking to the door with a sway in her hips that I can’t look away from. Once she’s gone, I glance back at the bed, then out at the city.

This place is mine now.