by Ciz, Alley
Her eyes lifted to meet his and she was startled to recognize the heaviness of attraction there. Gage James was attracted to her. Her, Rocky Steele, the girl with the hugest celebrity crush on him. The girl who didn’t date fighters. Maybe she really was still asleep.
“What can I say… I’m a bit of an overachiever.” Her eyes tracked over the corded muscles of his forearm stretched out alongside her. She swallowed—hard—at the arm porn perfection now inches from her face.
Jacket zipped to the base of her sports bra, she steeled herself against temptation, pulling up every one of her professional reserves. She could do this. She'd treated some of the hottest athletes throughout her short career and tenure at college. He was no different. Or at least that’s what she tried to tell herself as she led him into the treatment room and asked him to strip down to his underwear.
It worked too.
Until she turned around.
And sweet mother of all things Calvin Klein underwear model. He was Michelangelo perfection in his white boxer briefs. Mark Wahlberg had nothing on Gage James. Sure, she wasn't even born yet when the super-hot actor posed for the campaign, but thank you, internet, for immortalizing that underwear model paragon.
“You can sit up here,” she said, patting the treatment table.
Without a word, he did as she asked.
Stepping into the space between his spread knees, she was afforded her first up-close look of his tempting tattoo.
The head of the octopus took over half his pectoral muscle, stretching up and over his shoulder with its sleepy eye looking at her from the front of his shoulder. The body covered his bulging biceps, with six of its tentacles wrapping around his forearm down to his wrist and two reaching along his back and up his neck.
The tribal design of the body was gorgeous on his tanned skin. Her hands itched to trace the diamond shapes and swirls.
Then she remembered that was exactly what she was about to do. It was her professional duty, after all.
Some days she really loved her job.
Chapter Five
Gage settled himself on the padded table, willing his dick to stay down as Rocky entered his personal space, the sweet scent of blueberries coming with her. He had barely gotten himself back under control after his accidental brush against her ass. Her firm, heart-shaped, bent-over ass.
How he’d had the self-control to not reach out and grab her hips was beyond him. Especially with the million different possibilities of what he wanted to do to her running through his head.
As disappointed as he was when she covered herself with a jacket, it was probably a good thing if he was going to get through her evaluation without embarrassing himself or him acting on his baser urges.
The goosebumps breaking out on his skin had nothing to do with being practically naked and everything to do with the thought of her hands on his body.
Running down my chest, her nails scratching along the way.
Slipping under the hem of my boxers.
Wrapped around my co—
Nope.
He cut off that train of thought before it had a chance to finish off the last of his control like a roundhouse kick to the head.
He felt something vibrate against his thigh.
“Do you need to get that?” He gestured toward her leg with his chin.
“No. Ignore it,” she said, picking up the iPad from where she'd placed it next to him on the table. “It’s what I’ve been doing for the last fifteen minutes since Beck stirred the pot.” The smile tugging the corners of her lips revealed she wasn’t upset with her friend.
She stood close enough that he was able to appreciate the perfect cupid’s bow shape of her lips. All night, he had imagined what those lips would look and feel like on his body. Again, he felt a stirring below the belt, so focusing on anything but her anatomy was what he needed to do. Not more fantasizing over if she could handle his entire length or if she liked to swallow.
No, he needed to think of fighting his way out of the armbar she seemed so partial to and punch combinations.
“I take it you guys are close?” Beyond the obvious physical attraction, he had a drive to learn as much about this woman as he could. Plus, focusing the questions on her took his mind off how good her hands actually felt on him as she inspected the scars scattered across his hands. They were par for the course for any fighter.
“Yup.” She made a popping sound with the p. “She’s my sista from another mista. My blood from another stud. The trilogy to me and Vince.”
He laughed at her description of their friendship. "I get that. My cousin, Wyatt, is my brotha from another motha," he said with a grin that she returned.
She asked him questions regarding his medical history and if he had any problem areas she would need to watch. His pulse beat in his hip as he denied any issues. Sweat beaded on the back of his neck. Keeping his injury a secret was going to be a constant challenge, but it didn't truly bother him that often, so he wasn't going to allow it to bench him.
Her experience in the sport was evident in the way she questioned if he had any injuries not made public. Not even Tony knew about his hip—that information stayed between him and the doctor bound by his Hippocratic oath to keep it.
She demonstrated complete confidence in everything she did, making it obvious that she'd earned each of those certificates he saw in her office earlier.
She tested the range of motion for each of his joints. He barely bit back a groan of discomfort when he had to swing his leg around. His hip had better range when he was warmed up. Vic’s warning about trying to hide an injury from her echoed in the back of his mind.
He needed a distraction. “So did you start working for your dad recently? You can’t be out of school long.” He was the worst at guessing ages, but he knew from her brother’s profile he was twenty-five, so he assumed she was around his age given how close they had seemed earlier.
A frown tugged at her face, giving him the impression she wasn’t all that happy about being a part of her father’s empire. “It feels like I’ve worked here all my life.” She motioned for him to step on the medical-grade scale in the corner. “I’ve taught yoga, been a personal trainer, and served as the physical therapist as I worked my way through my degrees to my doctorate this past May.” She paused to record his weight in his chart.
“You’re older than your brother?” That was surprising.
“No. Vince has me by thirteen months. BTU—where I went to college—offers an accelerated program that I qualified for.”
He liked that she was smart. He liked it a lot.
She leaned against the table close to where he resumed sitting and he watched her input more information about him in the iPad. He breathed a sigh of relief when she didn’t make any mention of his hip.
She looked to him when there was a knock on the door. Not sure if she was asking permission to answer or not, he gave her a nod anyway. It wasn’t like he was shy about being in front of people in his underwear. He did his weigh-ins—broadcasted on TV—in his trusty Calvins, so he was used to it.
“Come in,” she called out.
A russet colored head popped through the doorway, dark eyes bouncing around the room. “Alphabet Soup,” the guy he said when he spotted Rocky.
“What’s up, Deck?”
“Do you have any Kinesio tape?”
“Shoulder?” she asked, already walking to one of the cabinets on the far wall.
“Yeah.”
Deck, the fighter he recognized who sparred with Mick earlier, stepped inside the room with them, automatically turning to the side so Rocky could tape up his shoulder with the therapy tape meant to stimulate healing. She created a U-shape around the ball of his shoulder with blue tape, switched to black for a strip from the side of his neck down to the middle of his biceps, then finished by running a strip of blue from the bump of his collarbone to the middle of his shoulder blade.
A little crinkle formed between her black brows as she con
centrated on the precise placement of the tape.
“Good?” she asked and Deck rolled his shoulder a few times before nodding his approval.
“Hey, can you give Vin a ride home later?" she asked. "Beck and I are leaving for Jordan’s in a few and he came in with me this morning.”
Gage studied their interaction, trying to gauge the relationship between them. With the added dynamic of her being his new coach’s daughter, he wasn’t sure if he should come right out and ask her if she had a boyfriend—not that he should anyway.
“I thought last night was your Coven meeting?”
“No, it was just Beck and me last night.” She turned to Gage. “Don’t ask,” she said, probably reading the confusion on his face. “Deck and the guys just have jokes when it comes to me and my friends.”
“And 'alphabet soup'?” he asked.
Her laughter made him smile. This easy-going girl was a direct contrast to the serious clinician she was during her evaluation just moments before.
“It’s my nickname because of the letters of my certifications.” She lifted a hand in the direction of her office. "Even abbreviated, my full title is a mouthful.”
“That’s what she said,” Deck quipped.
“What are you, five?” she scolded him with a laugh.
The guy shrugged, unfazed. “You know you love me, Rock.”
“That’s debatable.”
“One date.” Deck waggled a finger in front of her face. “That’s all I’d need to have you fall in love with me for real.”
“Pff.” Her lips quirked into a playful smile. “Maybe you need to sit the rest of the day out, because clearly you’ve taken one too many hits to the head with a comment like that.”
His eyes followed her as she moved about the room, putting things away and resetting it back to order.
“Besides, Deck, you know I don’t date fighters. So forgetting the fact I think of you as a brother, you’ve got that going against you too.”
Whoa. What the hell? What did she have against fighters?
“You know I joke, Rock. I like my balls attached to my body, and Vince would take much too much joy in trying to remove them if he thought I was hitting on you for real. Don’t even get me started on how Papa Steele would react.”
“Truth,” she agreed with a sardonic smile.
The longer he listened to their conversation, the more he thought the universe was warning him to keep his distance. Too bad he felt like there was an invisible string between them, drawing him to her.
“What are you going to Jordan’s for?” Deck asked.
“Tomorrow is the first regular season game, so I’m going to make sure Jake is good to go. I’m sure Ryan will be there too and it’ll save me a trip to his place to do his.”
“Umm…I’m pretty sure the Blizzards employ their own PTs to do that," Deck said.
She was treating members of New Jersey's hockey team too? Gage was becoming more fascinated by the minute.
“Yes, they do. Which I remind them of. But you boys are all babies when it comes to your superstitions. Now get out of here.” She shooed Deck toward the door. “Ice the shoulder when you get home and put heat on it before bed. I’ll check on it again in the morning.”
Deck snapped his heels together in attention and saluted Rocky before striding from the room, leaving them alone once again.
“I have so many questions right now,” Gage deadpanned.
He was a little intimidated by how many people she seemed to be friends with. He wasn’t a total introvert, but he definitely fell more on the loner side of the spectrum.
“Yeah, Deck has that effect on people. Don’t worry.” She patted his shoulder, electricity sparking through his body at the casual touch. “You get used to it after a while.”
Done with his physical, she motioned for him to get dressed as she went into her office to grab her bag.
“Try not to let the guys run you off before tomorrow. They’re an acquired taste. But there’s no place else like The Steele Maker. Glad we were able to officially meet this time.”
And with a wave and a short “Bye, Gage,” she breezed out the door, leaving him alone in her treatment room. The night before he was hit by her beauty. Today, he got firsthand experience of her professionalism. Both were like a one-two punch, telling his gut there was no way he could let her wiggle herself away from him like an opponent trying to get out of a rear naked choke.
In the last twelve hours, he'd told himself multiple times he couldn’t afford any distractions if he was going to defend his belt.
Yet as he learned more about her and his physical reaction to her strengthened, all the reasons he shouldn’t faded away.
The fact that she said she didn’t date fighters barely even registered as a blip on his radar. He’d find out the reason for her aversion and then change her mind.
Looked like it was time for him to step into the cage again.
Game on.
Chapter Six
Rocky punched in the code for the gate surrounding the property of the Donovan estate. Thanks to a generous signing bonus when becoming the Blizzards goalie, a multi-million-dollar salary, and a handful of lucrative endorsement deals via his PR guru of a wife, Jake Donovan had purchased a six-bedroom home and the few acres of land it sat on. For as large as the house was, it wasn’t ostentatious and fit its owners perfectly.
Jordan texted her earlier that the girls were awake, so she didn’t have to worry about Navy, Jordan’s large black Labrador, waking up any babies as she and Becky let themselves in through the front door.
Five months ago, while the Blizzards were battling it out in the playoffs for the Stanley Cup, Jordan gave birth to identical twin girls—Lucy and Lacey, the two most perfect babies in existence. Luckily for Jake, his wife happened to go into labor on a break between two home games.
Jordan had grown up in the hockey world just like Rocky was raised with fighters—the difference was Jordan loved it and used it to follow her passion in public relations, whereas Rocky was pigeonholed into her dad's gym.
Navy met Becky and her at the entrance and led the way to where all his humans were hanging out in the open kitchen and family room at the back of the house.
“Drink?” Jordan greeted them, wine bottle in one hand, cooing baby in the other.
Her friend was hella sleep deprived thanks to her newborn twins and still managed to look like the fierce matriarch of their group in black leggings, one of her husband’s old college hockey t-shirts, and a messy bun. But then again, Rocky learned early on never to underestimate Jordan Donnelly—now Donovan. She wanted to be as together as Jordan when she grew up, it didn’t matter they were the same age.
“Now that’s my type of greeting,” Becky said dropping a kiss to Lucy’s—or Lacey’s?—head, relieving Jordan of the bottle to pour three generous glasses.
“You can drink when breastfeeding?” Rocky was never one to turn down a nice Moscato and accepted the glass held out in offering, clinking it against the rims of her besties'.
“Yeah. It’s only one glass and I just finished feeding for what I swear was like the tenth time today already.” Jordan led them from the kitchen into the family room, where her husband, Jake, was swaying with the other twin on his shoulder.
“Hey, Rock. Hey, Beck.” He walked over to drop a kiss on each of their cheeks.
“Hey, Jake,” they returned.
Rocky reached her arms out, wiggling her fingers. “Now one of you give me a baby. I need to love up on my nieces while I’m here.”
Though technically not related, these babies were going to grow up with more aunts and uncles than they could count.
“Where’s Captain America?” Becky asked, looking around for Ryan, Jordan's brother.
After three years with the team, he had been named the new captain after their Cup win in June and Rocky knew there was no one better suited for the role.
“I’m right here.” Ryan stepped through the doors from the
backyard, pausing to pull Becky into a hug, and stopping Jake from handing over the baby in his arms. “No, take Lay.” He nodded toward the baby snuggled in her mom’s arms. “I want my goddaughter.”
“I’m impressed you can tell them apart so easily,” Rocky said, handing him Lucy before taking Lacey from Jordan.
“I helped dress them after an epic poop explosion. I remember who was in what,” he said with a wink.
“Okay, okay.” Jordan waved her hands in the air to bring the conversation back around. “As glamorous as the facts of mom life are, can we please focus on what’s important here?”
Her gut clenched, knowing exactly where her friend was about to take them.
“Why is it when we’re with you girls I always feel like I’m stepping into a conversation already in progress?” Ryan asked as he settled onto the couch.
“Because with their Coven conversations we pretty much always are,” Jake confirmed. But he dropped an arm around his wife’s shoulders and kissed her temple.
“Please don’t distract me, mommy brain is real.” Jordan placed one hand against her husband’s stomach, then looked straight at Rocky. “So what are you going to do?”
“About what?” Playing dumb was a great tactic.
“Don’t even try it. I may have put my phone in the fridge earlier when we were texting, but I didn’t forget what we were talking about.”
“Really, babe?” Jake asked.
“Yes, really. Don’t judge. Now put those things away before I lose my train of thought again.” Jordan pushed her finger into one of his dimples. “What are you going to do about this whole Gage situation?”
“There is no situation.” It took everything not to roll her eyes.
“Bullshit,” Becky declared. “There’s a situation, all right. Specifically, in that boy’s pants when he looks at you. Because hot damn.” She shook out her hand like she'd touched something hot.
“Anything you guys want to share with the class, maybe?” Ryan asked.
