Page 22 of Meet Your Match (Kings of the Ice)

“No,” he agreed, his eyes glued to mine. “But I can play better.”

“You’re a perfectionist.”

“I just hold myself to a high standard.”

“That must be exhausting.”

He smiled, looking up at the sky before he looked at me again. “It’s the opposite, actually. I feel energized when I’m performing well, when I’m scoring goals and training hard. I feel my best when I’m performing on and off the ice.”

“What are you afraid of? ”

The question seemed to catch him off guard, and Vince watched me for a long pause before he answered.

“Being worthless.”

I wasn’t expecting such an honest answer. In fact, I guess I’d been expecting a joke, because the vulnerability with which he said those words struck me like a bat against the head.

I frowned, and the longer I watched him, the more Vince shifted under my gaze. Eventually, he cleared his throat and motioned for me to turn around again, swirling his pointer finger in the air. When I did, he went back to massaging my shoulders.

I groaned. “God. This feels so good.”

“Still mad at me?”

I felt under the water for his side, and then pinched it hard enough to make him squirm away.

“Ow,” he said, pointedly.

“You deserved it.”

“Why? What’d I do?”

I didn’t humor him with a response, which made him let out a soft laugh.

“You really are tense,” he said, finding a particularly stubborn knot under my shoulder blade and digging into it. I hissed, but didn’t pull away, knowing I’d feel better once it was worked out.

“Yeah, well, let’s just say, I’m not used to your hours yet.”

“Tell me about your life. What did a normal day look like before you got this assignment?”

I sighed. “Well, I usually start my morning on my mat.”

“Yoga?”

I nodded. “And then coffee, of course. ”

“Of course.”

“From there, it depends. On the weekends, I’m probably tending my garden, or spending time at the beach, or hitting a new brunch spot with Liv. Sundays start at the park, as you know. If it’s a weekday, I’m either in the office or out on the town, depending on what my job is that day.”

“Is this your dream job?”

I laughed. “I don’t know if I have a dream job.”

“Sure, you do. What would you do if money were no object, if your bills were paid and all you had to do was fill your time?”

A long moment passed before I found the words to answer.

“I don’t know.”

It was the most painful admission, one I was surprised I made. It dredged up the embarrassment I’d felt when I admitted that to James when we were together, how he’d judged me for it even before I realized that’s what he was doing.

People like him, like Vince, didn’t understand what it was like to not be born knowing exactly what you wanted to do with your entire life.

“My parents, they’ve always known their path,” I said.

“They were in AmeriCorps together, shaping communities for the better. They dedicated an entire decade of their life after college before they got out and started making a life of their own. Now, Mom works with a women’s shelter, and Dad builds houses in communities where owning a home seems more like a pipe dream than a reality within reach.

They brought me up with those same values, and I want to give back.

I want to make Tampa, and the world, better. ”

“But? ”

I hated that he knew there was a but, and I was glad to be facing away from him, to not have those hazel eyes peering into mine when I answered.

“But I don’t necessarily love it the way they do.

Don’t get me wrong,” I said hurriedly. “I enjoy giving back, I do. I love feeling connected to people, and making them feel valuable, worthwhile — reminding them they’re not alone.

It’s just… I don’t know. I guess I just wish I had the same passion for it.

I wish it fueled me the way it fuels my parents.

” I paused. “You should have seen their faces when I told them I didn’t want to go into the Peace Corps.

I think a small part of them died that day. ”

“Does anything fuel you that way?” Vince asked.

I let out a long exhale, my heart squeezing.

It felt so foolish to say the answer to that out loud.

Because when I thought of what made me feel passionate, it was creating content — editing videos, getting the perfect photograph, creating presets that, in turn, create an entire vibe.

I loved writing captions. I loved making something that went viral, that reached millions of people worldwide.

Right now, it was Vince Tanev and the Tampa Ospreys and hockey.

But maybe one day, it could be more.

Instead of saying any of that, I just shrugged.

Vince’s grip on me softened. “You don’t have to have it all figured out right now, you know?”

I nodded, but refrained from pointing out that he had it all figured out, and he was younger than me.

“What you do need,” he continued, moving to massage my neck again. “Is to relax.”

“Says the perfectionist.”

But my joke was cut short because Vince moved his hands from my neck into my hair, massaging the base of my skull .

I moaned, melting.

If his hands on my shoulders weren’t already enough to unravel me, feeling those massive fingers cradle my skull and massage my scalp was enough to make me spontaneously combust.

I couldn’t help but lean into the touch.

And in the process, my ass brushed against him, our skin connecting underwater and sparking an impossible fire.

Time stopped, Vince pausing only a moment before his hands were working again. I thought I heard him swallow, thought I heard his next breath come a bit more labored.

I didn’t pull away.

My heart thumped loud in my ears as we stayed like that, connected both with his hands in my hair and his thigh just barely brushing the bare skin of my ass.

And when his hands moved down, fingertips gliding over my shoulders before disappearing under the water, I felt him grow hard behind me, his erection pressing into the small of my back.

And still, I didn’t pull away.

Those fingertips danced down the span of my arms, gliding back up before they were on my back. He touched me so softly it was almost like he wasn’t touching me at all, and yet I couldn’t let out the breath lodged in my throat.

He nuzzled the space behind my ear with the tip of his nose as his hands slid down lower, fingertips drawing a circle around the dimples at the small of my back. They found my hips next, pulling me flush against him, letting me feel what I did to him.

His breath was in my ear, louder now, more unsteady.

He didn’t say a word as his fingers skated over the slim band of my thong, and then one hand pressed against my stomach as the other traveled farther up.

Just the tip of one finger slipped beneath the band of my bra, and his cock twitched against my back.

“Fuck,” he whispered.

The sound was so raw, an admission and a prayer all at once, and it rumbled through me. My nipples peaked, thighs clenching together at the jolt of electricity I felt from that one little word.

His hand slid up just a fraction of an inch more, pushing my bra out of the way. I wondered if he could feel how hard my heart was pounding, if I was trembling as much as I felt like I was.

I held my breath, angling my chin toward him until I could taste his exhales. The tip of his nose ran along the back of my jaw, and just as he gently, barely cupped my breast, his tongue snaked out and licked my earlobe.

“More champagne?”

I tore away from Vince as the stewardess’s voice pierced the heavy night air. I was on the other end of the hot tub by the time her smiling face rounded the corner, and she offered a glass to Vince, who declined, before I took one and downed it.

“Unfortunately, we had to turn around to head back into the harbor. There is some weather coming in that we weren’t expecting. But you have a little more time to enjoy the hot tub, if you wish.”

As soon as she left, I climbed out of the whirlpool, not bothering to ask Vince to turn away. I just grabbed one of the towels rolled up on a chair and covered myself with it before swiping my clothes off the deck and retreating inside.

In the bathroom, I composed myself as much as I could, which was to say not much. I stared at my reflection in the mirror, at my hair, wild from having Vince’s hands in it, and my eyes, rimmed with my mascara.

I was so wet I didn’t know how I was going to go commando without soaking through my slacks.

Red flags. Red flags everywhere and yet still, I burned for that man just like every other simpering puck bunny.

I was as angry at myself as I was turned on.

I still hadn’t completely caught my breath when I re-emerged on the deck, and we were already pulling into the harbor. Vince was dressed, too, his hands in his pockets as he watched me.

I had plans to stay on the opposite end of the deck from where he was, but he crossed it, sidling up next to where I was leaning over the railing and watching the city glide by.

“I like what you posted tonight,” he said, as if he didn’t just have his hard cock pressed against my back, as if he hadn’t just tasted my skin and palmed me under my bra. “The video, it was cool.”

I’d put together a mashup of the two away games, matching the explosive hits of him pummeling an opponent into the glass or stealing a pass with the beat of the music.

“Glad you like it,” I said, still a bit breathless.

“You should post a picture of us.”

That got my attention.

“Um…”

“Here,” he said, and before I could react, he had my phone in his hand. He held it out to me to unlock, which I did in a daze, and then he had Instagram pulled up, the screen reflecting us in selfie mode.

It was dark on the boat, but the lights from the city showed just enough of us to make up a grainy, golden image .

Vince threw his arm around me, pulling me into him. He was so massive, his arm hooked around me completely, shoulder over one of mine while his hand hooked the other.

“Don’t look so scared,” he whispered against my neck, watching our reflection on the screen.

I reached up, hooking my hands on his arm that was around me. His chin was on the crown of my head, his smirk sexy as hell, eyes like that of a leopard who just spotted his prey.

His extended arm captured all of it — me pulled into him, his arm holding me close, my hands curled into the sleeve of his jacket. The flash went off, and before I could even see the picture, Vince pulled away.

“What are you doing?” I asked, watching him walk across the deck, thumbing away on the keyboard.

“Posting it.”

“No one wants to see me. This is about you, remember?”

He didn’t reply as I followed him.

“What are you writing?”

He didn’t answer me, and he got a lucky break because the stews were getting us ready to dock and disembark. He slid my phone into the pocket of his jacket and didn’t give it to me until we were back in the car.

It was so late by the time we made it to the hotel, but the rooms were quiet enough that I assumed the rest of the team was still out on the town. There was no way they were asleep yet, not with nothing to do in the morning other than fly home.

“Goodnight,” I said to Vince when we made it to our rooms. I was already tapping my key card and opening my door when he just leaned against the frame of his, watching me .

I paused, arching a brow.

“You’ll be in my bed soon.”

My mouth parted at his words, and I blinked before letting out an incredulous laugh. Then, I let my door shut without going inside it, crossing to where Vince was, instead.

I folded my arms, lifting my chin high. “Never going to happen, Pigeon .”

He pushed to stand, invading my space so quickly I backed up and hit the wall in-between our doors. Vince stared down at me, a lazy smile on his lips.

“I can’t wait to make you eat your words.”

He pressed into me, just a little, just enough to make my breath catch. He reached up and trailed the back of his knuckles up the line of my jaw, tugging on my earlobe as if to remind me that his teeth had done the same tonight.

Then, he grinned wider, stepping away completely and unlocking his door.

“I love that face, by the way,” he said, glancing at where I was still frozen in place. “The one you make when you realize you’ve met your match.”

I didn’t think to check my phone when I made it inside. I was buzzing from his touch, mind and body on fire from the night’s events and how I felt about them. I was also exhausted , so much so that I barely washed my face before I fell into bed and let sleep take me under.

The next morning, I woke to a flurry of texts.

Reya: Camilla and I are freaking out over last night’s post. In the best way. Call me when you’re up!

Camilla: I smell an assignment extension… way to break the Internet! And every Tampa girl’s heart. ;)

Livia: Told you you were in trouble. Can you tell me I was right over a glass of red soon? I need details.

I clicked out of my best friend’s text with my heart hammering in my ears, pulling up Instagram next. I clicked on my profile picture, quickly tapping through the stories I’d posted of last night’s game until I came to the picture of me and Vince.

The image was so striking, I covered my mouth with one hand, staring at it in disbelief.

My eyes were a bit squinted from the flash, which just made me look sated, the smile on my lips subtle and soft.

My normally curly hair was styled in soft waves and blowing in the wind, fresh from the blowout I’d had done earlier in the afternoon.

Strands of it stuck to my lips, my hands clutching Vince’s arm tightly, fingertips curled into the fabric of his jacket.

And even though I knew that I’d just been tired, I looked like I’d just been freshly fucked.

And there was Vince behind me, wrapping me up like he owned me, his eyes low and sexy and commanding all of the camera’s attention.

His lips were pressed against my hair.

My chest tightened. How had I not noticed that?

But I didn’t focus on it long before I was gaping at the text overlaid on the screen.

night out celebrating with my girl

I clicked out of it, blinking, only to be hit with it in my feed.

The photo had already been picked up by ESPN, and they’d reposted it.

Sonofa bitch.