by Piper Rayne
“Do you have any siblings?” I ask.
“We’re not talking about me. Answer the question.”
“I like this stern side of you. Turns me on.” I pat the bed next to me.
She acts as though she didn’t see me. “Let’s stay on task.”
“I liked not having any siblings. I had good friends.” Which is true. Armen was my best friend and a brother to me.
“How is your parents’ marriage?”
I don’t much care for these questions. “What about your parents?”
She places the pad of paper in her lap, the pen following. “I’m not sure this is going to work.”
“What?”
She waves her finger between us. “You can’t keep flirting with me.”
She uncrosses her legs and plants both feet on the floor. Fear courses through me that she’s going to leave the room.
“I’m trying not to, but I want you.”
She closes her eyes and inhales. “We’ve been over this.”
I slide down to the corner of the bed, breaking the distance between us. “Tell me you don’t feel this.”
She shakes her head. “It’s just attraction. Nothing more. We can do these sessions, I’ll sign off, and you can move on.”
“And then you’ll allow me to take you out on a date?” I reach forward, but she squeezes her pad of paper with both hands, making me retract mine.
“No. I still work for the Fury.” She shakes her head and packs up her bag. “We can be friends and that’s all.”
I watch her put the pad of paper in the bag, along with the pen. When she stands, I do too, cornering her. “You’ll never quench the thirst you have for me with someone else. I know I never will.”
She looks up at me, and her caramel eyes blind me to any reason why we can’t be together. I step closer.
“What do you need from me in order to cross the line?” I ask in a low, rough voice.
She shakes her head vehemently. “Nothing. I can’t. There are ethics involved.”
“Who the fuck cares? Do you think I’d tell anyone? We’re both adults.”
“People will find out. Plus, I know right now it looks all great, but if this goes sour, you could sue me. I could lose everything.”
I lean forward, reaching around her, and grab the small notepad that comes with the room, along with the pen. I scribble a note and sign my name then date it before handing it to her. “This should handle it.”
She reads over where I wrote. “I am willingly sleeping with Paisley Pearce and firing her from being my therapist regardless of what Mr. Gerhardt wants. He doesn’t own me.”
Her expression falters and she shoots me that look. The one that makes me see her as an innocent injured bird who needs to be loved and cared for. Damn if I don’t want to be her reason to wake up in the morning. “You’re going to do this just so you can sleep with me?”
I shake my head. “This isn’t just about sex. I want to explore this.”
“And Mr. Gerhardt and your therapy?”
“I can deal with him and his demands that I have therapy at another time. For now, we’ll keep this quiet.”
She steps back but hits the edge of the desk. I lean over and place my hands on the desk on either side of her hips, caging her in.
“So you get exactly what you want—no therapy and to sleep with me.”
“I told you, I don’t need therapy.” I take the tie thing from her hair, watching the long dark curls fall down over her shoulders and back. “Tell me you don’t want me, and I’ll back off.”
Our eyes lock. She’s searching for something, but I don’t know what. “I can’t say that.”
I feel almost buoyant. “Let me kiss you.” My voice is soft and cajoling.
Her breath labors and staggers, so I place my hand over her heart, dangerously close to her breast. Picking up her other hand, I place it on my chest. “See? I’m just as nervous.”
“No one will know?” Her gaze darts to my lips.
I shake my head, narrowing the distance between us. “Not a soul.”
“Okay,” she agrees.
I’m so fucking happy that I freeze for a moment before I bend down, bringing my lips within inches of hers. I smile and my tongue slides out, skating over my bottom lip. I’m ready to kiss the shit out of this woman—finally. I’m half a second away from what I’ve wanted for months when the hotel room door flies open.
“Saige, you’re being unreasonable,” Aiden’s voice sounds.
Paisley slides out from between my arms, rushing to collect her stuff.
“Don’t go,” I whisper.
I look down at my tented shorts. Fuck. I quickly turn and tuck my hard-on under the elastic waistband of my track shorts, covering it with my T-shirt before facing him again.
“Sorry, guys, I’ll be out in a second. I forgot this.” Aiden holds up a picture of Saige on a wooden stick.
“Oh no, I was just leaving.” Paisley looks at the corny picture. “Cute idea.”
“Paisley…” I say.
“Good luck tonight, guys.” She never looks at me, and she’s out the door before I can protest further.
“You fucking idiot,” I say to Aiden who’s still talking to Saige, oblivious to what he just interrupted.
Then he leaves the room and I flop forward on the mattress and scream into my pillow. After a moment, I slide up against the headboard, turning on the television. I guess it’s porn and a nap. At least I don’t have to worry about a change of routine fucking up my game.
Mid-game, I catch sight of Paisley sitting in the front row. Usually she’s up in the suites, but Mr. Gerhardt didn’t come with us this trip. She’s eating a pretzel and watching the game, but every time I get close to the glass, her gaze diverts away from me. I had her right there, then fucking Aiden had to fuck it up for me.
Sometime in the second period, McGregor high sticks Aiden and red veils my eyes. It’s a cheap shot against one of our best players, so screw McGregor. I skate over and push him into the boards. He falls and loses his stick. Glancing back at me, he has that look in his eyes, the challenge telling me he thinks he can kick my ass. Let’s see about that.
I throw down my gloves, but before we get into it, I hear the buzzer. Satisfaction that my team just scored fills me, which only pisses off McGregor more.
The referees skate next to us, ready to get between us if it gets too dirty. This is when I wonder what it was like to play hockey back in the day. Players like Bobby Orr or Paul Coffey, when it wasn’t all talk about concussions and political shit. You went out on the ice and you played hard as fuck to win that game no matter what it took.
I grab McGregor’s jersey and use it to flail him around a bit. He throws the first punch, nailing me in the eye, but I hammer back another one. Soon both our fists are flying, and we each have a hand on a jersey. But way too soon, the refs break it up and we’re thrown in the penalty box.
As I sit there, my gaze lingers on Paisley. She’s biting her lip and staring at me, her look soft yet concerned. Heckles and chirping come from the opposing fans surrounding me in the penalty box. Toronto fans are faithful ones, and they’re pissed I went after one of their guys.
Midway through my penalty, I can’t take it anymore and raise both my hands, flipping off the fans. Of course, boos ring out. Because it would be no other way, the cameras catch it and there I am on the Jumbotron. Either I own it or show I’m soft, so I own it, standing and flipping off the entire arena.
When I’m finally out of the box, I rush back out on the ice and do my fucking job. The one I was hired to do. The one that pays me a shitload of money. I couldn’t care less if the Toronto fans hate me. It’s all part of the game. I have to be intimidating and show no weakness if I want people to fear me and fear fucking with the rest of my boys on the ice.
My repercussion comes after a two-to-one win. Coach calls me into the office and asks me to shut the door.
“Flipping off the entire arena? A bit
much, no?” He sits down and pours himself a glass of Jack Daniels.
“You should have heard what they said.”
“They’re fans, they’re supposed to razz you. You’re the professional athlete, being paid millions. You need to control yourself.” He sips his drink.
I debate asking for one. I could use a shot to calm me down. All I want to do is fuck Paisley Pearce until I pass out, but I’ve ruined my chance by not being able to hold it all together for three therapy sessions. That pissed me off, and I took it out on McGregor.
“I’m sorry, Coach, it won’t happen again.”
He downs the rest of his drink. “I hate to break it to you, but people don’t like enforcers as much anymore. We both know there’s a place for them and we need guys like you to keep the other team honest and not go after our high scorers, but you have to do better with the fans.” He pours himself another drink.
“Got it.”
“I hope so. Now go play whatever video game is cool right now, or go get laid, go hunting and kill some wild animal—whatever you need to do to get some of this temper out of you.” He shoos me away with his hand and I leave his office.
I’m not going to do any of those things, but I am going to deal with Paisley. That somehow feels equally as dangerous as dealing with a wild animal.
“I can’t control the man, Mr. Gerhardt.” I pace my hotel room floor, the television paused on the Sex and the City rerun I was watching.
“He’s not getting any better. Pretty soon he’s going to get himself in more trouble than he’s worth.”
I blow out a breath.
“I mean, Canada is known for their polite people,” he says. “The fans couldn’t have said anything that bad.”
“I’m not sure why he did it. He’s not exactly the easiest man to crack,” I say, regretting my words immediately.
“I get the whole Russian silence act, but something tells me you have it in you to get to the bottom of this issue. Protecting your teammates is one thing. Spraying fans with water bottles and flipping them off is another. Fans are the ones who pay his salary.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” I say.
A knock on the door sounds. For a moment, I’d forgotten I ordered room service. I tuck the phone between my ear and my shoulder, opening the door and expecting to find a tray of food. I do, but it’s accompanied by Maksim’s smiling face. He nods into the room, and I open the door wider, allowing him in. He sets the tray on the dresser and peeks under the stainless steel lid.
I say loudly enough for Maksim to hear, “I need to run. My dinner just arrived.”
“Report back to me when you get back,” Mr. Gerhardt orders.
“Will do.”
“Have a good night, Paisley.”
The call dies, and I tuck my phone in the back pocket of my jeans.
“Who was that?” Maksim asks.
“Your boss,” I say
His eyebrows shoot up. “He pissed about the flipping off situation?” His back falls to the mattress and he stares at the ceiling.
“Of course. What were you thinking?” I’m slightly pissed myself, because I know he can control himself better than that.
“I wasn’t thinking. I was pissed, which is why I’m here.”
I cross my arms. “You shouldn’t be here. Someone might have seen you.”
“You’re ruining me,” he says.
“What?”
“I want you so bad it aches. I thought I could do it. I mean, I have the kind of willpower it would take to push you out of my mind, but damn, you’re too much. You won’t leave my head.” He sits back up.
I stare blankly, unsure how to respond. No man has ever said anything like that to me.
“You barely know me.”
“And I want to get to know you. I want to know everything.”
I shake my head. For a brief moment, I was enamored by what he was saying. “You mean you want to know what kind of panties I wear. If I’m loud when I come and if I like dirty talk in bed. Those are the things you’re thinking about.”
“Fuck yeah, I do.”
I nod, pleased with myself that I was correct.
“But I also want to know why you picked a pretzel over nachos today. And why you ordered a salad with grilled chicken right now. And I fucking love that you ordered dessert even though you tried for a nutritious dinner.”
“Because I have a sweet tooth. It’s not unique.”
“Still, what’s your favorite dessert?”
I shake my head. “I have a lot.”
“I’m not really asking. I want to discover all this stuff by being with you. All the small things that make you, you. Do I want to have sex with you? I do. But I also want all of you. Your thoughts, your fears, your desires and pet peeves. Everything.”
I walk toward the window, turning my back to Maksim so I can clear my thoughts. He’s too gorgeous for me to not fall to my knees and beg him to take me. But he’ll only hurt me. I know it. “How many girls do you take back to your room in a season?”
“Is that where your reluctancy is coming? You think I say this to every girl?”
I shrug, not turning around.
“I’ve never had a shittier season with the amount of time I’ve been in the penalty box. Ever since I met you, I haven’t been myself.”
“You have no idea if it’s me or not.” I continue to look at the dark sky of Toronto and the city glittering out for miles below.
“When I was skating down the ice tonight, I was searching you out. I know you saw me.”
I did, but a guy like Maksim Petrov knows how to woo a woman. He’s not a stranger to going with gusto after what he wants and getting it. And there’s something appealing about that. Something that makes me want to say yes to tonight. To cross that line with him and allow him to show me how a woman should feel in bed with a man. Give me the kind of orgasms I hear other women talk about. The only question that needs answering is whether I can walk out of here tomorrow morning without developing any feelings for him because that’s all we could ever be—a one-and-done.
“I’d have to refer you to someone else,” I whisper, afraid of the thoughts going through my head. Am I really thinking about doing this?
“I signed that paper and I meant it.” The bed squeaks from his weight lifting off of it. “I don’t need therapy anyway.”
I blow out a breath and tighten my arms around myself. His hands land on my shoulders and my eyes drift closed.
“Why are you fighting so hard against this?” he whispers.
His aftershave hits my nostrils, filling me with the same feeling I had on New Year’s Eve. That kiss felt so magical, as if I was warped into some fairy tale, only for me to open my eyes to a nightmare as though Mr. Gerhardt was my wicked stepmother.
Take this, Paisley. Take something for yourself and to hell with the consequences for once.
I circle around and his hands fall to my hips.
“You’re so fucking stunning,” he says, his eyes pouring affection over me like lava, slow and hot.
“You don’t have to keep complimenting me. You’re going to get what you want tonight.” I raise on my tiptoes and close my eyes just before my lips press against… a stubbled cheek? What the heck?
I open my eyes and fall back down on my heels. Maksim turns his head back to me. I’ve never seen this look before.
“What does that mean?” His sweet syrupy voice turns cool.
“You want to have sex and I’m saying okay.”
He steps back. “That’s not what this is about, Paisley. It’s not just sex.”
I roll my eyes. “You don’t have to put on an act. I know exactly why you’re in my hotel room. I’m flattered to make the cut, and you’re right, I’m attracted to you.”
He shakes his head, shoving his hands into his pockets. “You still think you’re just some piece of ass for me.”
I walk over and sit on the bed. “I’ve been around hockey guys most of my life. Sure, there
are some good ones out there, but most just want sex. Don’t act like your pride is hurt because I’m calling you out on it. I said okay. You’re finally getting what you want.” I grab the hem of my shirt and tear it off over my head.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m giving you what you want. Why are you acting all noble now?”
His hands go into his hair. “What the hell is happening right now?”
“That’s my question. Shouldn’t I be on my third orgasm by now?”
His eyes narrow. “What the hell happened to you?”
I’m growing irritated that he’s not kissing me yet. He’s the one who’s been pursuing me. Why is he being difficult now?
“Put your shirt back on.”
“Why?” I stretch out on the bed. “I’m making this easier on you.”
He comes over to the bed and his finger winds around one of my curls. “I don’t want you like this. I want to date you. Like I said—”
“And you also want to sleep with me, correct?” All that other stuff he said was bullshit, so why won’t he just get down with what I’m offering?
“Yes. More than anything. Except for showing you I’m not the guy you think I am.” He picks up my shirt and shoves the opening over my head.
I huff and my mouth drops open. “You’re denying me?”
“Yes.”
“Way to make a girl feel wanted.”
He takes my hand and places it between his legs. “This should tell you everything you need to know, but I’m walking away anyway. I’m going back to my room and I’m going to bed. You’ll figure it out soon enough that I’m not just blowing smoke up your ass, kotik.”
His dick is half hard and big. Like really big. Damn, maybe I shouldn’t have called him out on his bullshit. Maybe if I hadn’t, he’d already be rocking inside me, filling me. I suck in a breath, thinking about that. My hand drops to my lap as he walks toward the door.
“You’ve got great tits, by the way. I would’ve devoured them.” He opens the door and leaves.
I fall down to the mattress. What the hell just happened?
After I’ve sulked for a while, I grab my phone and dial up Jana, tearing the lid off the chocolate cake from room service.
