He Has MVP: An Enemies to Lovers Romance (Boston Brawlers Hockey Romance)

by Stephanie Queen

  “No you’re not like a dog. You are a dog.” She flashes a sassy smile, challenging me to disagree, but I don’t bother. Then she turns on her heel and retreats to the bedroom again. This time I know it’s for good when I hear the door shut behind her and the click of the latch loud and clear.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I should be angry, right? That Pink’s not cutting me slack? But I’m not because I know I deserve her skepticism. I have a well-deserved reputation for amusing myself with puck bunnies and I know I have a long way to go to redeem myself even if I haven’t done anything douchey lately. Aside from telling Jillian I’d call her when I had no intention of calling her.

  It had been an automatic response, a thoughtless throwaway line. One that feels nasty now that I’m seeing it from Pink’s perspective. She had a front-row seat to my dickhead behavior with women and I know better. Puck bunnies are women and deserve respect. More than me.

  Pink is giving me the amount of respect I deserve. Shit.

  Chapter 7

  Pink

  What an idiot I am. I can’t believe I jeopardized my fledgling business to spend time with this man-whore. Why did I think for a damn minute that there might be something between me and him? The big dick-head. I pace around the master bedroom, glancing at the stupid computer taunting me from the desk. I finished doing all the work on the financial statements that I can do without Internet or files from my office. I could be back there by now. I should be back home in my own bedroom right now.

  But I have only myself to blame. He’s being who he is, true to form, the MVP of players, named so by puck bunnies everywhere. Especially the slutty Jillian.

  Okay, I’m just being a bitch now. I don’t know Jillian very well. Besides, I’m no better than she, am I? Pacing around the room, I’m too worked up by my stupidity and lack of work ethic when it counts to settle down to bed.

  “Everything all right in there?” Aiden calls. I can tell that he’s near my door. I should open it up and slap his face. That might help me sleep.

  But if I touch him, even with a slap, I know I’ll want him. Besides, I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how agitated he has me.

  “I’m fine. Go away. What do you care anyway?” I shout back at him through the door. So not cool. I hear him sigh deeply on the other side.

  “Open up, Pink.” It’s not a shout, but I can hear his deep, caring voice clearly. It’s not a command, but I feel compelled by it all the same. Fuck that. I lost two days and nights of work over him.

  “Back off, Aiden.” I stare at the door, waiting, holding my breath, knowing my voice has too much emotional vibration in it, as if I’m barely holding back tears. But that’s crazy because I’m not about to cry. Why would I?

  Then I hear him move away, the sound of his bare feet padding on the hardwood floor, faint and falling off until there’s no sound of him. No sound except the ever-present wind in the trees outside.

  Turning back to the oversize cold bed, I throw myself onto it and swipe at my cheek. Because, damn it, I’m crying after all. For no good reason.

  “Let’s call a truce,” he says, the minute I come out of the bedroom to the great room the next morning.

  I nod because I’m not the dickhead around here. Or at least I don’t want to be.

  I’m cool and he’s contrite. I think that’s as far as our truce is going to go. Until he stands out on the deck in the rain and brews me coffee on an old Coleman stove he found in the basement. He’s soaked through when he comes inside with the old dented-up coffee pot. He gets out of his wet clothes and sets a fire and we both wonder what’s going on with the weather and when we’ll get off the island.

  “The season starts Tuesday morning. I need to get back tomorrow,” he says, serious and for the first time, tense.

  I’m well aware of my earlier bitchiness about his career. I lick my lips, his eyes follow my tongue, and that does all kinds of tingly things to my insides. But I manage to stay focused on contrition.

  “I’m sorry I implied your hockey career isn’t serious. I know it’s important to you. And of course it’s a legitimate job. You bring joy and inspire excellence and a strong work ethic, reaching all kinds of young people who might not otherwise be reached. Your job is important, Aiden, and I had no right to hint otherwise.”

  I don’t know where the hell the words came from. I hadn’t formed the thoughts before speaking. They literally came fully formed from my heart.

  He nods. “Thank you.” He shrugs. “Hockey is just a game, but it’s my game. I love it and I’m protective of it like it’s my mistress. I think all the guys are like that to some degree or other.”

  “I get it.” I smile. “Maybe that’s how I am with my new business, AP Accounting.”

  “Touché.”

  Moe, Larry, and Curly dance around and whine in a chorus and it’s time for them to go out for a bathroom break. I get up from the chair where I’ve been lounging, but Aiden stops me.

  “I got this.” He whistles and the dogs line up and follow him to the back door where he throws on a jacket and pushes outside into the rain.

  Chapter 8

  Aiden

  I go with the pups when I let them out to make sure they don’t go far. Though I doubt they will in this weather. The rain and wind have gotten steadily worse, gusts whipping up now and then to scary velocities. They don’t wander far off the deck, not going as far as the sandy beach. Until a squirrel dashes from under the deck, catching Curly’s attention. She chases the squirrel in spite of my shouted command to stop. When she chases the squirrel around the side of the house, I know I need to run after her. Taking a quick look inside to see if Pink is watching, I see her staring and waving frantically. Shit.

  As I run, I hear a door slam. Moe and Larry scoot inside and Pink is out, shouting after me. I look over my shoulder to see her running in my direction. She has no coat or jacket or anything except a damn white blouse, leggings, and bare feet. Fuck.

  Waving her hands, she shouts, “Don’t stop, don’t let her get away. Go after her.”

  Rounding the corner of the house, I catch sight of Curly in the vision-blurring rain just as she disappears into the trees across the street. It’s a small forest. Fuck. The sky is dark and I’ll never see anything in those woods without a flashlight.

  Hesitating, I turn to go back to the house, running at a sprint toward the front door. Pink cuts me off, catching my arm, her hand shaky and her face a picture of fear.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Curly ran into the woods. We’ll need a flashlight.” I take her hand and drag her with me. “And you need to get back inside.” It’s too late for her to bother with a jacket. She’s soaked through already and even though the temperature isn’t cold, the wind and driving rain are chilling.

  Pink digs in her heels and tugs her hand from me as I get us to the front door.

  “You get the flashlight. I’ll meet you there. Those woods run deep, she could get lost.”

  Before I have a chance to yell at her that she’s the one who’ll get lost, she takes off at a sprint and man she’s fast. “Fuck.”

  I dash into the house, zeroing in on the exact spot where I left the flashlight and then taking it with me as I slam out the front door, running full tilt like my fucking pants are on fire. Once I reach the edge of the trees, I turn on the light and slow down. Spreading the beam around where I saw both Curly and Pink enter the tree line, I spot Pink and she turns around. She makes her way back do me as I look for signs of a small dog trampling through the underbrush. But I’m no tracker.

  “Aiden, I don’t see her anywhere.” Pink’s practically in tears now and I pull her in close to me because she’s shivering like mad.

  “Stick to me. We don’t want to lose you too.” Moving forward, I flash the beam of light from right to left looking for any movement. After we’re a few feet in, the storm’s fury is muffled and I shout for the dog. Pink does the same, adding an impressive whistle.


  We get further into the woods, about the distance of two ice rinks, when I see a movement.

  “There,” Pink says, “I think I see her.” I aim the beam as she takes off in the direction of the movement and when I hear the muffled bark I know we’ve hit pay dirt, thank fuck.

  “Curly, you poor bad little girl.” Pink’s voice is happy and angry and shaky all at once, but mostly happy, as she picks up the puppy and hugs the little beast to her body. They look like a pair of bedraggled orphans, hair and fur soaked and dripping.

  “Let’s get you home,” I say, just as the flashlight flickers. “Fuck.” I grab Pink’s arm and haul ass in the direction we came from, the path somewhat identifiable by the trampled bushes here and there.

  “I should have left breadcrumbs or something,” I say, trying to stay calm and move fast.

  “If they were glow-in-the-dark breadcrumbs,” she says, her teeth chattering now.

  I turn and look at her gorgeous rain-streaked face, just as the flashlight beam goes dark.

  “Fuck,” she says.

  I tug her closer to my side.

  “It’ll be all right. It’s not much further. Our eyes will adjust.” I’m lying my ass off because I have no idea if that’s true, but I keep us moving in the same direction with one hand out in front of me and my feet aimed where I think we should be headed.

  Curly yips and squirms in Pink’s arms.

  “Do not let her go,” I say, slowing down, becoming less sure of our direction as we nearly run into a large tree and my eyes strain to see past a few feet in front of us. Fuck.

  “Maybe Curly can find the way,” Pink says.

  “Do you have her leash?” I ask, hating to be the practical one. “Because if we let her go, she’ll take off without us and even if she does find her way back—”

  “Now who’s the one with no faith in the puppies’ loyalty? She won’t run off.”

  “As long as there’s not another squirrel,” I say. “You’re probably right.” We stop walking. “Okay, put her down. But let me talk to her first.”

  Pink snorts a laugh. “This I’ve got to hear.”

  It’s good to see Pink’s teeth flash in a smile, though it’s barely visible in the gloom of the rainy forest. I take the puppy from her and talk, telling her she needs to find her way back home. Telling her not to leave us behind. “Make sure you bark, so we don’t lose track of you.” I squat down and put her on the ground, still holding onto her.

  “And whatever you do, keep us in your sights.” I let go of her and she barks at me, then sniffs around. She takes off at a trot and I grab Pink’s hand and follow. We reach the edge of the woods within five minutes and Curly darts ahead, beating us to the front door in a race.

  Once we get inside, I go for the blanket on the couch and drape it over Pink’s shoulders, wrapping her in it and holding her.

  “You need to get warmed up.”

  “I-I need to get dry,” she says through chattering teeth. I feel the shuddering go through me and clamp down. She’s right, but I’m reluctant to let her go. I want to be the one to dry her off with a towel so bad, to attend to every corner of her body, to worship it and care for her, make her warm. And then make her hot.

  But I know better than to offer my services at this juncture. According to my calculations, another rejection from Pink will feel like a puck to my groin. Without a cup. So I walk her to the master bedroom.

  “I’ll take care of drying Curly. You get yourself into dry clothes and—” I’ll keep you warm. I want to say the words so bad, but I can’t. I don’t. She meets my eyes and I see them flicker with promise. Or I think I do. But the light is dim and it could be wishful thinking.

  “Okay,” she says. Clenching her teeth against the chattering, she manages a smile.

  I let her go through the door and close it behind her and wait. But there’s no sound of the latch clicking into place. My heart lurches with a spark of hope and a grin finds its way to my face. That’s all I need to get me going again, to make me say fuck you to the storm.

  After I dry Curly vigorously with a towel, I find a too small T-shirt and gym shorts in the guest room closet and change. Back in the great room, I know we need a fire, but the wood pile in the box is low and I know there’s nothing dry outside, so I put it off. Time to conserve.

  Turning to the master bedroom door, I will Pink to open it, to come out and join me. Or better yet, to invite me in. But I shake my head and attend to the puppies, settling them down.

  It doesn’t take long before the dogs are curled up in their bed by the cold fireplace and I put a blanket over them as they sleep in a huddle. Looking around, I decide against finding something to eat. I’m not hungry. Not for food. I look back to the bedroom again, to where Pink is and I wonder if she’s asleep.

  Tiptoeing—something I’m not used to doing—I glide to the bedroom door, feeling like a stealthy jungle cat on the prowl. Listening, I don’t hear anything. She’s probably asleep, but I need confirmation. Or that’s what I tell myself as I push the door open slow and easy, without a sound.

  Candlelight flickers on the dresser, reflected in the mirror. But my eyes are drawn to something else reflected in the mirror, the lithe form of a naked female body, perfect in its balance and grace. Pink turns to me. My mouth is open and dry and silent.

  “There’s no hot water for the shower,” she says.

  “Sorry, I—” I turn away but she stops me with her words.

  “It’s okay. I was about to invite you in. To warm me.”

  Spinning back around, I look hard at her, my dick hearing her perfectly, though my ears might need her to say it twice.

  “You want me naked.” It’s not a question because I don’t want her to say no, but I need her to confirm. Everything in me is seized up with anticipation.

  She nods her head.

  That’s all I need to shut the door behind me. Then I lift the shirt over my head and, watching for her reaction, because I’m more ready for her invitation than I have a right to be, I drop my shorts.

  Chapter 9

  Pink

  I ought to be afraid of his giant hard cock that springs free, pulsing and aimed at me. I ought to be more afraid of the overgrown man-child attached to it. Except he’s better than that, more than that. He’s a full-grown man who would chase a dog for me, who would brew me coffee in the driving rain, and who would let me leave him stuck with three puppies alone—

  But that’s where my dream man falls apart, where the real Aiden makes it clear I shouldn’t be romanticizing him. He wasn’t left alone. He had Jillian waiting in the wings. Even if she was the one to call him, even if I believe him that he wants nothing to do with her, it’s the idea that there are dozens of Jillians out there relentlessly tempting him, and that he could be taken with one of them at any minute because he’s all man. That’s what I’m afraid of.

  Staring at the evidence of his manhood, stiff and proud, desire crowds the hesitation from my mind. The too long denied need takes over thoroughly and completely with a surge of heat.

  “I want your cock in my mouth,” I say.

  The shock of my words shows on his face, shows even more in the wild twitch of his cock. I stand still. I’ve made the first move and I hold my breath, waiting. My heart pumps like I’m running for my life, like the world might end. My wait is short.

  He gives me a delicious, devilish smirk and, in his naked splendor, he closes the distance between us until his hard, hot body touches mine. The shock of his skin against mine makes me shudder, makes my breath come in a heaving rush. I’m so far past questions and hesitations that I reach down between us and grip his silky hard cock in my hand. Closing his eyes and throwing his head back, he groans like a wild animal.

  “Pink . . .”

  A sizzle of excitement runs through me. With my mind turned off, I run solely on instinct as I touch my lips to his taut, muscled chest and I lick.

  “Jesus.” Aiden’s rough quiet voice sets off a flashfi
re between my thighs. He wraps his chiseled arms around me, pressing his cock between us. He strokes his hands down my back then cups my ass, thrusting against me until I move my hand so that I can feel his massive hard-on against my pussy.

  “Bed. We need—” I say until he bites into the flesh of my lower lip in a gentle reprimand in favor of silence.

  Then he lifts me and I find myself back down on the bed, his hot sensual mouth on mine, ravishing and making me senseless with pleasure like he’s transformed me into a sex-crazed animal. My hands rake the rippling meat of his back, pressing him to me. I want to feel the full pressure of his body over mine, but he holds himself above me.

  Releasing my ravaged mouth, he raises himself up, kneeling over me, his hard pulsing manhood dangling above me. I reach up and grip it in my hand and, raising my head up, I take the sticky salty delicious tip into my mouth, running my tongue over the smooth head.

  His groan of pleasure makes me arch up and I can’t resist bringing one hand down to dip into the folds to find my throbbing wet clit, round and smooth and swollen. I shut my eyes as everything in me clenches to mindless pleasure and I suck hard on the pulsing cock in my mouth.

  Aiden’s breath comes on a ragged deep growl so that I barely recognize my name. “Allie . . .” The strain of need in his voice sends me over the top and I let him go, his cock popping from my mouth.

  “I need you.” He says.

  His eyes are dark, glassy pools, intense mirrors of my desperation to have him, to possess him, to join with him. There’s no thought, no judgment, no indecision, no decision, only raw craving so desperate and strong as if the world might end, as if my existence requires him inside me. The answer on his face sends a torrent of heat and deep satisfaction shuddering through me as he lowers himself, skimming his hot mouth across my skin, laving each nipple with a tease of his tongue. I grip his hair and arch into him, but he pulls from me, unrelenting and strong, as he lowers his head down my body, knowing what I need.