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CHAPTER

TWO

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I stood in the doorway with my arms above my head pressed to the jambs on either side.

Antonov and Winstead needed to pass through, but I kept my ground.

Antonov ran his hand slowly over the curve of my hip and while internally sighing, I bit my lip.

Man-whore or not, he got me seriously wet.

I doubted any woman had the power to say no to his advances.

But then the rookie on the team, Winstead, ran a finger along my jaw, and damn .

If he kept hanging with Antonov, I predicted the sexy Russian having to defend his body count wins.

But this, this was all in good fun. We were friends for the most part and this sexually charged banter just came with that.

All the men knew where I stood on this particular subject.

I would never be their good-time girl. That didn’t stop Antonov from trying.

“You ever been tag-teamed?” Antonov asked. No. Not ever, but if anyone could’ve convinced me to try it, he’d have been the one.

“What’s the matter, Antonov?” I said. “Can’t pleasure a woman on your own?”

“You get me wrong—it’s all for your pleasure.”

My mouth dropped open before I quickly regained control of my faculties and followed with, “I just might take you up on that.” I never would. It was fun to pretend though.

The hockey studs slid past me, both slowly brushing their significant packages against my khakis, causing all kinds of friction. Winstead on my ass and Antonov pressing himself against my crotch. It took everything I had not to groan—or orgasm.

Antonov chuckled. Oh, that man was evil. He knew what he did to women.

“You don’t have to act like that, you know.” Baker Reece. Shit. I’d forgotten him standing over by the lockers. He pointed to his teammates as if I couldn’t discern the them on my own.

“Are you slut shaming me? That’s rich coming from you. But I guess getting double-teamed is only cool for professional hockey players.”

“By all means…” He threw his hand out. “Fuck the whole team if you like.”

“I don’t need your permission.”

“No. You don’t. But I assume you need this job. Most people need their jobs. I happen to know that the arena has a no-fraternizing policy that all of you have to sign.”

“But not you?”

“We’re the talent, sweetheart. We can do whatever the fuck we want.”

Jesus. Of course they could. “And how exactly did you come across this knowledge?”

He shrugged. “There was an incident several years ago before you hired on.”

“It’s true for employees hired on by the arena.

I’m custodial. We’re contracted in.” I walked over to him, tipping his chin down with my fingers to look him in the eyes.

“I don’t know why, but I’m feeling generous, so I’m giving you a little fact about myself.

Feel free to use it how you like. You will, anyway… ”

Reece narrowed his deep, stormy-sea eyes at me.

“I have a kid with special needs. It’s just me and him. I have two jobs. I’m sure you’ve heard by now that I dance at Slits. When I’m not working, I’m taking care of him. So yeah, sometimes I like to get my rocks off. It’s as simple as that.”

“Not with them. You fuck Antonov and you’ll end up with a disease or some shit. Fuck Winstead—you’re a cunty home-wrecker. He’s got a woman.” He shrugged. “You want that?”

“Technically, that’s on him. I’m not the one in the relationship.

” No. I never wanted to be a homewrecker, but I needed to keep up this ruse because I’d started it and these men weren’t allowed to know the real me.

The friend they got was a highly crafted version of myself.

A strong, confident woman who couldn’t be hurt by anyone or anything.

A take-it-as-it-comes kind of woman who let everything roll off her back.

Well, except for with Dallas. He’d been a real, true, runs-deep kind of friend to me. He knew my secrets and I knew his.

But, oh god, I’d be lying if I denied that Reece’s eyes operated like tractor beams, drawing me into his gaze.

If I were to break my rule for one man on the team, Baker Reece was that man.

“That’s what you want your son to see? You getting confronted in a restaurant when the two of you are out for dinner? ”

“Why do you care?” I asked and his nostrils flared. He dropped his hands to my hips, jerking me forward until there was no space between us, and my breath hitched.

“I’ve got a proposal for you. If you need sexual healing, I’ll give it to you.”

“ You ? Why? You never talk to me more than one-syllable words or grunts.”

“‘ Grunts ’?” He paused, smirking, and then said, “Fuck it.” And before I had time to think, he pulled my face in to press his powerful mouth to mine.

My heartbeat sped up to almost a painful level.

But he pushed me away just as I started to get comfortable, running my hands from his shoulders to grip his hair.

It took a second for my eyes to focus. “Why are you doing this?”

“I like getting my rocks off, too, but the club’s been getting publicity for the wrong reasons. We had a meeting yesterday—I won’t bore you with the details, but suffice it to say, I won’t compromise my spot on the team for pussy.”

“I’m not even sure how I feel about you, and now you want to have sex with me?”

“I don’t want sex—I want to hardcore fuck you.”

The idea of getting naked with Reece fascinated me yet scared the crap out of me at the same time.

He clearly came complete with what a woman required in the bedroom.

I couldn’t deny that. But at the same time, would he be able to say the same about me?

Still… “So this is a friends-with-benefits arrangement, then?”

“We’re not friends, but we’ll both benefit. That’s a promise.”

“If we do this, I need one more promise from you.”

“What do you need?”

I need one more promise from you? Why did I say that?

Squeezing my eyes shut to get my bearings, I took in a breath, needing that time to think up some kind of response that didn’t make me appear like a complete and utter loser to one of the hottest men in the NHL.

As I tried to think up something to get me out of the corner I’d backed myself into, it hit me.

The perfect answer. Feelings often ended up as the price you paid for sleeping with the same person over and over.

Lord knew I needed to develop feelings for the man about as much as I needed a kick in the head with a golf shoe.

“Spit it out. I don’t have all day,” he snapped, but not necessarily unkindly, if that made any sense.

Because of that, Reece got lucky that I decided to be the bigger person and kept my knee from his groin .

I opened my eyes, nodded once, and said, “You can’t fall in love with me.

” Yeah—it had sounded better in my head.

I’d heard it in a movie once and always wanted to try it out on someone.

Why didn’t I keep my stupid mouth shut? He had to be thinking all kinds of unflattering things about me, but given it was out in the world now, I had to run with it.

“I can’t what?”

“You heard me. You can’t see me as anything more than a fuck buddy because I can’t give you anything back.”

“Baby, I won’t see you as anything more than a fuck.”

What made me even contemplate this? He hardly spoke two words to me on any given day, and I wasn’t particularly fond of his ass for ignoring me, no matter how incredibly fine that ass might’ve been.

“Take out your phone.” Reece pulled his phone from the pocket of his jeans and I rattled off my number, giving him time to type it into his contacts.

Then I waited as he pressed to call me, giving me his number back.

After adding it to my contacts, which I listed him as Grunts , I shoved my phone back into my pocket. “Listen, I have to get back to work.”

“I’ll text when I got an itch to scratch.”

“Cool. I might not always be available. I dance at the club and then I have my boy.”

He shrugged as if it didn’t matter to him one way or another. “You’ll text when you’ve got time and we’ll arrange a hookup.”

And that was that.

“Should we shake hands or something?” I asked to his accompanying snicker.

“No. We don’t fucking shake hands.” Idiot that I was, I melted into the kiss he offered instead. What the hell was wrong with me? Getting swept up by Baker Reece. Not smart, Bree .

Well, it didn’t matter. He pushed me off as soon as he had his fill, snickered, patted my ass, and walked away .

Are you shitting me? Part of me had the mind to call the asshole back and tell him the whole agreement was off. The more sensible side of me felt like this arrangement made more sense than hitting the bars to get laid. And safer. I had my son to think about.

My little Benny, the one true love of my life. On that thought, I got back down to work wiping down the lockers.

Two hours later at the end of shift, I rolled my cart back to the storage room and then walked to the employee break room to fetch my purse.

I sat down just to breathe, almost sitting on my phone.

When I pulled it from my pocket, I had a text from Reece.

Rather than text back, I pressed his contact. It seemed more practical.

“You got me,” he answered.

“I can’t tonight. I have to take Benny to his therapy and get him dinner. Then he has to go to the sitter because I dance at Slits tonight. I won’t be home until three.”

“‘Therapy’?” he asked. “Wait, none of my business. What’s your address?”

“Why?”

“Bree—your address. I’m not fucking around.”

I recited my address back to him.

“Right. See you at three,” he said before hanging up.