Page 12

TEN

DANIEL

My attitude is shit right now. Hell, my attitude has been shit for weeks. Since Arizona. “ Fuck .”

I slap my locker and wince as the metal reverberates. The need to release this energy is almost unbearable.

Beside me, Aiden kicks his skates off and offers a similar curse.

“I know you’re all tired,” Gavin starts.

He strides into the locker room, ready to give us the chat. The one where he tells us he’s disappointed and he knows we’re all disappointed. That we played like shit and we can do better. The it’s not over until it’s over monologue he has to give because he’s our coach and he owns the team and he can’t control any of it because he didn’t play like shit today. He’s here to tell us we can do this, that he believes in us. That we should trust him when he says it.

But with a look around the locker room, it’s more than obvious that as a whole, we agree this season is a loss. We’re down 3-1 in this round. If we don’t pull off a win on the road this week, we’re done.

It’s a sad fucking state of affairs, yet I can’t be bothered to listen to him. Already, I’m focused on finding another way to release this energy. Something I’m actually good at.

Which apparently isn’t sex. Fuck, I can’t even look at my dick without blowing a gasket. The piece-of-shit appendage made me fucking cry the last time I used it.

Yes, my dick is in dick jail. He hasn’t been given even the tiniest bit of love. I knew I shouldn’t have let him out to play that night. Fuck, I should have taken things slower. I’d told myself I would. And if I had, maybe I could have had a chance at more than one night with Hannah. By now, maybe he’d be sleeping snuggly inside her warm cunt night after night. And I wouldn’t be so fucking irate.

I’d never cried during sex before. But that night, the feelings got the best of me. And no, I don’t mean emotionally. I mean the fact that my dick was so fucking sensitive from the piercings that it was this pleasurable pain that I couldn’t wrap my fucking head around. It felt incredible and hurt at the same time. And okay, maybe I got slightly emotional over knowing I was finally getting a chance with her . Because she’s Hannah. My fucking dream girl. And I fucking blew it.

I pound my fist against the locker again, this time hard enough to send pain radiating up my arm.

“Enough.” War puts a hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “We’re all going out.”

“You’re going out?” Snow says from my other side, brows pinched.

He’s probably as surprised as I am that War would even suggest it. Since he and Ava got married, he’s been a complete homebody. I’d do the same too if I had a wife and kids at home. They’ve probably got much better attitudes than the rest of his team does lately.

“We’re all going out.” War scans the room, locking eyes with each guy, before turning back to me, his expression hardening. “I know we shouldn’t be celebrating, but we need this. We need to remember how to have fun again.” He lifts his chin to Noah. “We need the chemistry back.”

I’d like to say that his comment makes me feel a modicum better. That maybe he realizes that since Gavin fucked with the lineup, we’ve been doomed. But I know I wouldn’t have been playing any better than Noah has in his position with War and Aiden. None of us are playing like we should, and it’s time I get my head out of my ass and take some responsibility for that.

“Fine. But you’re buying.” I toss the last of my gear into the locker and stalk toward the shower.

Dad: Sorry about the game tonight. You’ll get the win in Detroit, though, and bring it back home to finish it out.

With a shake of my head, I pick up my whiskey. If I were a betting man, I’d put money on our season ending in Detroit. And there’s nothing like losing on another team’s ice and having to deal with their happy fans and then all the travel home.

Though losing at home isn’t a whole lot better. Letting down our fans is always tough. So is facing the staff who work all year to keep the arena running, win or lose. Yeah. Losing sucks no matter where it happens.

Me: Thanks. We’re all at Ground Zero. War says we need to work on our team chemistry.

Ground Zero is a private bar tucked away beneath Langfield corporate offices. It can only be accessed by the underground tunnels that link the arena to the baseball stadium. It’s reserved for players and staff and their guests only. A haven where we can relax without being hounded by the media. A spot free of bunnies and fans trying to get a piece of us.

Not that I’m feeling very relaxed now.

Dad: Good. Relax. Enjoy. And then get your head back into it. Only a few weeks left of the season. Make them count. But no matter what, I’m proud of you.

I blow out a rough breath to ease the tightness in my chest. I haven’t done a whole hell of a lot to boast about, but my dad has always been proud. So many of the guys on my team have shit relationships with their families, but that’s never been my issue.

My dad is one of my best friends and my biggest supporter. I truly wouldn’t be where I am today without him. He might stick his nose in my business a little too often, and he and my mom may not have a whole lot of love for one another, but he’s always made time for me. He dedicated far more time and showed far more interest in my life than I can even fathom giving to another human. When I was a kid, he was the one driving me to hockey practices. In college, he’d attend as many games as he could. Now that I’m playing for the Bolts, that hasn’t changed, and more often than not, he’s right here with me after a game. Our whole lives, he’s treated us as if we’re his entire world.

Until he married Lake, he really never did anything for himself.

Now, seeing him with my youngest brother, Nash, his child with Lake, it’s clear he was made for this role.

Me: thanks. I’ll call you when I head to the airport tomorrow.

I slip my phone into my pocket and focus on the guys around me. Despite War’s intentions, there’s no laughter. Hell, the group is barely conversing at all.

Determined to get my shit together and help War turn the night around, I straighten and take a quick drink of my whiskey. As I’m lowering my glass, Hannah walks into the bar flanked by Lennox and Sara. Mills probably won’t be here. Ava either, since they have kids. But fuck, I wish my sister had shown up with them. At least then I’d have an excuse to go over and say hello.

I haven’t seen Hannah since that night, and I’ve yet to figure out how to get back to the banter we used to fall into without making things awkward.

My mouth waters at the sight of her. She’s wearing the same thing she wore the night of our date, a Bolts jersey and tight black pants. She’s got on a Bolts beanie that says Brooks’s Puck Bunny . Yeah, in any other circumstance, that would send me spiraling, her wearing another man’s name, but Sara made the hats a couple of years ago, back when she and Brooks were only fake dating, as a joke, so I let it go.

With pouty red lips and a big smile on her face, she’s just as gorgeous as the last time I saw her. Only now I know the way those lips feel against mine.

“Let’s do a shot.” Camden pushes a shot glass filled to the brim with tequila at me.

Head lowered, I pick up the drink. I’ve got to figure out what the hell to say to her. With a quick inhale, I toss the tequila back, relishing the way it burns.

I look back up at Hannah, now turned away from me, and inhale so sharply I choke on air. What the fuck? There, on the back of her jersey, is the number sixty-nine—not eighteen—and Harrison is emblazoned across her shoulders in big white lettering.

Why the fuck is she wearing Noah’s jersey?

Also, I’m pretty sure Gavin gave Noah that number just to fuck with me. It’s not the number he wore for his previous team, and worse, it’s the number I specifically requested when I first signed with the team and was denied.

Fucker.

I slam the glass onto the bar, and before I can think better of it, I’m moving.

Jealous rage has me acting blindly.

Maybe this is good. This way, I won’t have the chance to bumble through an apology or act awkward.

Without pausing, I clutch her arm and pull her away from her friends.

“What the?—”

When I glare at her over my shoulder, she snaps her mouth shut, and rather than fight me, she allows me to drag her along.

Where the fuck do I go from here? Not the locker room. Not the arena, where the janitorial staff is surely all over the place.

I settle for a closet near the entrance to the bar.

It’s a small space, but there’s nothing actually in it. No coats, no cleaning supplies. Just an empty supply closet. Thank fuck.

When the door snicks shut behind us, we’re blanketed in darkness. “ Daniel .” My name is a whisper on her lips, and fuck, do I like the way it sounds.

I grasp her hips, and when she doesn’t push back, my heart thumps. There’s no snarky comment. No feisty attitude. Hell, she doesn’t even seem pissed. If anything, she’s surprised. I know I sure as fuck am. “Dream girl, what are you doing to me?”

She tilts her head, her lips turning down a fraction. “What?”

“The jersey. I get that I screwed up that night, but fuck , seeing you in his number? Was it really that bad?”

Fingers tangled in the front of my shirt, she pulls me closer. As my eyes adjust to the dark, I can just make out her facial features. “You smell like tequila, Baby Hall.”

“Don’t Baby Hall me. Tell me what I can do to make it up to you. Tell me it’s not too late for us.”

She licks her bottom lip and loosens her hold on me. “There is no us.” The words are whispered. Like she doesn’t actually believe them.

That’s all the encouragement I need to grasp her upper arms and squeeze.

“There could be. Give me another shot. Let me make you feel good. And then promise me you’ll never wear his jersey again.”

She sighs. “This is a bad idea.”

It’s just enough of an opening for me to take a step closer. I run my nose against her neck and inhale her. “Nothing could be a bad idea when you’re this close.” I press a kiss to her collarbone, and her breath catches in her throat. Her pulse flutters at the base of her neck, calling to me, so I trace it with my tongue.

She hisses out a breath. “ Daniel. ”

“Every time you say my name in that raspy tone, I die a little from being unable to touch you,” I murmur in her ear. “ Let me touch you .”

Clutching my shirt tighter again, she sets those pretty blue eyes on my face, studying me. What looks like a thousand thoughts war in her mind. Though I only have one. Getting another shot. Convincing her we’re right for one another. Making her come. Okay, so that’s at least three, but they all end up the same way: with me inside her, again and again. It’s like she reads my thoughts, because her eyes light up and the look of consideration fades. Her chest rises and falls, and she mumbles, “fuck it” before tugging me closer and finally setting her lips on mine.

For a moment everything else fades away. Hockey, the playoffs, the shit season I’ve had, the even shittier mood I’ve been in. My stomach swoops and my heart jumps. It’s like her kiss set a defibrillator to my life. Cuffing the back of her neck, I pull her closer and explore her mouth. The way she tastes, the soft whimpers that she breathes against my lips. The tongue that stars in every fantasy I’ve had for at least the last year.

“Need this off you,” I rasp against her mouth as we stumble deeper into the closet.

As I yank the jersey over her head, she slips her thumbs into her waistband. And while she’s stepping out of her pants, I back up and undress just as quickly. It isn’t until my pants are off that I remember that my wallet is in the pocket of my suit jacket. And my suit jacket is sitting on the back of the chair. “Fuck, I don’t have a condom.”

She shakes her head as she shimmies out of her bra. “It’s fine. You’re safe, right?”

I nod, zeroed in on her perfect tits. “Haven’t been with anyone since you.”

She rolls her eyes and mutters, “Same.”

That’s enough for me. I’ve got a one-track mind, and all I can think about is fucking her against the wall. About how I’ll make her come at least three times. I owe her that and then some.

The next time my dream girl writes a damn column, it’ll be about how I rearranged her insides, not about how disappointing tonight was.

I hiss when I grasp my rock-hard dick and give it a single pump, drinking Hannah in.

“You’re so perfect.”

She cocks her head. “I’d like to say you are too, but I’ve gotta see how that pretty dick works me over this time before I commit to that.”

I chuckle darkly and take a step back, feet planted firmly shoulder-width apart. “Get on your knees and lube me up. We both know you want it.”

With a wicked grin, she drops to the floor. When her lips suction over the head of my dick with the most exquisite pressure, my head falls back against the door with a loud thud.

“Don’t come,” she taunts in a seductive-as-fuck voice. Then she’s lapping at me again.

Her mouth feels like heaven, and the vision of her, completely naked, eyes closed as she moans around my length, is sinful.

For a moment, I fall victim to her spell, mesmerized by the sight and sensations. Then she rolls her tongue over the crown of my cock, toying with my piercing, and my eyes roll to the back of my head. Not wanting to risk blowing my second chance—pun intended—and before she has the opportunity to taunt me again, I pull back, scoop her up under her arms, and press her against the wall. Once we’re both steady, I line us up and slam into her.

“Holy shit!” she hisses, clenching around me.

I squeeze my eyes shut, willing myself to last. I’ve never been inside a woman bare. Never would have considered it with anyone else.

But with Hannah? “Fuck, I could live inside you. I may just give up hockey and become your personal fuck toy.”

Her loud, raspy laugh rings out in the small space, and she spasms around me again. “Don’t tempt me, Playboy.” Then her lips are on mine again.

Heart hammering, I lick into her mouth, savoring her as I roll my hips in a steady rhythm. There’s never been a moment more perfect than this one. Fucking against a wall is always a challenge. It takes strength and balance I’ve honed during my years playing hockey. But I’m not trying for easy tonight. The adrenaline from my jealous anger is still pulsing through me, and with each thrust, I expend a little more of the pent-up anxiety.

“You’re so goddamn tight, Han.” Dammit, I have to distract myself from the unreal sensation of her tight pussy swallowing me up. Is she doing Kegel exercises? Timing them to each of my thrusts? Because I’m so damn close to coming already. And fuck if I’ll make that mistake again.

I walk across the tiny space and balance her against a small shelf on the opposite wall. With one hand freed up, I get to work circling her clit.

“Oh, right there,” she hisses, spasming even tighter.

I groan at the torturous flood of desire sweeping over me. “Look down, baby.”

“Holy fuck. Look at how gorgeous your cock looks as my pussy sucks it in.”

“Shit, Han. Your dirty talk.”

Those plump lips of hers lift in a devious smile and her blue eyes glitter with excitement. “I want you to fill me with your cum. Make me your little cum slut.”

Holy fuck. My balls tighten, and my hearing goes hazy. “Dream girl, you’re going to need to come right the fuck now,” I grit out.

“You going to come for me, Baby Hall? You’re so beautiful when you do.” Her voice is like whiskey, smooth and sensual, washing over me as my orgasm crests.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. “You don’t play fair.”

Hannah laughs, the move making her pulse around me. “No, I really don’t.” She smacks my hand away and brings her own fingers to that swollen bundle of nerves. Her head falls back, and she lets out the most beautiful whimper. “Fuck me, Daniel.”

With both hands on her hips, I do just that, pumping into her until she’s shuddering and spasming rhythmically and I’m coming in long waves.

When I can finally feel my toes again, I press a kiss to her lips. “Fuck, you are the best sex I’ve ever had.”

Head lolled back against the wall, she pants. “I think you got me pregnant.”

I laugh as I ease out of her, making sure she’s steady before I bend to pick up her clothes. “I got really deep, didn’t I? Fuck, I can’t wait to take you home and do it again.”

She grasps my arm and squeezes, gesturing for me to stand back up. “I’m serious, Daniel. I haven’t gotten my period. I think I’m pregnant.”