Nixon (Raleigh Raptor Book 1)

by Samantha Whiskey

  “I think it sounds lonely.”

  She sucked in her breath. “Lonely is better than heartbroken.”

  “Loved is better than heartbroken. You know how you get back to loved? You date.”

  “Well, I’m going to skip that phase in my next relationship. It’s exhausting. I’ll just jump into marriage or something. Besides, what would you know about dating?” she challenged.

  “I date plenty,” I answered with a grin, leaning forward on my palm and invading her personal space.

  Her eyes widened, her pupils flaring in an awareness she couldn’t hide, just like that little jump in the pulse at her neck. She could play that she was immune, but she wasn’t. She leaned farther away from me, only to bring back that damned envelope. “So you know how your first offer was for ten million?”

  “Yes.” Now I leaned back, putting some distance between us.

  “Add a zero.”

  My brow puckered. “I’m sorry?”

  “It’s an eight-year, hundred-million-dollar contract.” Her eyes danced like she’d handed me the holy grail.

  “Not signing it.” I took my water bottle and headed for the shower.

  “Axel!”

  I turned because the sound of my name on her lips sounded so incredibly sweet.

  “I got you a fifteen million dollar signing bonus. You’ll be one of the highest paid players in the entire league.” This time her eyes held a sheen of desperation that I downright hated.

  “Let me make this clear, Langley. I might be the one person in your entire life who doesn’t give a shit about money. I make enough now to be happy. My brother is here. My team is here. My camp is here. There is nothing in that envelope I want.”

  “Okay, then what do you want?” she asked as I walked out the door.

  “I already told you!” I shouted back as I headed for my room. Let her stew on that one for a while.

  The next day I swam laps in the lane pool that ran alongside Lukas’ house. I’d already had practice this morning, then skated with the kids, and was now actively avoiding the contract waiting for me in the kitchen.

  Sure, it was a ton of money. But when was the last time money made anyone truly happy? My parents had been happy with next to nothing. I’d raised Tage on a meager salary until I got bumped to a higher one, and we’d done just fine. Yeah, I liked my new Rover, but it wasn’t like I needed it. Luxury items didn’t do it for me.

  What I wanted was Langley. Admitting that didn’t bother me. Knowing it would never happen? That bothered the shit out of me. She’d walk out of this house without a contract, and I’d only see her when I went to visit Lukas. Even then it would be chance encounters at the rink or a party or some other bullshit.

  It wasn’t even about sex—not that I wouldn’t sell my soul for a night where I could put my hands on her. A night where I could show her what it felt like to be with someone who worshipped her. Someone who knew exactly how to make her body sing without making her cry the next day.

  She’d actually been engaged to that dick. She’d agreed to be his wife, to spend the rest of her life with him. Someone who couldn’t see past the end of his own erection to notice the incredible, driven woman who had chosen him. Instead, he’d thrown her away over a job.

  Wait...was I doing the same thing? I reached the end of the lane and came up for air, resting my forearms along the cool stone of the pool’s edge. If I signed that stupid contract, then I’d live in South Carolina, close enough to see her often.

  But I knew in the marrow of my bones that she still wouldn’t give me a chance if I lived there. She wasn’t going to give anyone a chance, not with how tight she had her heart locked up.

  “Hey, Axel, I was getting ready to make some lunch. Did you want anything?”

  Think of the Devil.

  “Thank you, but no,” I answered, looking out over the bay.

  “You okay?” she asked, walking around the pool to where I stood.

  “Yeah,” I lied. The thing about Langley being here for three days was that I realized just how many more days I wanted. Days she wasn’t going to give me.

  She dipped her bare foot into the water. “That’s nice,” she noted, then sat at the edge of the pool, knee-to-toes in the water while her thighs rose soft and bare to her jean shorts.

  Langley was exquisite when dressed for work. She was class and sophistication and beauty. But, l liked her in this better. Soft and touchable. Home.

  “He won’t give me back my cat,” she whispered, gripping the pool’s edge. “The asshole claims that because he bought Hufflepuff, she’s his.”

  My gaze snapped to hers, only to find that she was staring at the water. “Your cat’s name is Hufflepuff?”

  “You’re missing the point. And yes, I love Harry Potter.”

  “Never watched them.” I shrugged. “And I know the point. You’re offering me something personal so I’ll do the same.”

  Her eyes widened under those thick lashes. “It’s read them, and yes, that’s exactly what I was doing. God, do you always have to call me out? Can’t you just let me win something?” She splashed water in my face.

  I gripped her ankles and pulled her in.

  “Axel!” She shrieked as the water rose to just above her breasts. “You ass!” She backed herself against the wall.

  I caged her in between my arms, leaving her more than enough room if she really wanted to go. “I personally like to read Stephen King, Dean Koontz, anything about the things that go bump in the night.”

  “I bet you like to bump in the night,” she muttered.

  “Look at me.”

  “No.” She crossed her arms under her breasts, but they were beneath the water, which killed some of the intended effect.

  “Look at me, Langley,” I ordered.

  She slowly brought her eyes up, and I didn’t miss the way they traced over the lines of my abs and chest, then my neck, my lips, and finally my eyes. Good thing there was a lot of space between us, or she’d feel exactly how much I wanted her.

  “What?” she finally asked, pure challenge in her eyes.

  “Answer this question honestly, and we’ll talk about your contract.”

  “Really?” Her eyebrows shot up.

  “Really. I won’t act on your answer. I won’t pressure you. No matter what you say is fine, and we’ll still discuss the deal you brought. Okay?”

  She ran her tongue over her lower lip, and I barely contained my groan.

  “Ask your question,” she said.

  “Have you ever, even for just the slightest second, no matter how inappropriate it is because you work for my best friend’s team—”

  “Enough caveats. Ask it.”

  “Have you ever wondered what it would be like to kiss me?” The words came out low and rough.

  Her eyes dropped to my lips, and hers parted.

  “I promise not to move a muscle. I’m not trying to get into your pants.” That wasn’t a full lie. I wasn’t. Not yet, anyway. “Answer. Have you ever wondered what it would be like to kiss me?” I repeated.

  She warred with herself, the inner conflict evident in the flicker of her eyes and the way she worried that lower lip with her teeth. Finally, she met my gaze and held it. “Yes.”

  My entire posture softened in relief. She’d been honest. Holy. Shit.

  “Now the contract.” Her chin rose in the air, and so help me God, I lost a chunk of my heart to her right then.

  “I’ll sign it on one condition.” This was fucking insane, but it was my only shot.

  “Name it.” She nodded.

  “Marry me for six months.”

  Her jaw dropped.

  “I’m not kidding, Langley. If you agree to marry me for six months, I’ll sign your damned contract. I’ll move to South Carolina, and I’ll be the lynchpin for your team. I’ll save your ass when it comes to your job. And no, this isn’t about getting a piece of ass.”

  Her mouth snapped shut.

  “Sex isn’t pa
rt of this deal. I’m not trading your body for a contract. I’m not that kind of man.”

  “But you’re the kind of man who would hang my entire career on whether I’ll agree to marry you? Do you have any idea how ludicrous that sounds? That is?” She pushed at my chest, and I backed up, giving her space.

  “I do, but it’s the only thing I want. Six months of being your husband.” Six glorious fucking months.

  “You’ve lost your damned mind.” She hoisted herself onto the edge of the pool. “I have to marry you and I don’t even get to have sex with you?” She shook her head. “I didn’t mean that. Forget I said it.”

  I grinned. Couldn’t help it. “Sex is up to you. I just wasn’t including it in the offer.” Because she didn’t need sex. Not yet, at least. That woman needed someone to put her first. To show her that it was possible to have a career she loved and a man she loved just as much. That she wouldn’t have to choose as long as she started by choosing the right man.

  “Why the hell would you want to marry me for six months?” she demanded, crossing her arms over her very wet black T-shirt.

  “Because it’s the only way you’ll let me date you,” I answered honestly. “And I really want the chance to date you.”

  Her mouth opened and shut a few times, but finally she shook her head and walked away from me, muttering that I’d lost my fool mind.

  I watched her walk away with a smile on my face. Both our cards were on the table, and the choice was hers to make—or not to.

  Man, I hoped she said yes.

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  About the Author

  Samantha Whiskey is a wife, mom, lover of her dogs and romance novels. No stranger to hockey, hot alpha males, and a high dose of awkwardness, she tucks herself away to write books her PTA will never know about.

  Acknowledgments

  Thank you to my incredible husband and my awesome kids without which I would live a super boring life!

  Huge thanks must be paid to all the amazing authors who have always offered epic advice and constant support! Not to mention creating insanely hot reads to pass the time with!

  Big shout out to A.H. for making this shine. And thank you to each and every single one of you AMAZING readers who love the these books as much as I do!