Page 1 of Icing the Cougar (Hockey USA Collection #7)

Jasper

I'm on my fourth scotch and not feeling a damn thing, but that might have something to do with the phone glued to my hand. Or my teammate, Riley, and his girlfriend’s face, plastered all over my screen with a smug, he's-fucking-winning grin.

I think about throwing the phone against the wall, just to see it shatter.

See something shatter. Instead, I drop it on the bar and glare at my drink.

Riley and Amelia are moving in together, which means Riley is winning once again.

Our team captain always seems to have the perfect opportunities handed to him, and in the case of Riley, literally land in his lap without even trying.

Yeah, he’s my friend, but damn, throw a little luck my way every now and then, won’t you.

The social media posts say that it's the housewarming of the century, apparently.

I'm wondering what that even means, wondering why the hell I even give a fuck.

This drink is doing less than nothing to numb the feeling, when I spot him.

The kind of guy you see in a stock photo when you search "sex offender.

" The slicked-back hair catches my attention first. He's leaning close to a woman at the end of the bar who looks to be about ten years older than me, a big-ass grin splitting his face.

He's dropping something into her drink.

She's a blur of bright red hair and smooth skin, and she doesn't seem to notice.

Her focus is somewhere over his shoulder, while he slides the glass closer and wraps her fingers around it.

I look away, hoping I'm wrong. Maybe I just want to be wrong for once.

She brings it to her lips, and he's still smiling with an evil smile.

The scotch sloshes all over my jeans when I get up.

I'm not even sure what my plan is. Tell him to knock it off?

Call him an asshole? Offer to hold his stupid-looking wallet while he calls for bail?

It doesn't matter because I'm halfway there, and the scumbag finally sees me.

He puts his arm around her waist like that will help. It doesn't.

"Hands off," I growl. "She came with me."

It's enough to make him hesitate, enough for me to wedge my body between them. It's also enough to piss him off.

"Get lost," he says. He has an accent like he’s European and way richer than me. "She’s with me tonight."

He's the kind of guy that can afford lawyers, the kind of guy I should avoid if I want to keep my career on track. He's also the kind of guy I hate more than anything.

She sways on her stool. Her eyes are closed, and her glass is nearly empty.

"Not tonight," I say.

For a second, I think he's going to fight me. He looks like he wants to, looks like he'd enjoy it. I see him calculating, measuring, figuring out if I'm worth the trouble. He must decide I’m not because he shoves his glass toward me. It hits my chest and drops to the floor.

"Good luck," he says, and he strolls out of the bar with a shit-eating grin.

The woman’s head is down now. She leans forward like she might fall.

Like she might break. I get my arm around her shoulder before she does, and I look around.

Everyone is pretending they didn’t see, pretending they don’t notice.

I don’t blame them. I don’t want to notice either.

However, I’m here, and I’ve got her. I can’t just dump her and run.

I try to shake her awake. "Hey, hey, are you okay?"

Nothing. Her eyes are open now, but there’s nobody home. I shake her again, harder, and her head lolls against my shoulder. The kind of limp that screams call the fucking cops.

That’s the last thing I need, so I find a bellhop and slip him fifty bucks to get me a room. Then I carry her to the elevator, hoping no one snaps a photo and sells it to the press.

He gives me a keycard, and I steer her down the hall to a room on the third floor.

"Almost there," I say. She blinks up at me, and I think she might be coming around. She isn’t. She’s dead weight when I sit her on the bed.

I pace a few feet and look at her. I should just go. I did my good deed for the year. She’ll wake up with a hangover, and that’ll be that. I can’t just leave her, not when she’s in this state, but I still think I need to get the fuck out of here.

I'm halfway to the door to leave when she mumbles something.

I turn around. "What was that?"

She's reaching for me. "Don’t go," she whispers.

"You're awake."

She nods, but it looks like it takes every ounce of strength she has.

"Don’t go," she says again.

I stand there like an idiot, trying to decide what to do. Then she gets my hand, and her skin is warm against mine. Hot, even. I don’t expect that. It’s like lightning shooting up my arm. Like all the shit I try to forget is burning away. She’s looking at me now, looking at me like she wants me.

Fuck me, I’m in trouble.

I sit on the bed, expecting her to fall back asleep. Expecting her to flake out, but she doesn’t. She pulls herself closer and leans against me, and she doesn’t let go of my hand. Her breathing slows. I wait for her to pass out again. She doesn’t do that either.

She opens her eyes, and they’re clearer than before. "You saved me," she says.

"Just made sure you didn’t do anything you’d regret."

She runs a finger slowly down my arm. "You don’t know what I’d regret."

She has no idea what she's saying. She has to be high as a fucking kite, but then her hand is on my chest. It slides under my shirt, and she smiles like she knows what she's doing. Like she wants to do it.

"Easy," I say. "You’re still—"

"Trinity." She bites her lip and lets it go, looking up at me. "That’s my name."

I thought she’d be asleep by now. Instead, she's getting more awake by the second. More awake and more persistent. Her fingers hook through my belt loops, and she pulls me closer, until I’m pressed against her, and the rest of the world is a distant, fading memory.

She tugs at my jeans, at my shirt, and I wonder how the hell I’m going to stop this before it gets out of control.

I should. I know I should. Her lips brush my ear, and her breath is warm and soft.

If I were a good guy, I’d stand up and leave right this instant. Although, I’m not a good guy, and I turn towards her and crash my mouth on hers.

Every doubt evaporates, every reason not to give in goes with them. My hands are in her hair, pulling her closer. Her mouth is on mine, hungry, relentless. I catch her scent, like lavender and sandalwood. It blurs my head and sharpens my desire, and I can’t hold back.

I don’t want to.

She pulls at my shirt, tugging the fabric until it slips over my head.

She moves with a single-mindedness that I should find frightening, but instead it lights a spark that burns away everything but need and want and more.

I kick my jeans free. Her dress is next, and the thin straps slide down her shoulders, down her arms, down to a puddle on the floor.

She only has a black lace thong underneath and removes the last layer of clothing.

She watches me take her in. There’s nothing modest about it.

There’s nothing shy. Her body is smooth and warm under my hands; her breath is hot on my neck.

She wraps around me, pulling me closer, tighter.

I'm ready to lose it. Her legs twine around my waist, making us fall onto the bed. She gasps when I press against her. I'm breathless with how much I want her, with how much she wants me. I can’t keep my hands off her, can’t keep my lips from trailing her skin.

I worship her body like she’s a goddess.

Her fingers are in my hair, on my back, tracing the lines of my muscles. Her hips rise to meet mine, teasing, and her voice is a soft, needy plea. "Please," she breathes.

I move down, tasting her. She moans, and her nails dig into my shoulders. I'm dizzy, overwhelmed, and she’s relentless, pushing me to the brink of losing my mind. We’re tangled and breathless, and she rolls over me, pinning me under her, but I swiftly flip us so that I’m on top.

I grab the condom from my wallet. My hands shake as I tear it open and slide it on. I never lose control like this. I never lose control, period.

Her eyes are locked on mine, and I push into her, making her gasp. Her arms and legs wrap around me, pulling me in deeper. I thrust again, and she cries out.

Her voice is the only sound in the room. "Yes," she gasps. "Yes."

It's everything I didn’t know I needed. We find an urgent rhythm, like we’re racing against time. Her fingers dig into my skin.

She bites her lip, and the sight of it almost undoes me.

We move together, closer and closer, bodies slick, every nerve ending on fire. I’m holding on by a thread, and that thread snaps when she moans, louder this time, like it’s being ripped from her chest.

Fuck me, Trinity.

We climax together, trembling, shattering. I bury my face in her neck as we both lose it, as the intensity washes over us and leaves us breathless and spent. Her heart hammers against my chest.

She falls asleep with her head on my shoulder, and I watch the steady rise and fall of her breathing as I stroke her hair. I wasn’t looking for anything like this to happen tonight. Her skin is marked where my mouth was. A reminder. A warning.

I pull on my clothes in the dark. I’m out the door before dawn, leaving her with hazy memories and a mysterious mark on her skin. I can’t stop thinking about how she’ll wake up alone, thinking it was all a dream.

I wonder if she’s right.