Cold As Puck: A Cold Love Series Novel

by Paige, Violet

  I ran a line of paint across the wall. Sophie poked her head in the room.

  “It looks good.” She smiled. “Thank you for doing this.”

  “You’ve got your hands full.” I dipped the roller in the pan. “Only one section to go, and I think you can use the room.”

  “Maybe some furniture?” She cocked her head sideways.

  “That’s up to you. I like this big, empty room.” I stood back to see if I had missed any spots. “How do you feel about murals?” I asked. “Maybe a big hockey net right here. A puck the size of an oven.”

  “Funny. Funny.”

  “Hey, what time is it?” My phone was in the middle of the room under a drop cloth.

  “Almost three.”

  I had brought lunch for Sophie and ended up offering to finish the multi-purpose room she had been trying to finalize for months. I’d come up with a lot of different excuses during the workday to spend time at the Golden Page. All the air filters had been changed. There wasn’t a burned-out light bulb in any lamp or overhead fixture, and there was a new 3D Peter Pan display in the children’s section.

  “Shit,” I mumbled. “I need to go.”

  “Hot date?” she teased.

  “Yeah. With Dr. Falcon.”

  She folded her arms and watched me scramble to scrape the paint off my forearms and knuckles.

  “Are you going to talk about game seven today?” she asked.

  I stopped peeling paint off my skin. “I’ve got it under control.”

  “So that means you two have already talked about it?” she pressed.

  I walked toward her and dropped a quick kiss on her mouth. “No.” I wasn’t going to lie. She mumbled something under her breath, but I didn’t have time to stick around and decipher it. I had to make the session on time.

  Dr. Falcon’s door was closed when I arrived. A client who was new to me walked out in silence as if she had been delivered bad news. In the past two months I’d been seeing the doc, I’d never once witnessed a man walk out that door.

  Two minutes later, Lina Falcon appeared. “Hi, Roman. Come in.”

  “Hi, Doc.”

  I sat in the usual spot, and the therapist sat in the same chair.

  “What should we talk about today?” she asked flatly.

  “I think that depends on what questions you have,” I replied.

  She didn’t look amused. “I ask you questions every session, and you don’t want to answer them. Why don’t you tell me what you want to talk about?”

  I stared at her. I felt something tense and combative about her posture. “Did you hear from Rick? Jerry? Did the league call?”

  “What would that mean to you if someone did call me?”

  I huffed. “That I’m never going to be free no matter what I do. It’s just not good enough. I’ve never missed a session. I’ve never been late. Three times a week I’ve been here in this office. In this chair. Week after week.” I stood; I didn’t want to sit any longer. “I’ve done what they asked me to do.” I stared at her.

  She nodded. “You haven’t missed a single minute. That’s true.”

  “But?” I challenged her.

  “But what has that done for you?”

  “It means I can show up for training camp. It means I can start in the pre-season games.” I threw my hands in the air. “What else do they want?”

  Dr. Falcon gazed at me. “To be honest with you, Roman, I don’t care about the league or your HR file.” Her elbows pressed into the notebook she sometimes scribbled in. “How many sessions have we had? Over twenty. Have you taken advantage of any of them?”

  “I don’t need this.” I wanted to storm out the door. “I’ve never needed it.”

  “Someone thought you were in crisis. What have you done the past couple of months to address it?”

  I was like a caged lion. There wasn’t an exit. Dr. Falcon usually sat quietly and asked vague questions. She’d lob one up, and I’d lob it back. What the fuck was happening today?

  I dropped my hands. “I’m good. I’m with Sophie.” To anyone who truly knew me, like my mother, it was clear Sophie was a magic elixir. She was all I needed.

  “Sophie. The woman you used to date.”

  I nodded. “The woman I’m dating.”

  “Why don’t you tell me something about her, since you don’t want me to know anything about you?”

  My eyes cut to the therapist. “Sophie is off-limits.”

  Dr. Falcon sighed. “What about your relationship? Is that off-limits, too?”

  “I guess it depends.” I didn’t like her needling around in what Sophie and I had rebuilt.

  “Does she know about your sessions?”

  “She does.”

  “Does she know you were found unconscious in a bathtub full of water? Drunk? Bleeding? I believe with a guest in your room.” She had glanced at the notes.

  I gripped the chair. “No.”

  “But I get the impression Sophie is some kind of beacon for you. Why wouldn’t you tell her?”

  She was grinding the answers out of me. “She doesn’t need to worry. Besides, it was a misunderstanding. I wasn’t trying to hurt myself.”

  Dr. Falcon folded the reading glasses that had been on her nose and placed them next to her on the edge of her desk. “What if you didn’t know you were trying to hurt yourself?”

  It was as if a cold mist had seeped in through the window and coated my skin. A chilling sweat broke out across my chest.

  “I-I wasn’t.” My throat choked on the words.

  “Were you and Sophie in a relationship at the time when you lost game seven?”

  I shook my head.

  “What about the guest you had invited?”

  I shook my head again. I didn’t even know that girl’s name. Only that I was so wasted I didn’t remember sleeping with her. I didn’t remember what she looked like.

  “Who did you have to share that disappointment with?”

  I bit the inside of my cheek. “I didn’t.”

  “Do you remember drinking that night?”

  I didn’t look at her. “I do.”

  “Do you remember getting in the bathtub?” It was as if she was reading off the timetable of that night’s events. If felt like she might be able to retrace my steps better than I could. Well, I had been shitfaced.

  “Sort of,” I admitted. “A lot of that night went black after I passed out.” I didn’t want to say what I was remembering. It went black after I sank into the water.

  Dr. Falcon’s inhale could be heard across the room where I stood. “Roman, I think you should tell Sophie whatever it is you can’t tell me.”

  I sat on the edge of the bookcase, above where the cabinets formed a slight ledge. I rested my head in my hands.

  “She’s been through a lot lately.”

  “So have you,” Dr. Falcon urged.

  “What if I scare her, doc?” It was the first genuine question I’d ever asked her.

  Dr. Falcon smiled. “If she’s as protective of you as you are of her, I don’t think you can scare her.” The doc shrugged. “But we have plenty more sessions to cover that if it happens.” She winked.

  I chuckled slightly. “Thanks, Doc.”

  I knew my session was closing. I walked to the door.

  “Good luck, Roman.”

  I nodded and closed the door behind me.

  25

  Sophie

  This wasn’t going to be easy. I knew it would be one of the hardest conversations I'd ever had. I checked my hair and makeup in the mirror and then folded my legs on the bed.

  Thirty seconds.

  I took a few steadying breaths, and then my phone lit up. I slid the answer button and smiled.

  “Hi, Dad.” He was wearing his camo. He was seated in an office, talking to me on a laptop.

  “Hi, sweetheart. How are you?”

  “Good. Staying busy at work. I got the multi-purpose room finished.” I had made a small list of safe, newsy to
pics to hit on first. The piece of paper was just out of his view. “How are you?”

  “I’m moving to another base. An assignment has come up I can’t turn down.”

  “Oh, really?” Good. This was perfect. I’d keep him wrapped up in his own world of work, and maybe I could avoid diving into the Roman topic.

  “I’m headed to Germany in the morning. It’s going to add another two weeks to my rotation,” he explained.

  “You always liked Germany.”

  “It’s not for sightseeing, Sophie. There are security breaches I have to assess.”

  “Of course. Sorry.”

  “Where are you?” He peered into the screen.

  “Staying at a friend’s. I’m having some work done at my apartment.”

  “What kind of work? Was it in your remodeling budget, or did something else happen?” The building I had purchased on my own was still a sore spot. I’d bought it against his advice. I’d bought it because I had thought Roman and I were going to turn it into something together. If a faucet leaked or I had an ant problem, it was my father's chance to remind me I had no business owning an old building.

  I stared at the ceiling.

  “Sophie, what happened?”

  “I had a problem with Russell Pruitt after I hired him.”

  “That mechanic at Ray’s?”

  I nodded. I didn’t know why my voice was cracking and my hands felt shaky. It had been weeks since the attack. Russell was behind bars. The district attorney said it was a slam dunk case. But no one had told Colonel Mark Fairchild a psycho had stalked and tried to assault his daughter. It wasn’t a secret I could keep from him.

  “He was kinda obsessed with me, and he attacked me one morning before the shop opened.”

  His face fell. “Sweetheart, are you okay?” His voice softened.

  “He’s in jail.” I tried to pull it together. “And he didn’t hurt me. Scared me but didn’t hurt me.” I mustered a small smile. “Anyway, I don’t want live in the apartment anymore. I don’t want to be there.”

  “Understandable. You have the keys to my house. But that doesn’t look like where you are.” He was still studying the guest room.

  “Dad.” I’d never needed so much oxygen. “I’m in Ruby Sorrow’s guestroom.”

  “That was big of her to take you in. You couldn’t have Lee stay with you at my house? There’s plenty of room for both you girls.” He was trying to work out the logistics. Once he knew I was physically unharmed, he would systematically funnel through how to put life back in order. He couldn’t help it. That’s how he was built.

  “Well, I’m at Ms. Sorrow’s house, but she’s not the one who invited me to stay.”

  There was instant recognition in his eyes. “No. When did he get back?”

  “After the Stanley Cup.” I was waiting for him to explode, but he didn’t.

  “Sweetheart, is this really a good idea?” The question implied there was more he wanted to ask, but he was giving me a pass tonight.

  “For us, it is.” I was confident in my answer. I was confident in what Roman and I had together. We had created something beautiful out of a past laden with pain.

  He sighed. “Do you want me to tell the general I can’t go to Germany?”

  “Dad!” He’d never made an offer like that, never once suggested he could turn down a military order. “Absolutely not. I’m fine.”

  “There was a guy after you. You were attacked. You can’t go back to your apartment, a place I know you’ve poured all your time and money into. And now Roman’s back.” He hung his head. “I feel like this could be one of those times you need me.”

  “You should go to Germany. Your work is important. I’m okay. I know you’re worried about Roman, but it’s different. He isn’t going anywhere.”

  “What does Ruby say?” he asked.

  I grinned. “She loves me just the same.”

  “As she should.”

  I laughed. “That is a dad thing to say.”

  “I’m not feeling much like a father right now. Are you sure you don’t want me to come home? I can back out of the Germany assignment. I’ll be on a plane tomorrow.”

  “I’m sure. Roman is watching out for me. I carry mace with me everywhere I go again.”

  “You never should have stopped,” he lectured.

  “Lesson learned.” I admitted I took my safety in Penny Hill for granted. Not any longer.

  We lingered on the call for a few more minutes. By the time we hung up, I thought we had reached a new understanding.

  * * *

  Later that night I was tucked in bed with Wuthering Heights. The door creaked, and I smiled when Roman tried to creep in as if he was much tinier than he was.

  “How many times have you read that?” His eyes scanned the cover.

  “Five,” I answered.

  He lifted the comforter and slid into bed next to me.

  “Is your mom asleep?” I whispered.

  “Sewing,” he explained. “Always sewing.” He nipped my shoulder.

  I pouted. “Sneaking around here has been impossible.” It had been five days since we'd had sex in the stock room at the bookstore. Five days and no sex. I missed lounging in bed and exploring each other, but I refused to go back to my apartment. And I couldn’t be sure my dad didn’t have a security system with cameras inside his house. I wasn’t willing to find out in an embarrassing situation. We were stuck.

  Roman’s hand slid between my legs, and I purred but pushed it away. “I can’t have sex with you when your mom is at the end of the hall. It’s not right.”

  “She won’t know.” He kissed my neck, and I tried to wriggle away. His thumb brushed my nipple through the thin camisole I wore to sleep in.

  I hissed at the contact. My nipples were too eager for his treatment.

  “But I'll know,” I argued. I moved so far away from him I was close to landing on the floor. “I can’t do it. It’s not college. And she’s letting me live in her guestroom. I can’t do that to her. I can’t defile her son under her own roof.”

  “Defile, huh?” He groaned. His head sank into the pillow. “I want you, Soph.”

  “I want you, too,” I whispered. I felt lovestruck and homesick at the same time. Not being with Roman was chipping away at me.

  His hand slapped the bed in frustration. “Pack your bag.”

  “What?”

  “We’re going somewhere I can undress you slowly and watch you come.” His eyes flickered.

  I shivered. Oh, my God. Roman always looked at me as if I should be adored. But this look? It was the kind that I read about. It was Mr. Darcy and Mr. Grey in one blistering stare.

  He jumped to his feet. “Meet me downstairs in ten.” He left no room to argue.

  “But what about your mom?” I wasn’t willing to tell him he didn’t have to try hard to make me cave. We weren’t dealing with teenager hormones any longer. The need for each other was much greater.

  “I’ll tell her I’m taking you out.”

  “Roman, it’s after eleven.”

  He stood at the door. “Meet me downstairs in ten minutes.”

  My lips twisted together. “Fine.”

  He winked and was gone.

  26

  Roman

  I had barely opened the door to the only suite I could reserve for the night in Penny Hill when my hands tangled in Sophie’s hair. My lips covered her neck and throat. She had thrown on a quick sun dress for the drive and ditched her PJs at the house.

  She groaned as my fingers curled around her ass and I lifted her in my arms.

  “Close. The. Door.”

  I nodded, reaching backward for the French doors. It slammed closed, and I pressed her back into the wood. My tongue traced her lips before kissing her.

  I reached under her skirt and peeled her panties to her ankles. She kicked them away with her flip-flops before I sank to my knees. I lifted her dress, holding it against her navel as I dove between her thighs.

&n
bsp; “Oh, shit.” Her hands feathered through my hair. I lashed over her clit, prying her lips open with needy fingers. I sucked her pussy, growling as her hips jutted forward. She was wet, dripping with honey.

  “I love this, Soph.”

  “Yes,” she breathed. “I love it, too. Please let me come. We haven’t been alone.”

  I had every intention of giving her multiple orgasms. Loud. Raw. Hard orgasms.

  I coated her asshole just enough to slide a finger inside. I pumped in and out while she came in my mouth quickly. Her hands slapped the door while she trembled from her thighs to her feet.

  I looked up in her eyes. “Fuck, you’re amazing.”

  She smiled lazily. “Fuck me, please. Don’t stop. Not once. I’ve been dying in that guestroom by myself.”

  I laughed, rising to my feet. “You are the most perfect girlfriend I could ever want,” I teased, pulling the dress over her head and admiring the fact that she hadn’t bothered to wear a bra.

  “I’m your girlfriend?” Her eyes lit. My fingers traced her tits.

  “Yes, you’re my girlfriend.” I threaded her fingers in mine and led her away from the door. There wasn’t much to the suite but a few pieces of living room furniture and a bed. It was the best I could buy in Penny Hill. If we both weren’t so horny, I’d have driven us back to the resort to spoil her with room service and a couple's massage in the morning.

  She unclasped her bra and dropped it at my feet like a dare. I could match that. I unbuckled my shorts, and they, too, hit the floor. I quickly pulled the T-shirt over my head and sat on the edge of the bed.

  “Come here.” I motioned for her to obey.

  Sophie straddled me, her eyes dipping to my throbbing shaft as it bobbed between my legs. I was hard as steel. She whimpered when I pressed it to her heat.

  “Girlfriend,” she purred. “You haven’t actually said that.”

  I pushed my cock to her entrance. My eyes rolled back. She was fucking heaven. Every part of her.

  “Fiancée?” I growled.

  “What?”

  Our eyes met. “Does that sound better?”