Adrian: An Ironfield Forge Hockey Romance

by Frost, Sosie

  “So, it’s okay when you screw around?” The woman screeched. Her boyfriend did his best to cover his ears and his black eye. “But when I have some fun, suddenly we’re back together?”

  Every whore had a silver lining. I nudged Adrian.

  “Good news.” I almost giggled. “Your luck is changing. The Forge has their first puck bunny!”

  And a destructive one at that.

  The woman had leveled the storage room. Broken glassware still tinked onto the floor. Somehow, she’d impaled one of her four-inch heels into the florescent light. And the guys had stolen three bottles of champagne which now showered everything in the room—cloth napkins to chairs, extra tables to pieces of artwork removed to make space for the Forge’s promotional photos.

  A bristling, overweight manager puffed his way into the chaos, tutting beneath a thick mustache as he struggled with a perpetually crooked tie. He surveyed the disaster and dove for the smoke detector. Too late. The screeching siren blared through the hotel.

  “What the hell is going on here?” His words blubbered as he stepped over the dozens of broken glasses and spare plates. “You’ve ruined it all! Who is she?”

  Beau flashed an impatient smile and elbowed Orion. “We thought this hotel was full-service.”

  Adrian silenced him with a grunt. He hauled his team into the hallway with a chastising profanity. Then he turned to the manager and offered his sincerest apology.

  Unfortunately, it fell on deaf ears—and not just because of the fire suppression system’s terrorizing siren.

  “They’ve had too much to drink.” Adrian shouted over the alarm. “I’ll take care of them.”

  “And who will take care of my hotel?” The manager panicked, bending down to grab fragments of dinnerware and ruined tablecloths which had been cast into the hall during the scuffle. He groaned as his eyes followed the giant rip in the hall’s wallpaper from vending machine to elevator. “This is outrageous!”

  Adrian removed a business card from his wallet and handed it to the man. “Call this number, ask for Leah Carson.”

  The man cupped a hand over his ear and shouted. “Who?”

  “She handles my…these sorts of issues. You give her a dollar amount for the damages, and I will pay it. No questions asked.”

  The manager stared at the card. “You’re kidding me, right?”

  I hoped he was. Between the new house—and the repairs to the new house after the party—and now a complete restoration of a damned hotel storage room? Adrian was losing money before he got on the ice to earn it.

  Blinking strobe lights flickered in time to the fire alarm. I covered my ears, but I could feel the shrieking in my fillings.

  “I’ll write you a check tomorrow, as long as you can promise that this is resolved,” Adrian said.

  The man flicked the card between his fingers. “What do you mean?”

  “It means we deal with this problem together. Only us. No media.”

  Might’ve been a good idea, but Beau snickered from across the hall. He’d ditched the tie—or maybe he didn’t own one. His shirt was untucked under the jacket. I hoped it was for comfort and not the result of the wrong sort of attention from an easy woman.

  “Hey, Captain.” Beau jerked his thumb down the hallway toward the irate waitress. “Not the manager you gotta worry about.”

  The woman postured in front of her phone, regaling any who would listen to her livestream about the drama-fueled saga of how her chauvinistic boyfriend interrupted her night out with three hockey players.

  Beau’s laugh wasn’t charming when it was at Adrian’s expense. “Don’t worry. She might’ve filmed you bribing that dude, but at least your dick isn’t hanging out.”

  Oh, Lord.

  Adrian pushed the business card into the manager’s chest. “Call that number. Immediately.”

  He grabbed my hand as the halls filled with confused banquet-attendees and hotel guests. They reluctantly evacuated from the lavish hall, trading appetizers and champagne for a dingy, asphalt-cracked parking lot with views of the local dumpsters and a coal barge sailing up the river.

  I held onto his arm, not nearly as agile with my heels on an uneven pavement as I was on the dance floor. “I didn’t know why you’d want a PR person, but I get it now. Good call.”

  Adrian led me farther from the crowds, deeper into the shadows of the lot. Wasn’t exactly private next to the beat-up Toyota Tundra, but at least it shielded us from some stares and most of the wailing fire alarm.

  “She’ll probably fire me because of this,” he said.

  “Something tells me if she’s handled Jack Carson, she can easily manage this.”

  A deep crease formed between his brows. More and more little worry lines had appeared near his eyes. The stress was getting to him, and the season had only officially started twelve hours ago.

  “She’s managed one man,” he said. “But this team has a dozen Jack Carsons. It’ll ruin us…if it doesn’t destroy my career first.”

  Poor guy.

  I tucked myself into his embrace. A delighted thrill charged through me as he leaned in to steal a kiss.

  His lips were soft. His kiss complicated.

  Why did it feel so damned right to sink into his arms?

  “You’ll get through this.” I brushed my hand over his cheek and gently scratched my nails in his beard. “And, if it all works out, no one has to know that Forge caused all of…this.”

  Two fire trucks and a police cruiser wheeled into the lot, lights and sirens blazing. Just what the party needed.

  “If it isn’t this problem, it’ll be another tomorrow,” he said. “Or the scandal after that, or the disaster that follows.”

  “And you’ll work through all of it. First things first—get all the guys on the ice in the same uniform. Once you do that, everyone will realize the team works better together than each man can do on his own. But you can’t rush it, Adrian. It happens in its own time.”

  The crowds milled closer to the hotel, but we lingered in the shadows, hidden from the rest of the team, coaches, and media. Seemed as though I needed only to take his hand and we might’ve disappeared altogether.

  “I’m perpetually running out of time.” His words edged hard.

  “That’s not true.”

  “There’s always something that takes more time than I have. Healing injuries. Rallying the team.” He gestured toward me. “Figuring out what time of the month it is.”

  “One of those mysteries is substantially more fun than the others.”

  “Can’t argue there.”

  And a deliciously naughty thought popped into my head.

  Maybe it was the sight of this man in a perfectly tailored tuxedo.

  Maybe it was the image of him naked in the showers.

  Or maybe it was because my best friend was hurting, and he needed my help.

  “I have an idea…” I whispered. “Why don’t we blow off the rest of this party?”

  Adrian groaned. “I’d love to, but I can’t. I gotta meet with the coaches, the owners, the builders of the arena, the city Council and Mayor. Everyone’s expecting me to be here.”

  “What if I expected you too?”

  Adrian hesitated, his words lowering to an interested growl. “I didn’t think tonight was the night.”

  It wasn’t, but that didn’t matter. “Who knows about these things? Maybe we’ve been a little too regimented with it. If we keep it casual, it’ll happen on its own.”

  “What did you have in mind?” he asked.

  “We sneak away. Go back to my place.”

  “Why yours?”

  “Because my place is closer.”

  He smirked. “Is that what you want?”

  Hell if I knew anymore.

  I wanted to feel that closeness again. I craved him. All of him. His kiss. His touch. His dominating cock.

  A party was fun and all, but crashing into bed and delighting each other in a frenzy of wild, uninhibited sex
was more…

  Exciting.

  Titillating.

  …Natural.

  And maybe, if in those unrelenting moments of pure pleasure, I happened to confess those confusing, wonderful feelings, he could help.

  Who knew? We might’ve laughed about it. Realized how silly we were being. How ridiculous it was to even consider anything romantic between the two of us.

  Or…

  Or maybe he could reveal his own feelings too?

  “No harm in spending a little time in bed.” I slid into his arms and leaned into another kiss. “Maybe we’ll spend a lot of time there.”

  “Are you that insatiable?”

  “Well, yes…and who knows when I’ll actually get pregnant. We might be going at it for a long, long time.”

  Adrian stiffened. “What do you mean?”

  “The more trouble we have, the more nights I spend in your arms.”

  Adrian shifted away. A cold rush of air suddenly separated us, and I shivered in the chill.

  “What do you mean, trouble?” His eyes darkened. “We’re not having any trouble.”

  Three months with no results?

  “Well, what would you call it?” I shrugged. “I’m not pregnant yet.”

  “And that’s my fault?”

  I flinched at the sharpness in his voice.

  Was I that bad at flirting? Had I pissed him off?

  “No, it’s not your fault,” I said. “It’s no one’s fault. We’re doing everything right. But if were having a little trouble, it’s no big deal. We can keep trying. It doesn’t sound that bad to me…”

  Adrian’s entire body tensed. He walked away from me—his steps crushing the gravel beneath his feet.

  He spoke through gritted teeth. “We are not having trouble conceiving.”

  Uh-oh. Last thing I wanted to do was pressure him. “It’s okay. Any couple could expect to have a few issues—”

  “There are no issues.”

  “Adrian.”

  “And there won’t be any issues. I told you I would get this done. For Christ’s sake, Clover. I’m asking for a little faith.”

  His voice rose, and I reached for him. He didn’t take my hand.

  “I do have faith in you,” I said.

  “Doesn’t sound like it.”

  “What the hell’s gotten into you?”

  Adrian set his jaw as the fire fighters called an all-clear and the alarm turned off. The banquet guests slowly filed into the hotel once more.

  “I can’t leave tonight.” The finality in his voice shook me. “I’ve got a lot of people I’m supposed to meet. Pictures to take. And after a day like today, I need to foster all the goodwill I can.”

  “Sure,” I nodded. “I get it. We’ll leave whenever you want.”

  He re-buttoned his suit. “I don’t know how long I’ll be here. You should go home.”

  “Without you?”

  “There’s a lot to do, and I’m gonna have to call Leah Carson to sort this shit out. It’ll be a late night.”

  I didn’t like the sound of that. My stomach pitted, and I regretted drinking so much champagne before the appetizers.

  “Right.” I sucked in a breath. “Well, I won’t mind if you wake me up—”

  “Not tonight.”

  Sounded a lot like not ever.

  I crossed my arms to take the edge off the chill. It did nothing. Suddenly the parking lot felt very large, and his rejection made me feel all the smaller.

  “This is training camp.” Adrian chastised me like he would a child. “I gotta get up early. Wouldn’t make sense to waste our time screwing around.”

  “Waste our time?”

  “I should get in there and make sure the guys aren’t causing trouble.” Adrian refused to even look at me. “I’ll talk to you…later.”

  The pit in my stomach grew, churning and grinding and leaving me a shaky, sick mess.

  “Okay…” I tried to keep my voice light. Failed. “I’ll text you.”

  He didn’t answer.

  Simply stalked away.

  And I cursed myself for being such an idiot.

  Why was Adrian so damned sensitive about the pregnancy? And how was I supposed to comfort him when the same thing terrified me?

  This arrangement had spiraled out of control. Suddenly, it was more than just a baby. More than just sex.

  More than just Adrian’s simmering anger.

  For as long as we’ve been friends, we’d been able to overcome anything. But this? This was a dangerous road, one paved with fear, uncertainty, and potholes of hidden truths.

  The last thing I wanted was to hurt the one man I loved most in the world.

  But what would happen to us if I didn’t get pregnant?

  19

  Adrian

  Clover was fertile again.

  And I had no fucking idea what to expect.

  How was a man supposed to show up at his best friend’s house, demand she strip, and then fuck the shit out of her while pretending nothing was wrong?

  Because everything was wrong.

  With me. With her. With us.

  And the worst was how I felt about her. That uncompromising, painful, twisted fucking love that consumed every part of me. She was my exhale. The second beat of my heart. She was the reason I was me. Because long ago, she saw the man I could be—a successful, compassionate, honest man—and I refused to ever disappoint her.

  And that feeling, that selfishness, would ruin our lives.

  It had been months since my injury, and I assumed that my balls were healed.

  Turned out, I’d lost them.

  And myself.

  And whatever control I had over my life, my relationships, and my team.

  Guilt, frustration, and impatience poisoned me. I wish it had destroyed my desire for Clover, but unfortunately, those feelings burned hotter than ever.

  Lust possessed my mind, and the unconscionable need to worship and defile Clover disgusted me. But what man could resist a beautiful and insatiable woman offering her fertility to him every night?

  It’d been idiotic to take her up on the offer, but I never would’ve forgiven myself if I had refused her—even if I had reservations.

  Concerns.

  Fears.

  But maybe none of it would matter.

  If I got her pregnant, it would all resolve. No more secrets. No more guilt. No more whispers about my health.

  No more fucking feelings destroying everything.

  The baby would simplify it all.

  We could be together without question, without revealing those complicated and confusing emotions. We’d never speak of it again. Wouldn’t have to—not when we could enjoy a life together. Just me, her, a baby.

  It’d be selfish to want anything more.

  I drove to her house with the radio on. That was my first mistake. The second was listening to Sports Nation.

  “The league isn’t sure what’s happening with the Ironfield Forge, but, according to my sources, they are not happy.”

  Ainsley Rupert was a man who sounded like he’d taken two bites of a hot sausage sandwich and struggled to chew. The slimy “so-called” journalist preferred pulp gossip to actual commentary. And I wouldn’t have listened had he not said my name.

  “I don’t know if you’re following what’s happening with the Forge—not a lot of hockey fans in Ironfield. I’m still not sure what the league was thinking setting a team up in a football city. But the talk is not good. Did you hear about this calamity at the team banquet? My sources are telling me that the hotel suffered massive damages, and we might have a potential sexual assault charge pending on three members of the Forge.”

  Oh, that was bullshit.

  By the time I’d pulled our guys away from the waitress, she’d stuffed her room keys down their pants. The allegation was false, but I expected little else from Ainsley Rupert.

  “This team is about to fall apart before it’s even come together. I don’t see this
franchise finding success without viable leadership. And that leadership has to start at the top of the roster.”

  I’d pulled into Clover’s driveway, but I didn’t turn the engine off. I had to know what I was facing when I returned to the arena.

  “For years with the Marauders, Adrian Alaric was known for his work ethic and his spotless reputation. Maybe the Marauders were better at hiding his scandals, or maybe Alaric is unhappy with his new position and has turned to a life of wild parties, pornography, and, get this, witness intimidation. That’s right, folks. We’ve got it on tape. Adrian Alaric threatening the manager of the hotel to prevent him from calling the police on his teammates.”

  My hands tightened over the wheel.

  “Now, Alaric is doing all he can to pretend that he is actually 100% and ready to play, but it might not be the injury that ends his career. Folks, I’ve gotta ask. There’s a ton of bad news surrounding the Forge, and, if I were the league, I’d want to know why Adrian Alaric is at the center of it every time. The coaches had better step in before this man destroys a brand-new expansion team before the season starts.”

  For Christ’s sake.

  I turned the car off. It wasn’t anywhere nearly as satisfying as putting my fist through the radio, but we didn’t need any more scandal.

  Served me right for listening to fucking drivel. Not a word of the shit was true, but no one in Ironfield knew who the fuck I was or what I’d sacrificed for the team. The city would hate me before I even laced up my skates.

  I added it to the list of problems to discuss with Leah Carson. Her bill was already astronomical, but she hadn’t immediately fired me as a client. Instead, she’d cackled.

  Never thought I’d have to fix a reputation as damaged as Jack’s, she’d said.

  I dragged myself to Clover’s porch. The headache wasn’t entirely Ainsley Rupert’s fault. Practice had kicked my ass. Every muscle in my body ached, head to toe, including my groin. Not related to the injury, but that hadn’t stopped the trainers from shooting the coach worried glances. Sure as shit, the news tomorrow would report that I was hiding some other ailment.