Page 21 of Meet Your Match (Kings of the Ice)

THAT FACE

Maven

T he Inner Harbor in Baltimore reminded me of Tampa’s Riverwalk, the lights of the city serving as a backdrop and reflecting off the water. Except I would have been sweating in Tampa, even though it was early November.

In Baltimore, I was shivering.

Vince and I walked quietly side by side, and I thought that was what he’d brought me here for. When the car had dropped us off and he’d just started strolling, I assumed that was it. He just wanted a walk to clear his head.

I was wishing I’d worn more comfortable shoes — and a heavier coat.

But we didn’t walk more than a hundred yards before he turned us toward a dock, and he shook hands with a man halfway down it before climbing aboard a boat.

Although, calling it a boat felt silly.

It was more like a small yacht.

I shook my head in disbelief at the pristine luxury of it — the crisp white hull gleaming under the moonlight, the plush leather seating area surrounding a hot tub, the tables covered in a spread of hors d’oeuvres.

Vince watched my expression as the captain introduced himself to me, along with the crew, and then Vince and I were handed glasses of champagne and given a tour.

We ended it at the front of the ship, Vince taking a seat on one of the couches while I sat in a chair across from him.

The teak was gorgeous, the deck furniture more expensive than all my belongings combined.

“How on Earth did you manage to get a yacht chartered at almost midnight?” I asked when we were alone, the crew working to get us off the dock and out into the harbor.

“Gary is a friend of Bobby’s,” he explained on a shrug, referring to our captain.

I remembered Bobby well enough — especially the stories he shared about Vince in college.

If I’d had any doubt that Tampa’s shiny new toy hid his playboy activities behind his well-curated facade, it was obliterated with Bobby’s recounting of their days at Michigan.

James had been like that.

He had a shiny reputation on campus, and even more so when it came to the media that followed his college career as he worked toward being invited to play in the PGA Tour when he graduated.

He was one of the few amateurs who received an invite to play at the Masters, and he’d made the cut, which had everyone in a tizzy about him and his future.

To everyone who thought they knew him, he was an All-American boy next door.

But I’d seen him not-so-covertly check out another woman’s ass as he put his arm around me.

I’d watched him wink and flirt with girls on campus as he signed autographs, only to quickly kiss me and tell me it was all for show.

I’d seen him play in charity tournaments, only to make fun of the poor and complain about taxes with his buddies at the country club.

So many red flags, and yet I’d ignored them all — because I thought I was the exception to the rule. I thought I was the girl who broke the mold. I thought he was telling the truth when he said he was loyal to me, that we had forever in our hands.

I shivered, the past as icy cold as the air sweeping through my hair.

“Don’t you think this is an activity a little more well-suited for Tampa?” I asked, wrapping the blanket one of the stews had given me tightly around my shoulders. “It’s freezing.”

“We have the hot tub,” Vince said in way of a solution.

“Right. And no swimwear.”

“Who needs swimwear?”

I snorted a laugh, but Vince downed the last of his champagne with his eyes locked on mine. Then, he stood.

He shrugged off his jacket first, kicking his shoes off at the same time. Next, he reached one hand back over his head, gripping his long-sleeve shirt by the neck and tearing it off in one smooth pull.

The city lights cast him in a soft glow — his lean abs and arms, his chest, the unmistakable cut of muscles that made a V, the apex of which was still hidden by his joggers.

The corner of his mouth lifted when I didn’t look away, and he pulled his joggers down next, kicking them off his ankles before removing his socks.

In nothing but a pair of black briefs, Vince stood on the deck of that yacht like he owned it. His thick thighs stretched the fabric, and it didn’t seem to bother him that it was freezing. I could see the outline of him, thick and proud, his cock so big it looked like he’d stuffed his pants .

When he slid his thumbs beneath the waistband, I looked up at the sky just in time to hear him shed that last bit of clothing. I thought I also heard him chuckle before there was the distinct sound of a body wading into water.

When I was mostly sure it was safe to look again, I brought my eyes back to the hot tub — where Vince was reclining, his arms draped over the edges, hazel eyes watching me.

“You joining me?” he asked, the steam wafting around him.

“Keep dreaming.”

He shrugged. “Suit yourself. This water is perfect.” He almost purred the words, sinking down more into the hot tub with a groan. His eyes fluttered shut. “And we have the boat for three hours.”

I clenched my teeth as a particularly brisk wind whipped through my hair then. Even Mother Nature was playing dirty.

“But I guess you have your blanket,” he said, his eyes still closed. “That should keep you warm enough.”

His smile grew an inch.

“You’re so sure of yourself, aren’t you?” I scoffed.

“I’m sure you’ll have more fun in here with me than out there in that wind.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

He smiled even wider, and I was thankful there wasn’t a light in that hot tub because from this angle, I was pretty sure I’d be able to see everything.

When we made it out of the harbor, the wind picked up even more, and I curled in on myself, teeth chattering. Even with the third glass of champagne I eagerly downed, hoping it would bring a little warmth, there was no use.

I was a Popsicle .

“Fine,” I gritted out, standing and reluctantly shrugging off my blanket. “T-turn around and c-close your eyes.”

“I like it when you’re bossy,” Vince said, and I flicked him off before he did what I asked.

Quickly, I undressed, leaving my thong and bra on. I figured I could change and get home without them under my clothes later, but it seemed pressing to not get into that hot tub naked with Vince Tanev.

The water stung at first when I stepped in, prickling my skin until I was fully submerged. When I was, I let out a long sigh of relief. The water was perfectly warm.

“Aren’t you glad you didn’t let your stubbornness win?” Vince asked, turning to look at me. I didn’t miss how his eyes immediately went to my tits, and he almost looked disappointed to find them covered.

I splashed him.

For a while we sat in a comfortable silence, relaxing in the bubbling water. I didn’t realize I let out another long sigh until I opened my eyes and found Vince looking at me.

“You needed this.”

I was tempted to argue with him, but the water had me feeling more relaxed than I had in weeks. “Maybe I did.”

“Something wrong?”

“No,” I said on another sigh. “Just… a lot going on, I guess.”

“You need to unwind.”

I laughed. “Right, with all my free time.”

That made Vince frown, and I waved him off.

“I’m fine. I do yoga when I can, which helps, and this is all temporary. I’ll be back to my normal routine before I know it.”

I thought that made him frown even more, but he smiled so quickly on the edge of it that I couldn’t be sure .

“Turn around,” he said, moving slowly toward me. He was like a snake in the water, gliding through it, head just above the waterline, his muscular shoulders making a small wake.

“What are you doing?” I asked, backing away.

His hand caught my wrist under water, and he tugged me forward before spinning me to face the opposite way.

“You are a terrible listener,” he said in my ear.

Chills swept over me, and in the next breath, his massive hands were wrapped around my shoulders, thumbs kneading into the tense muscles.

I moaned so loudly my face flamed with embarrassment.

Vince paused only a second before continuing his delicious assault, and I had no choice but to melt into him. The water, his hands — it all felt so fucking good .

The silence was no longer comfortable.

It was heavy, weighted with something that made me want to run for my life. So I cleared my throat and reached for the first thing I could think of to break it.

“That was really sweet,” I said, biting back another groan that I wanted so desperately to release when he rubbed my sore rhomboids. All my focus was on not focusing on how Vince Tanev was naked behind me with his hands on my body. “What you did with the kids at that rink yesterday…”

“Just paying a visit to an old friend.”

My stomach soured a bit. “Yeah. Bobby seems to know you really well.”

He nodded. “We were close at Michigan. He’s a beast of a defenseman, just as good, if not better, than Brittzy.”

“Why didn’t he go pro?”

“He could have. He had teams who wanted him. He probably would have started in the AHL, though,” he said.

“ But even if they would have told him he could have come straight to the NHL, I don’t think he would have.

Bobby has always wanted to coach, to be at that rink that helped him so much.

Not everyone has parents who can afford to drop the kind of cash hockey requires. ”

I let that sit for a moment, wincing as he dug his thumbs into my neck. I let my head fall back when he moved to my shoulders again.

“You’ve been off on this trip.”

It was a statement, not so much a question, and Vince didn’t answer for a long moment.

“I need to play better.”

I barked out a laugh. “Why, so you can win all three stars of the game instead of just one?”

“I didn’t score in either of these games,” he said.

“You had an assist.”

“It’s not the same.”

I pulled away, turning so I could face him. I immediately missed the feel of his hands on me — which was a problem in and of itself — but I wanted to look at him when I said, “You don’t have to carry the weight of the team on your shoulders.”