by Grey, S. R.
Boys of Winter #2
Table of Contents
Title Page
Other Books by S.R. Grey
About Resistance on Ice
Chapter One: Shock Jock Itch
Chapter Two: Seriously, Nolan, Strippers?
Chapter Three: Change of Plans
Chapter Four: What is this Freaking Secret?
Chapter Five: What the F*ck Are You Wearing
Chapter Six: You Deserve More than a Kick in the Balls, Nolan
Chapter Seven: I Did Not Need to Hear That!
Chapter Eight: Nolan on the Ice Makes Me Realize Something
Chapter Nine: Friends? Yeah, I Can Do This . . . Maybe
Chapter Ten: Do They Make Burlap Sacks in Size Four?
Chapter Eleven: What Happens in Vegas Stays in Vegas
Chapter Twelve: The Truth, At Last
Chapter Thirteen: Coach T Will Have My Ass If That Happens
Chapter Fourteen: Matchmaking Me
Chapter Fifteen: I Just Can’t Stay Away from Tits and Ass
Chapter Sixteen: Rack City, Bitch
Chapter Seventeen: You Gotta Be F*cking Kidding Me
Chapter Eighteen: My Knight in Shining Armor
Chapter Nineteen: So Much for Follow-Through, Solvenson
Chapter Twenty: Life Goes On
Chapter Twenty-One: Am I In Love? If so, F*ck!
Chapter Twenty-Two: Woohoo . . . Not
Chapter Twenty-Three: You Gotta Play to Win
Chapter Twenty-Four: This Job Can’t End Soon Enough
Chapter Twenty-Five: Listen to Your Heart
Chapter Twenty-Six: Rescue Me
Chapter Twenty-Seven: I Should Kill the Bastard
Chapter Twenty-Eight: Last Nights and Lost Words
Chapter Twenty-Nine: All the Words
Chapter Thirty: Ecstasy, and Not the Drug
Chapter Thirty-One: She Never Saw That One Coming
Chapter Thirty-Two: There’s No Stopping Us Now
Chapter Thirty-Three: Spreading the Love
Chapter Thirty-Four: Area 51 Revisited
Chapter Thirty-Five: Coming Clean
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Destiny on Ice
Copyright Notice
Boys of Winter series
Destiny on Ice
Resistance on Ice
Judge Me Not series
I Stand Before You
Never Doubt Me
Just Let Me Love You
The After of Us
Inevitability duology
Inevitable Detour
Inevitable Circumstances
Promises series
Tomorrow’s Lies
Today’s Promises
A Harbour Falls Mystery trilogy
Harbour Falls
Willow Point
Wickingham Way
Laid Bare novella series
Exposed: Laid Bare 1
Unveiled: Laid Bare 2
Spellbound: Laid Bare 3
Sacrifice: Laid Bare 4
Hockey star Nolan Solvenson is nothing short of skilled perfection, both on and off the ice. Or so everyone thinks. His teammates are constantly hitting him up for advice, but really, when it comes to his own life, Nolan can't seem to make the right moves anymore.
Blame it all on Lainey Shelburne, a woman he wants but is determined to keep at arm’s length. That’s why, after a few sexy encounters, he unceremoniously blows her off.
When they’re reunited, facing off against the fiery cocktail waitress becomes the challenge of his life. Lainey is furious with him for dumping her and wants nothing more than to kick him in the junk. But Nolan—typical man—is only interested in getting Lainey back in his bed.
That plan is shot all to hell when they reach a shaky truce and Lainey drops the bomb that all she’s looking for now is a "just friends" relationship with Nolan.
Take that, Mr. Hot Right Winger!
Suddenly, the "know-it-all" athlete is skating on thin ice as he tries to hide his burgeoning feelings from the one woman who has the ability to thaw his heart. But is Lainey willing to try a relationship with him again? Can Nolan resist the urge to walk away?
Resistance on Ice is a fun standalone novel and the second installment in the bestselling Boys of Winter hockey romance series.
Sports Romance/Romantic Comedy
**STANDALONE NOVEL**
**EACH BOOK IN THE BOYS OF WINTER SERIES FEATURES A DIFFERENT SMOKING HOT HOCKEY PLAYER'S STORY**
Shock Jock Itch
“Here with us on the air this morning—and it’s a hot one out there today, folks—we have with us the man the Toronto Sun recently named ‘Player to Watch This Upcoming Hockey Season.’ You know him as the talented first line right winger for the Las Vegas Wolves. That’s right, gang, I’m talking about the Wolves, the hockey team that surprised us all in June when they won Lord Stanley’s Cup. So, without further ado, please join me in welcoming Mr. Nolan Solvenson.”
Radio host Marty Quick turns to me and smiles his trademark cocky, wolfish grin. Damn, this guy may look like a science nerd, what with the bad comb-over and retro horn-rimmed glasses, but he has me beat when it comes to attitude.
Then again, maybe not, since swagger is my middle name.
“Hey, man,” he begins, with false sincerity. “Thanks for taking time out of your busy schedule to hang with us this morning. Big congratulations on all your recent successes.”
He’s being nice enough, but I don’t trust him one bit. Everyone knows Marty has a knack for digging up skeletons from your past. And Lord knows mine is a veritable graveyard.
I take a quick swig of the dark roast I picked up from Timmy’s on my way here. It was an attempt to fortify myself for this syndicated sports talk radio interview I’ve resisted all summer. Sadly, even the Tim Horton’s coffee I love tastes bitter today.
Forcing a smile, I reply, “Thanks, Marty. I’m happy to be here.”
Am I really happy to be here?
Fuck, no!
What kind of crazy fool would purposely place themselves in the line of fire of Canada’s own Howard Stern-like shock jock?
Not me.
But my agent insisted. Only because he has no idea of the secrets I have buried. Some are from my distant past, but a few are fairly recent.
One of the not-too-long-ago indiscretions involves the soon-to-be sister-in-law of Brent Oliver, who just happens to be the captain of our team. He would not be happy to learn I spent this past winter hooking up with his fiancée’s sister. It could be worse, though. Aubrey, Brent’s feisty fiancée, might outright kill me if she ever finds out I thoroughly corrupted her sister, Lainey Shelburne.
Okay, Aubrey may not kill me kill me, but she’d definitely crush my balls. I wince at the graphic image that conjures up, and Marty Quick eyes me curiously.
The wheels in his head are turning. He suspects I have something to hide. And I do, a lot of things, but I’m not about to share a single one with him.
We break for a commercial and, worried he’ll pursue a line of questioning that could land me in hot water when we get back on the air, I try to divert his attention by wincing again. Only this time I make a big show of it, twisting around and stretching my leg out under the table.
“Fucking groin pulls,” I mutter, acting all in-pain. “They’re a real bitch when you sit for too long.”
I don’t really have a groin pull, nor have I sat for all that long, but ole Marty buys it hook, line, and sinker. We talk about injuries throughout the rest of the break, and when the interview resumes I bring up my summer travels as another good way to keep him off my dick.
“Sounds like you got around a hell
of a lot,” he says when I review, in great detail, all the places I traveled to during the off-season.
“Yeah, yeah, I did,” I confirm.
The more I talk of my international travels, the more I realize this topic isn’t such a great idea either. It reminds me of the reason why I traveled so much, and that puts me in a solemn mood. Hell, Marty doesn’t need another reason to eye me up suspiciously. ’Cause then will come the questions.
Only I need to know my original plan was to spend as much time with Lainey as I could this summer. That plan was shot all to hell, though, when we went our separate ways. That’s why I took up traveling the globe.
C’est la vie.
Marty does look at me a little funny when I sigh, but thankfully he just moves on to questions about our Cup run. Since these are easy ones that I’ve answered a hundred times, I go straight to autopilot. That gives me the chance to mull over how I should’ve stayed the hell away from Lainey Shelburne in the first place. Though I have to say the cards were stacked against me from day one.
Did I ever really have a chance?
Probably not, since Lainey is simply too gorgeous for any man, including me, to pass by. She’s a raven-haired beauty, with the most stunning turquoise eyes, the kind a guy can lose himself in, which I did regularly. And don’t even get me started on her curvy little bod.
Yeah, I was a goner from the start.
I also discovered early on that Lainey’s—and I really love this one—a freak in the sack. She may very well be the most insatiable girl I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.
And trust me, I’ve known a lot.
I used to think I was high up on the freaky scale, but Lainey’s right there with me. Not only does she want sex all the time, any place and any way, but like me, she’s into toys and other assorted kink.
In other words, she’s my kind of girl.
Too bad we couldn’t make it work.
Before the bad shit went down, she and I were not only set to spend the summer together, we were also planning to meet up at Brent and Aubrey’s lakehouse in Minnesota. Everything got all blown to hell when I acted like an ass.
Fuck, though, that was then and this is now.
I realize right in that moment, in the middle of this stupid interview, and while answering another playoff run question, that I want Lainey back.
Yes, I do. And I’m going to make it happen, damn it.
Marty finishes up with his Stanley Cup questions, and goes straight to the place that had me dreading this interview in the first place.
“Let’s get to the good stuff, Solvenson,” he begins, grinning over at me like a perv. “Word on the street is you’re quite the ladies’ man.”
Looking down at the tiny table that separates me from the host in what has taken on the feel of a far too enclosed space, I run my hand through my dark hair. “I don’t know about that,” I reply. “Rumors are usually just that—rumors.”
He’s unconvinced, I can tell, but too bad. This is a question I plan to evade like my reputation depends on it. And it may. After I fucked things up with Lainey back in April, I was so distraught that I sought out solace in the form of a slew of strippers.
And I don’t mean I found comfort in being with a new one night after night.
Er, though I may have done some of that too.
“Aw, come on,” Marty continues in his patented taunting tone. “All of Canada—no, wait, all of North America wants an answer.” Shit, this show does have a far reach. “Is it true you banged ten strippers in one night?”
I laugh nervously. “No, no, that’s not true at all.”
It was actually nine and occurred over the course of two days, but who’s counting?
Not me. And not anyone else if I have anything to say about it. Besides, the only thing that matters is I’m not technically lying.
See, that’s my shtick in life—being clever, outwitting everyone. I’m a wise old sage at the age of twenty-six. My teammates call me things like “sensei” and “Yoda.” And, hey, I’m cool with that. Why wouldn’t I be? It works out great for me.
That’s why if I stick to the gray areas now with Marty, I can successfully evade giving him a straight answer for the next ten minutes, the time left in the interview.
Yeah, you’re real clever all right. So clever you outwitted your own damn self with the shit you pulled with Lainey.
“You look a little uneasy there,” Shock Jock observes when he sees me frowning. “You sure there’s not even a modicum of truth to that stripper story.”
“Yep, I’m sure,” I snap.
I need to get out of here, and fast. I’m done talking about strippers. And I’m done with this shitty interview. But most of all, I’m done with staying away from Lainey. It’s time we have a talk—a real talk.
And if talking doesn’t work, I’ll do what I do best—fuck her till she agrees to start seeing me again.
Seriously, Nolan, Strippers?
I swear Nolan Solvenson is every bad hockey cliché come to life. He’s not only a manwhore; he’s a manwhore who seems to have an obsession with strippers.
Nolan also has a huge commitment problem, which I oh-so-happily—not!—discovered this past spring.
And that’s where I draw the line.
I could have dealt with the not-keeping-his-dick-in-his-pants issue. Simply because when he was with me I was the one he was taking it out for. His man-whoring started and ended with me.
And I thoroughly enjoyed every minute of it.
For all of Nolan’s flaws—and yes, there are many—I can honestly say he’s faithful to the core when he truly cares about someone. And he truly cared about me. Of that, I have no doubt. It’s just that his stupid issues got in the way.
I sigh and press my foot down harder on the brake. It’s a pointless exercise since I’m already stopped in traffic. But now I’m stressed to the max too.
Too much Nolan-obsessing has this effect, which begs the question—why do my thoughts still wander to that man? We’re over, we’re done. But it’s like my heart doesn’t know, particularly when I have too much time on my hands. Like now.
But oh, how’ve I’ve tried to keep extra busy this summer. I spent a ton of time hanging out with my friends, when I was still in Pennsylvania and staying with my parents. But then I ended up here in Vegas a couple of weeks ago. After having no luck back east in the job search quest, I decided to try to find a good marketing job out here.
While I search, I’m living with my sister, Aubrey, and her fiancé, Brent. Aubrey’s been good at keeping me busy, but I’m kind of tiring of our endless lunches and spa dates. I’m also officially sick of helping her plan her wedding. It makes me think of Nolan…and what could’ve been.
I sigh. If I were working I wouldn’t have time to obsess over Nolan Solvenson. But then again, at this point, nothing short of a lobotomy could get him out of my head.
If only he’d had the balls to move forward, I wouldn’t have this problem. But noooo, that stubborn man couldn’t get onboard with making any kind of freaking commitment to the woman—me!—he was doing it with regularly.
It wasn’t like I was being unreasonable, either. I never gunned for a proposal of marriage, or anything as over the top as that. I didn’t even rally for him to proclaim his hopeless devotion to me, though I wouldn’t have complained if he had.
But truly, I really only wanted one thing, maybe two—for him to declare us as exclusive and let the world know we were more than fuck buddies.
You’d have thought from his reaction that I’d asked him to make me his wife right then and there, that night I brought it up. What with the way he clammed up and brushed me off. Too bad he couldn’t have been more wrong. As established, I’m perfectly happy leaving all the annoying wedding crap to the girls who love it, like Aubrey. It seems it can take you over, and Bridezilla I’m not.
Not that Aubrey is either, but I swear ever since Brent proposed to her she’s been obsessed with searching for the
perfect wedding venue, scouting for the best photographer, and studying floral arrangements like world peace depends on it. Name any kind of planning-a-wedding activity, and I can assure you Aubrey’s either on it, in it, or surrounded by it.
And the damn wedding isn’t even till next summer, so go figure.
Me, I’m a much simpler girl. That’s why when I hooked up with Nolan on New Year’s Eve, the fateful night this all began, nothing about us was ever complicated. I was just a horny girl looking for a good fuck. And I got exactly that with him. See, Nolan is a freaking god when it comes to all things sex.
The things that man can do with his fingers, his mouth, his cock…
Go ahead and color me slutty, but the moment I laid eyes on him I knew he’d be good. What with the way he moved in his finely tailored dark suit, like a sophisticated secret agent on the prowl, and a gorgeous one at that. I remember every detail about him too—the way his jet-black hair was all slicked back and how his ice-blue eyes penetrated my every pore. I wanted him to penetrate something else, using his hard hockey player’s bod like I suspected he could.
And he did.
Nolan ended up exploring and exploiting every secret place that night. He fucked me on his bed, on the floor, across his huge wooden dresser, and against the wall in his bedroom.
The following morning, after I left his house, which happens to be a few doors down from Brent and Aubrey’s place, I felt like a woman who’d finally met her match.
Nolan had left me exposed, open, and wanting more. But only from him, this man who was as insatiable as me.
What woman doesn’t love that quality, especially when the Mr. Insatiable in question is highly skilled?
I squirm in my seat, just thinking about it. God, I hate that he has this kind of power over me, even after not seeing him for four long months.
“Calm down,” I hiss, willing my traitorous body to chill.
I haven’t had sex in so long that I must be going crazy. And now I’m horny as hell. Damn Nolan. I swear, if I wasn’t stuck in barely moving traffic, smack dab in the middle of the freaking Las Vegas Strip—and oh yeah, on my way to grab lunch again with Aubrey—I’d pull over and touch myself till I got off.
