Page 33 of Twisted Play (Cruel Games #1)

ALEKSANDR

One of the benefits of coaching a world class university hockey team, other than working in the game I loved, was access to world class physical therapy.

Not that it mattered—sixteen years of pain had taught me that nothing would fully heal what Conrad Jackson had done when he’d slammed that metal pipe into my knee, permanently injuring me and ending my NHL career.

There wasn’t a day that went by when I didn’t remember it, especially when the weather was changing in early fall.

One of the university’s physical therapists massaged my quad, running strong fingers up and down my leg.

“How’s that feel, Coach?”

I gritted my teeth against the pain as he worked the knots out of my tight muscles. “Fine.”

“Eva,” Dr. Parker called. My muscles tensed at the name.

“Yes, doc?” She looked up from notes she’d been taking on the other side of the room, tracking our players’ mobility and recovery. I hated that she was good at her job—her recent analysis of stretching and recovery time had been fucking brilliant, not that I’d tell her that .

“Come over here and look,” Dr. Parker said.

Eva stood then turned and bent to set her laptop on her chair. I stifled a groan at the sight of that fleshy ass, presented to me like a fucking cake.

She approached cautiously, as if she were prey before a predator. Good. She should be afraid.

“Look at how Dieudonné is working Coach’s thigh before he approaches the kneecap.”

Dieudonné was worse than useless. His hands were clumsy—rough where they should be gentle, tentative where they should be firm. I fucking hated having an audience for this shit.

“Do you mind if Eva takes a turn?” Dr. Parker asked me. Fuck. No, I didn’t mind if this gorgeous woman put her hands on me.

A flash of vulnerability crossed Eva’s face before she locked it down. Her control, in turn, astounded me and made me want to shatter it completely.

Tentatively, Eva placed her hands on my thigh, her fingers burning through my athletic clothing, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her small, warm hands.

Dieudonné placed his hands on top of hers, and possessive rage surged through me.

I wanted to rip him off her, break every finger that dared touch what was mine.

Daughter of my enemy, instrument of revenge—it didn’t matter. Eva was mine to ruin and no one else’s.

“Don’t be shy,” Dr. Parker told her when she remained still. “You’ve done this before.”

Together, Eva and Dieudonné methodically worked their way down my quad, her fingers finding knots I hadn’t even known were there.

She wouldn’t look at me, instead focusing on my leg, her breath coming out in soft pants that sent heat straight to my cock.

That sweet vanilla scent of hers teased me every time she leaned close.

Was she scared of me? Her uneven breathing and the pulse I could see hammering in her throat said yes. Good. She should be.

Dieudonné stepped back, observing Eva as she worked, then moved away to work on another patient.

“Deeper,” Dr. Parker instructed Eva.

She dug her thumb into a sore spot, and pain shot through me. Fuck! I jerked my leg back and glared at her. She raised her hands, as if she needed to show me she was unarmed and no longer touching me, and something dark unfurled in my chest.

“Ouch,” I snapped, as affected by her show of surrender as the pain.

Eva flushed and took a step back. My fingers clenched beside me on the raised bed as I resisted the urge to drag her back to me.

“Keep going,” Dr. Parker encouraged her, ignoring my glare. “Fingers on the knee—slide your fingers up and down his kneecap,” she continued before walking off again to look at another patient.

Eva’s touch turned featherlight, almost reverent as she worked the scar tissue around my ruined knee.

How dare she be so gentle. How dare her father’s daughter try to heal what he’d destroyed.

And how dare my body respond to her like this, my cock hardening with every stroke of those delicate fingers.

“Why are you here?” I growled to break the spell she wove over me. No student would endure what I put her through just for a job. There had to be more.

Her green eyes flashed to mine, fear flickering in their depths before returning to my knee, where the delicate strokes of her fingers burned fire into my skin. “Because it’s my job.”

“Why here?” I caught her wrist in my hand, squeezing until her fingers stilled. “Why this team? Why now?”

“I want to practice sports medicine,” she answered, her voice steady even as her pulse raced under my grip. She continued to work my knee with her other hand, as if my touch didn’t affect her at all.

“Bullshit.” I released her wrist and sat up, my eyes on her face. “A smart girl like you could have found a position anywhere, one that didn’t require—” I cut myself off, reluctant to state what I made her do out loud.

Instead of answering me, she dug her thumbs into the side of my knee, gently, and then worked her way over the kneecap, never pushing hard, just gentle touches that felt so fucking good, I wanted to loll my head back and enjoy it.

Instead, I let my pleasure coalesce into bitter disgust for this woman who wanted to help athletes when her father had done so much damage to me.

I had to hate her, lest my obsession consume me.

Dr. Parker hummed her approval of Eva’s work. “Finish that knee then move on to his left quad, then his left knee,” she instructed before pulling the PT trainee off to look at someone else.

“Did you ever play hockey?” I asked her, taking advantage of her forced proximity to satisfy my curiosity. “You’re competent on skates.”

Eva sighed. “No.”

“Because—” I gestured at her body, knowing it was a dick move and doing it anyway.

She flushed. “Because I’m clumsy, have terrible hand-eye coordination, and I don’t know, because I had open heart surgery last year and I’m fucking terrified my heart will stop if I do it,” she snapped. “But thanks for reminding me I’m fat too.”

The hurt in her voice made me feel like shit. Then I reminded myself I wanted her to suffer.

She reached down to wrap one hand around my ankle and pushed it toward me, bending my knee. “How’s that feel?”

“Better,” I admitted begrudgingly.

“Good.”

Without another word, she moved to my other side and arranged my leg so she could massage my quad. Her fear was so delicious, I felt my cock stir when her hands touched my thigh.

Her delicate fingers stroked over my leg, digging into the muscles and releasing the tension I held there.

“This leg isn’t injured,” I muttered, well aware I overcompensated with it, as desperate for her to take her hands off me as I was to keep them there.

“Doc told me to do it, so I’m going to do it,” Eva snapped at me. Her shoulders were hunched with tension, and her jaw set, but her hands moved with surety over my muscles.

“Such a good girl, doing exactly as she’s told,” I murmured, quietly enough that nobody but Eva could hear me.

Her eyes were full of fire. “I know you’re a hotshot coach and all, but some of us need these jobs. If I don’t work, I don’t eat, and my father doesn’t eat, so yeah, I’m gonna do as I’m told. I can’t afford to lose this job.”

The thought of her going hungry twisted uncomfortably in my chest. This wasn’t part of the plan. Her suffering was supposed to bring me pleasure, not whatever this feeling was.

She dug her thumb into my muscle, and the pain took my breath away until the knot melted, leaving relaxation in its wake. I watched her as she worked, her curls pulled up into a messy bun on top of her head, and I fought the urge to pull on one and unravel her completely.

“And what would you do to keep it?” I asked, my voice low and dangerous, even though I already knew.

Her fingers dug into my thigh, hard enough to bruise. “Don’t,” she whispered, but she didn’t stop her methodical strokes. Such perfect obedience, even in her resistance. It made me want to push harder, see how far she’d bend before breaking.

Eva leaned over me, running her fingers across my kneecap through the fabric of my pants. The gentle scrape of her nails sent electricity crackling up my spine.

“Why are you here?” she asked finally.

“I’m the hockey coach,” I answered dryly.

“I mean, here, in Dr. Parker’s clinic. Surely you can afford private physical therapy.”

I hadn’t wasted my NHL winnings before my injury, and smart investments, both legal and illegal, provided a much higher level of comfort than my coach’s salary.

“Dr. Parker’s the best sports physician in the country, and her team of PTs is fantastic, even if it means occasionally submitting to the clumsy hands of students.” Even if I didn’t agree with how highly she prioritized individual students instead of the team.

Eva flushed at my words, though I hadn’t meant them to specifically wound her. “Dr. Parker’s a great teacher,” Eva murmured, her fingers still moving in those maddening circles.

“And yet, you’re constantly late for practice, you miss sessions, and you’re a distraction to my players.” Hypocrite. She was a distraction to me too .

Her breath caught, but she didn’t look up. Instead, she smoothed her thumbs over my kneecap, gently pressing and releasing the tension from the muscles on the sides. “Your players are persistent,” she murmured.

“Puck bunnies are a dime a dozen.” They were, but she wasn’t one of them. Eva was fucking special, and everyone on the team knew it. “They’ll tire of you eventually.”

Eva snorted—with amusement or derision, I couldn’t tell.

“The good news is, you’re not their type.”

Eva stepped away abruptly. “You’ve said that before, and I’d like you to clarify what you mean by that.”

I couldn’t tell her the truth—that even though Tristan and Cole had never shied away from puck bunnies before, it was her innocence that drew them—drew me—in like moths to flame.

That her curves begged for me to bruise them, that those plump lips were made for sucking cock, and that every movement of that lush body made me want to bend her over the nearest surface and fuck her until she screamed.

That my cruel words were a way of pushing her away, of pretending I didn’t want to taste every fucking inch of her.

Even more than that, I couldn’t tell her how fascinating I found her desperate need to please, her willingness to submit to keep this job.

What secrets was she hiding? What would she do if I threatened to take away the position she so clearly needed?

The thought of her on her knees, begging to keep her job, sent heat straight to my cock.

She had her father’s green eyes, but where his had been cold with cruelty, hers burned with determination. It made me want to break her slowly, piece by piece, until that fire sputtered out .

She waited for my answer, cheeks flushed with anger, until Dr. Parker’s return broke the tension. “All done here?”

“Yes,” I snapped, grateful for the interruption.

“Eva?” Dr. Parker asked, apparently sensing my annoyance in my tone.

“All done, Dr. Parker.” Her face was once again cheerful and bland, a perfect student, ready to do her duty, eager for the next challenge—a perfect mask over the fury inside her.

I wanted to bring that fury out and use it to immolate everything she loved and cared for.

Starting with her father.