Adrian: An Ironfield Forge Hockey Romance

by Frost, Sosie

  That made one of us. I passed him the puck. “Before you become the most expensive disappointment in the league, you better figure your shit out.”

  I got the feeling nothing intimidated Beau—though nothing could motivate him either. He pulled off his glove to tousle his blonde hair before carefully tucking his helmet over his bedhead style.

  “I get that you’re looking out for me.” He twirled his stick. “But I’m not asking for any help.”

  “Prepared to fail all on your own?”

  “You think I need this practice?” Beau laughed. “If my contract didn’t mandate it, I’d be spending my time doing something useful.”

  “Like what?”

  “Can’t go wrong with a big-tittied blonde.”

  “You ruin your career, and those puck bunnies will find a man worth blowing.”

  “I’m not gonna fuck this up,” Beau said. “I’m too damned good.”

  The coaches blew their whistles. Mercifully, it silenced Beau as we lined up for the drill.

  The kid was faster than me, but I was never known for my speed. The years in the league had blessed me with experience, skill, and wisdom.

  I knew how to make shit happen on the ice.

  Hockey was a brutal, physical, unrelenting game, but it required more than skill or talent. A man needed finesse. Intuition. Creativity. Any player worth his number knew not to overestimate his own skill. Hard work and determination decided games—not overconfidence.

  The puck dropped, and instantly the rookie exploded from the center line. The puck floated over his stick as he glided across the ice with a maneuverability that would give opposing defensemen nightmares. I slid into his left wing and positioned myself just behind him.

  Cash tried his best to block Beau’s path. Did nothing. The kid’s greatest skill set came from his handling of the puck—so smooth and fluid it looked more like sleight of hand. Cash was better at slamming into opponents than wrestling for a puck. Didn’t surprise me that the old man got burned.

  And yet, for as good as Beau was, the drill was simple—which made it impossible for him.

  I peeled off before the net, ready for a pass that never came.

  Beau took the shot himself, slapping the puck into the net, dead center. So hard it might’ve bruised a goalie through his glove…had he been lucky enough to catch it.

  Impressive, but it was a bad omen of things to come.

  The coaches bitched from center line, blowing their whistles, but I reached Beau first, sliding to a stop inches from his chest.

  “You better learn how to pass before the season starts.” I warned him.

  Shouldn’t have wasted my breath. Beau simply laughed.

  “Why? No sense in passing when I can just take the shot myself.”

  “There’s four other guys on the line with you,” I said.

  “Hopefully they can keep up.”

  I kept the coaches at bay with a raised glove. “Go get the puck. We’re doing the drill again—correctly.”

  “No.”

  “Get the puck.”

  “Why?”

  “Because rookies get the pucks.”

  Beau’s voice dropped. “Not this rookie. The Forge should be on their knees, thanking God for the opportunity to sign me. I’ll make the plays. I’ll score the goals. I’ll win the games.” He dared to poke my chest. “But I won’t get the pucks.”

  “Then you better get used to sitting on the bench.”

  “You mean, where you spent the playoffs?” He sized me up but wisely backed off before making an even bigger mistake. “Wouldn’t want to take your spot…Captain.”

  He skated away, ignoring the coaches while heading for the locker room.

  Cash joined my side, practicing his stick-work with a couple toe-drags as he waited for the coaches to implode.

  “Technically, it is the preseason,” he said. “I won’t get in trouble if I smack him into the boards.”

  “No, but you’d probably get arrested.”

  “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

  “Might be your last time,” I said. “Times are changing, Cash. You’ve gotta change too. Couple more dirty hits, and your ass will get bounced from the league.”

  “Why do you think I landed in Ironfield?” He avoided the next series of drills and skated me across the rink. “This is my last stop. Most of the defensive core could say the same.”

  “You noticed that too?”

  “Either the Forge believes in second chances…”

  I took some water from a passing trainer and squirted half the bottle over my face. “Or they know exactly what they’re doing.”

  Loading the team with bruisers, grinders, and men on literal thin ice with the league and the new rule system? Sure as hell seemed like the management intended the team’s defensive strategy to consist of violent, questionable hits.

  Wasn’t the way I would’ve drafted my team.

  “Gotta work on my stick-handling,” Cash said. “While doing what I can to teach the loudmouth rookie how to behave with the adults.”

  “You’re gonna hit him?”

  Cash’s grin was a rare sight since his divorce. “Oh, most definitely.”

  “No blood.”

  “No promises.”

  The whistles blew again, and I rejoined the team, stealing a puck from another player as he paused to take a drink. I skated toward the other net, blending in with the other five forwards who had agreed to participate in the pre-season workout.

  Unfortunately, the men were distracted.

  No fucking wonder.

  Clover had migrated to the bench, leaning against the walkway to the tunnel as she watched the practice unfold. She waved at me and offered me a hook-from-behind, elbow-to-the-face smile. The sort that would roll steam over the chill of the ice.

  Fuck me, the woman was beautiful.

  And watching.

  Cheering me on while nibbling her bottom lip, a lip that had tasted of honey and cream and perfection…

  My worst mistake was allowing a creature that lovely so near the ice.

  I didn’t see the opposing drill. Two of my teammates collided into me. They swore. I shouted.

  And a wayward stick flailed through the air, sliced between my legs, and whacked against my cup.

  Fortunately, my thigh took the brunt of the strike.

  Unfortunately, it still hurt like a motherfucker.

  My skates tangled in theirs, and I crashed to the ice, spiraling across the rink before slamming into the bench beneath a wide-eyed Clover.

  “Sorry, cap!” An apology echoed across the arena.

  The coaches panicked, blowing their whistles as the trainers did their best to waddle across the blue line in their tennis shoes.

  I waved them away. “I’m fine. This is why Lord Stanley invented pads.”

  Cash skated by anyway, offering me his hand. He grinned at Clover as I caught my breath and patted the goods to check that my personal pucks were in place and not in pieces.

  “If you’re gonna fuck her, do it now before the devil rises up and bites the damn things off,” he said.

  Clover sighed as he skated away. “Nice to see you too, Cash.”

  Christ.

  He was right.

  How many times could my balls flash before my eyes before a man had to take some drastic action?

  Clover knew not to fuss in front of the team, but that didn’t stop her fingers from nervously twisting in her skirt. “You know how to entertain a girl, that’s for sure.”

  I hauled myself onto the half-wall. “I live to serve.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Almost got neutered. Again.”

  “Should be getting used to that by now.”

  “Maybe the universe is telling me something?”

  Clover’s damned smile was distracting, but leaning against the bench, I had a perfect view of her Honey Bs just barely contained by her blouse. The tight-fitting skirt was an amazing invention. It hug
ged her thighs and left just enough to the imagination to pretend the outfit passed as professional.

  Made it hard for a player to concentrate on anything but the stick in his pants, let alone the one in his hand.

  “How can I help?” she asked.

  “You offering to kiss it and make it better?”

  I should’ve known better than to flirt.

  Clover arched a telling eyebrow. “Tell you what. I’ve got five minutes before I leave for the airport. Drop your pants.”

  “You’d have quite a bit of padding to get through first.”

  “I don’t mind a little hard work, do you?”

  Never did before.

  But what the hell did it mean now?

  My legs ached. The stick probably left a welt. Wouldn’t be my first bruise, but I was getting protective of the area.

  And yet, the universe still tried to fuck me.

  I knew when I’d been licked—though I’d hoped it would’ve been Clover’s sweet kiss and not vengeful fate guiding me toward my ultimate decision.

  But my instincts had never been wrong before, especially when taking care of Clover. If she wanted to get pregnant…

  Fine. Better to do it now, while my luck was turning. Who knew how long I had until fate decided I couldn’t be the bastard to give her a baby?

  “When will you be ready for me?” I asked.

  “Are you sure?”

  “If you knew how many times life attempted to guillotine my royal family today, you’d realize how serious I am.”

  The woman practically tumbled over the half-wall and onto the ice. She excitedly counted on her fingers.

  “We can try this month,” she said. “About twelve days from now?”

  Jesus. And I thought the hit knocked the air out of me. “That’s soon.”

  “Not soon enough. Adrian, you have no idea what this means to me.”

  Of course I did. She thought she needed a baby to be happy. And I swore I’d do whatever it took to take care of her.

  Getting laid was an easy decision.

  But convincing myself I was doing the right thing?

  That choice was as hard as my cock.

  6

  Clover

  Adrian tested my blindfold with a gentle tug on the knot.

  “No peeking…” He warned.

  A thrill teased my spine. “I wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise.”

  “I hope you like it big.”

  I did, but I wasn’t a greedy girl. “Size isn’t everything, Adrian.”

  “Christ, you are naïve.”

  His fingers threaded through mine, and the familiar warmth of his touch hummed through every part of me. It was a new, dangerous sensation. It promised something addictive and intoxicating. Something just wild enough to chase away those pesky, lingering doubts.

  Adrian’s hand was massive—a thick paw of strength and security. He pressed against my lower back and guided my timid steps into the warm sunshine. His body remained close. Inches away. The breeze enveloped me with his familiar scent. Something so masculine and nostalgic and so strong. Old-fashioned maybe. The sort of scent they didn’t make for men anymore. I fought the urge to gulp it down and drink it all up.

  But he urged me forward, too proud of his little game to let me stray from his hand. Then again, this was a momentous day. It meant so much to both of us that every little detail had to be right. We needed to remember this beginning, this new start. Everything changed after this.

  “All this ceremony for me?” I asked.

  His breath tickled just above my ear, a masculine chuckle reminding me that he was in charge. “I wanted to make this memorable and impress you.”

  “You’ve never disappointed me before.”

  “And I won’t start now.”

  But the anticipation was killing me. “Then let me see it.”

  I resisted every urge to wiggle backwards into his solid wall of practiced, hard-earned muscles. His voice lowered to a perfect growl.

  “You think you can handle it?”

  Oh, what did he want from me? “I stayed up all night thinking about this. Don’t keep a girl waiting.”

  “Maybe I want you to beg for it.”

  I could hear the smile in his voice. “Never knew you’d be such a tease.”

  “I only tease the good things.”

  “How would you like me then? Should I beg on my knees?”

  “Don’t tempt me…” Adrian tugged the blindfold away, and the bright sunlight stole my vision. “It’d be hard to tour my brand-new house from your knees…though it might be more exciting for me.”

  I blinked hard and rubbed my eyes.

  I’d never seen anything so gorgeous in my entire life.

  “You have a hot tub!”

  My squeal pierced the afternoon, echoing across the beautiful expanse of Adrian’s new backyard.

  The hot tub was integrated with his monstrous pool, an in-ground behemoth of style, elegance, and shimmering blue tile.

  It was the greatest thing I’d ever seen in my life—and that included the stunning house which came with it.

  Adrian wasn’t the sort of guy who cared about money, fancy houses, or ritzy amenities. And yet, he’d scored an unbelievable home, tucked away on a private road in a gated subdivision. It sat like a castle on a hill…

  And I’d get to be Queen of the Hot Tub.

  “It’s got about ten acres surrounding it.” Adrian surveyed his land as if he didn’t see the greatest feature of his home directly in front of him. Beautiful tile. Molded seats. Superheated water gently bubbling.

  “You don’t need ten acres,” I said. “You never need to leave this very spot.”

  He smirked. “You should see my new media room.”

  “Are you not hearing me?” I crossed the sun-kissed patio—a maze of outdoor kitchens, dining areas, and enough seating to house the entire team around the shimmering pool. “You have a hot tub!”

  “You know this house comes with more than hot water…”

  He attempted to guide me toward his new home. And while the Tuscan craftsmanship with its light stone masonry was impressive, my only goal in life was to get my booty in that water.

  “It came with an indoor gym,” he said. “And it was tennis, volleyball, racquetball, and basketball courts. If you look passed that rose garden? Yeah. That’s enough room for me to put in a private ice rink.”

  “Why don’t you just move into a Planet Fitness?”

  “Would’ve been cheaper.”

  “But not nearly as beautiful…”

  The hot tub called to me.

  Four grueling days.

  Ten flights.

  Over one thousand drinks served.

  And I was finally back on the ground.

  I’d been hit on, spit on, threatened, and ignored.

  I’d earned a lump the size of a nickel after a piece of carry-on luggage bounced out of the overhead compartment and crashed onto my forehead, breaking the lock and scattering an older lady’s scandalously secret life across the aisles.

  Who knew one seventy-year-old retired grandma could make a living as a dominatrix, and that she could haul her garters, whips, and various plugs through airport security? Though the real shock was how many new customers she’d earned for herself between Dallas and Seattle. Flying the friendly skies meant nothing when more than a few men were itches for a little cruelty in the clouds.

  After such a long shift, every bone in my body ached. My sensible heels had cracked on landing in Newark, and my brain convinced my body that it was actually four in the morning.

  The only thing I wanted more than a baby was an opportunity to belly flop in the hot tub and stay there until my skin pruned up.

  Adrian redirected my attention to his lovely house, pointing toward various features, columns, and imported tiles.

  I gave him one half-hearted uh-huh as I slipped out of my shoes.

  “It’s all Italian or something…” He rubbed his beard
as he studied the stones. “I didn’t really understand it. Mama Mia Marble in the kitchen and some pepperoni porcelain in the bathroom. But it is a step up from the old apartment in Atwood.”

  “Was that an apartment? I thought it was an oversized laundry basket.”

  “Wasn’t that bad.”

  “Not everything has to smell like a locker room, Adrian.”

  “Well, this house won’t. Hired a maid. Also got an interior decorator. This is how the captain of a professional hockey team should be living, right?”

  Poor guy. Adrian was a simple guy with simple needs. Jeans in his closet. A hidden box of Goldfish crackers stashed behind his couch. Hotel soaps in his bathroom since he showered at practice and always forgot to stock up on the amenities at home.

  I doubted he really cared for the floor-to-ceiling windows, granite countertops, or imported tiles. The man had a talent for sleeping anywhere without complaint. He’d camped on the floor beside my bed when I’d been smacked by the flu, and he’d napped smooshed against the window seat on a loaded plane, waiting for us to land so we could grab a cup of coffee at the airport Starbucks during an hour layover.

  The man really only needed food in his belly and a breakaway shot on goal to be truly happy.

  “It’s got a couple extra rooms too…” Adrian cleared his throat. “You know. For kids. If you want to have that conversation.”

  I did…and I didn’t.

  Not now. Not when my tensed, overworked muscles wanted to shred off my weary bones like a shucked ear of corn.

  I dipped my toes into the hot tub.

  And that was as close to orgasm as I’d been in weeks.

  Adrian knew he’d been beat. “So much for my tour. You’re not going any further than the backyard, are you?”

  “Nope.”

  “You wanna get in?”

  More than I wanted to take my next breath. “I do…but I don’t have a swimsuit with me.”

  Then again…

  I peeked over my shoulders, toward either end of the house.

  Who was around to stop me?

  Adrian’s new home was secluded, private, and free of any prying eyes. Ten acres separated my potentially bad idea from any witnesses.

  “Unless…” I bit my lip. “Do you wanna do something really bad?”