The Rebel: A Second Chance Hockey Romance (Looking to Score Book 1)

by Kendall Ryan

  Beyond him, I peer out at the balcony, with two inviting lounge chairs, complete with plush cushions and sherpa-lined flannel blankets. Flickering candles and a string of white twinkle lights complete the look. It’s romantic as all get-out, but the effort of it doesn’t match with the stony-faced man I see standing before me.

  “Well, I . . .” I pause, clearing my throat. “If something’s come up, or now is a bad time, I can just—”

  “It’s fine,” he mutters again, but he doesn’t meet my gaze.

  It stings more than I care to admit. Tears blur my eyes, but I refuse to cry.

  Where is the man who swept me into his arms and kissed me senseless the moment I entered his hotel room? Where is the man I cuddled with after our steamy session in that hotel bed? I sensed he didn’t want to let me go that night, and now it’s the complete opposite . . . it’s like he doesn’t want me here. I have no idea what could have possibly changed since he invited me over last night.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know if you’ve changed your mind, or . . .” I take a step back, and he doesn’t try to stop me. “I think I’ll just go,” I manage to say, my voice a little shaky.

  Even as I say the words, he looks detached, his eyes looking anywhere but directly at me.

  A hot flood of anger and rejection rage inside me. What a dick. Why couldn’t he just be honest and tell me he isn’t interested?

  I suddenly feel so foolish for my wide-eyed optimism about how tonight would unfold. I blow-dried my hair. Wore my best lingerie. But fuck this. I’m not going to beg for any man’s attention. I have more self-respect than that.

  With purposeful strides, I head for the door, but three steps in and Holt catches me around the waist.

  “Eden.”

  My name on his lips is rough, almost broken. It guts me.

  I turn to face him. “What?”

  “I’m sorry.” He exhales slowly, looking pained. “Let me explain.”

  “What happened?” I hate the broken sound of my voice, but I’m near tears and barely holding it together.

  “My mom called. Just before you came.”

  I hear his words, but they make no sense. I don’t understand what one thing has to do with the other. “Okay.” When he doesn’t say anything else, I begin to soften. “Is everything okay?”

  He runs one hand over the day-old stubble on his jaw. “Yes and no. Do you want to sit down?”

  I hesitate, and then decide I’m being a terrible guest. Clearly, something is wrong to make Holt react this way. Deciding to show him compassion, even when I feel the need to guard my heart, I gesture to the sofa. “Let’s sit.”

  He follows me to the couch and takes the seat beside me. With a heavy exhale, Holt looks down at the floor. “I’m sorry I ruined our date.”

  He looks like a man who has a lot on his mind, and my heart goes out to him. “Will you tell me the reason a therapist gave you that book?”

  He looks somewhat surprised by my question, but he turns to me and meets my eyes. “We’re similar in that we take on too much. I don’t own a hockey franchise, but at that time, when I went to the therapist, I had the weight of the world on my shoulders in other ways. Decided it might help if I talked to someone.”

  I take his big rough hand and squeeze. “You can tell me, Holt.”

  He clears his throat and shifts uncomfortably. “My mom is an addict. She’s been addicted to pain pills for as long as I can remember.”

  It’s the last thing in the world I expected him to say. I recall him telling me about his shaky family connections, but he never mentioned drug use. I sensed that they just weren’t all that close. I never suspected trauma, and it makes me ache for him. It also makes me understand him a bit more, why he’s so guarded. He’s no doubt been through some hard times.

  “A few years ago, I got so burned out and tired and depressed from always having to be the one to take care of her. Picking up the pieces for the thousandth time without knowing if anything can ever be fixed is mentally exhausting.”

  I nod reassuringly and wait for him to continue.

  “I decided to go and talk to someone. She made me see that I play one small role, being a good son, but beyond that—my mom’s sobriety, the costs for rehab—all of it wasn’t my responsibility.”

  “It sounds like it was good advice.”

  He nods. “Yeah. I guess.”

  “So, what happened tonight? Is she okay?”

  With a sorrowful look, he meets my gaze. “She’s been in and out of rehab many times. Tonight she had a relapse.”

  “Is she okay?” I hear myself asking.

  He nods. “For now. Yes, I guess so.” With a heavy sigh, he puts his head in his hands. “It’s just such a mess.”

  I press a hand to his shoulder and rub, not knowing what else to do.

  A moment later, he opens his eyes and looks over at me. “Thanks. I’m sorry about all of this.”

  Shaking my head, I correct him. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

  My emotions are all over the place. First, there’s a flooding sense of relief that he hasn’t rejected me, but it’s short-lived because his mother’s situation sounds grim. I listen as he fills me in on his childhood, on what it was like growing up with a mom addicted to drugs, and he holds little back.

  After a while, I wrap Holt in a big hug, which he returns. We stay like that for a few minutes, and when we pull back, I feel calmer. I hope he does too.

  We decide to pour some wine and order a pizza because the meal he planned to make tonight has been long forgotten. And I am more than okay with that, because . . . pizza. And Holt. It’s a win-win.

  We refill our wineglasses and take our slices on paper plates out to the balcony that looks so inviting. And it is. As we settle under blankets, little lights twinkle around us.

  Our conversations tonight have turned deeper, and even though I feel for him, I actually love that he’s sharing part of himself with me.

  And it’s far from one-sided. I share memories from my childhood too. About my dad’s run for office, and my parents’ later divorce. Ugh. That was rough. As was my breakup with Alex, which we touch on briefly.

  But then Holt changes the subject, and I’m grateful. I sense he doesn’t want to hear all the gory details any more than I want to relive them. It’s in the past. With a pang of emotion, I wish Holt’s troubles were in the rearview mirror too. I have no idea what’s going to happen with his mom, but I can see by the set of his shoulders it’s something that weighs heavily on him.

  We finish our food but linger together, huddled under the warmth of a blanket.

  “Thanks for opening up to me tonight. I want you to know, you don’t have to hide those things from me.”

  He gives me a grim smile. “You mean the ugly parts.”

  I shake my head and press a hand to his cheek. “There’s nothing ugly about you, Holt Rossi.”

  My words are the absolute truth. He’s courageous and beautiful. And kind and protective. The depth of my feelings for him scare me. I still don’t know where we stand, and I have no idea why, but everything seems like it could be on the verge of crumbling. Only I hope that’s not the case.

  He glances to the street below before meeting my gaze. “Did you ever want something you can’t have?”

  A wave of lust rolls through me. “Yes.” My voice is just a whisper.

  21

  * * *

  HOLT

  I guide Eden to my bedroom as my heart pounds steadily.

  Part of me can’t believe this is happening. I thought I ruined our date earlier with my foul mood, but Eden doesn’t look bothered by any of that. She climbs onto the bed and dutifully lifts her arms so I can remove her sweater.

  Dressed in a black bra and dark jeans, she looks like a sexy temptress. I have no idea how I’ve ended up lucky enough to get her into bed tonight.

  As we kiss, Eden unsnaps her bra, momentarily distracting me. She’s so damn beautiful. I caress her breasts whi
le her hand drifts south, causing a stir of arousal in my boxers.

  Between kisses, we take turns removing each other’s clothes. Eden isn’t the shy, uncertain girl she once was. She wants this—wants me. That much is obvious by the way she tugs at my belt to free it from my jeans. My body hums with anticipation.

  After several minutes of removing and tossing stray articles of clothing to the floor, we lie together bare, kissing and moving as her breathy sighs and soft moans succeed at cranking my libido to an uncomfortable twelve out of ten.

  She kisses me like this moment is important, like I mean something to her other than being a guy she can swap a few orgasms with. It’s a dangerous thought for me to be thinking because I know the gulf that separates us.

  Forcing myself to break the kiss, I move to my side and grab a condom from the nightstand. Keep a clear head, Rossi. This isn’t important or special. It’s just a hookup. Just like the one we shared in college that wasn’t even meaningful enough for Eden to stick around for until morning.

  “Let me help with that,” she murmurs, taking the condom from me and working it down onto my shaft.

  I’ve never had a woman help with this task, but something about her touch makes it all the more erotic. I hover over her and plant gentle kisses on her throat as I line myself up between her parted thighs. She keeps her eyes on mine as I slowly press forward, beginning to ease myself inside.

  My eyes sink closed as pleasure sizzles through my body. She’s so damn warm and wet, and every inch of her is inviting. It’s an almost spiritual moment.

  I keep my pace slow, leisurely at first. I can’t ruin this by coming yet, as much as my body is in favor of that idea. The base of my spine tingles and my balls ache. But I have to make this equally as good for Eden.

  I want to confess so many things to her, but the words catch in my throat. I want to promise to always keep her safe. I want to beg her to stay with me—always. I want her to be mine and no one else’s.

  Of course, I say none of those things out loud because I learned a long time ago that hope is a dangerous thing. Eden will probably get her fill of me and move on once she realizes where we each are in the pecking order.

  I chase the sad thought away with a steady snapping of my hips. She whimpers, pressing her pelvis to mine, meeting me stroke for stroke.

  “Fuck, you feel good,” I say, groaning.

  “So do you.” She sounds breathless, and I love it. Love knowing that I’m driving her wild with desire, just like she does to me.

  “Did you ever think about it?” she asks, surprising me.

  “This?” I breathe out the word, pressing my mouth to her throat, and she nods. “All the time. Did you?”

  I’m dying to hear her answer. Did she think about us fucking as often as I did?

  Eden meets my eyes, and like she’s admitting to a long-guarded secret, she nods.

  Male pride surges through me, and my pulse rate increases. So does my tempo.

  We’ve waited so long for this moment, and now that it’s here, it’s even better than I could have anticipated. I feel . . . well, pleasure, obviously, but there’s also a sense of peace I didn’t expect. We’re like two halves of a whole, finally together again. No one understands me quite the way Eden seems to.

  “Holt,” she cries, pressing her fingernails into my shoulder. “There.”

  It’s better than I imagined it would be when she starts to come. And believe me, I imagined it a lot—what our first time together might feel like. It’s so intense, I don’t know how I’ll ever recover.

  My release tears through me, dismantling me from the inside out. A hot rush of pleasure that rips the air from my lungs and makes my body jerk once, twice. Fuck.

  When I untangle us and peer down at Eden, she’s smiling. “What?”

  She tips her chin, playing coy. But in my head, I pretend that she’s thinking, If I’d known you were so good at that, I wouldn’t have waited six years.

  And hell, maybe it’s true.

  22

  * * *

  HOLT

  “You didn’t have to do all this, you know.” Eden gives me a shy look from across the center console of my car.

  Yes, I did. I ruined what was supposed to be our last date. After I got a panicked phone call from my mom, my mood had plummeted and I didn’t have the energy to cook for Eden like I promised. While we ended up more than salvaging the date, ordering takeout and cuddling . . . and then, well, things turned physical and I have zero complaints there.

  But it wasn’t the same as having a nice date. And I didn’t want to leave her hanging. Eden is the kind of woman who deserves to be wined and dined.

  Then why exactly am I taking her on a date to a drive-in movie theater, you ask?

  Maybe because I know most guys would plan something extravagant to try to impress the wealthy heiress. I also know she couldn’t care less about pomp and circumstance. I’m hoping she enjoys this casual downtime together.

  I reach over and grab her hand, giving her a smile. “I didn’t have to. But I wanted to.”

  She smiles, settling in beside me as I pull into the drive-in’s gravel parking lot for our evening of a double feature. Since she likes nineties music, I guessed that she’d like nineties movies too, and the theater is showing some classics—first Legally Blonde, followed by Scream.

  Eden’s eyes widen as she takes in our surroundings. It’s a weekday night, so there are only a handful of other cars here, all spaced out to give everyone plenty of breathing room.

  “Have you ever been here before?”

  She shakes her head. “No. Isn’t that crazy? This place has been here for like forty years.”

  I nod. “It has. I only came once before. I think you’ll like it.”

  I back into a parking space and open the tailgate of my SUV to let the cool evening breeze in and give us a clear view of the movie screen beyond.

  “Shall we?” I ask, gesturing to the back. I’ve laid down the rear seats and padded the cargo area with blankets and pillows.

  With a giggle, Eden climbs to the back. “This is awesome.” She sighs, snuggling into the warm fleece blankets.

  Thankfully, it’s not too chilly tonight, but it’s cool enough that we’ll have to cuddle up to stay warm. Perfect.

  I join her in the back and pop open the small cooler I’ve stowed beneath the seats. “Rosé?”

  She grins and holds out both hands. “Yes. Please.”

  I chuckle and pour her a glass in a disposable cup. Eden accepts the cup and takes a small sip of the chilled wine while I set out the snacks I’ve packed—chocolate-covered peanuts, white cheddar popcorn, and bags of miniature pretzels.

  “There’s snacks too?” she asks excitedly.

  “Plenty of snacks. And if we get hungrier than this, there’s a hot dog stand over there. I’ll go pillage for us.”

  She chuckles. “The perfect man.”

  The compliment radiates a contented warmth through me. While it’s far from true, I decide to bask in that emotion for a moment longer.

  It’s still light outside, but the sun has started to set, casting everything with a pretty pink glow. The screen lights up with movie previews, and I adjust the volume on my car stereo so we can listen. Eden has a dreamy sort of smile on her face as we recline on the makeshift bed of pillows in the back of my SUV.

  “This has got to be the best date in the history of dates.” She gives me a soft, appreciative look. “Thank you for planning this. It’s exactly what I needed to relax.”

  I nod. She’s been under a lot of pressure as a team owner, and while the Titans have had a good start to their season, it’s far from over. “You deserve a night off.”

  I lean down and press a kiss to her forehead. I’m sure most guys who had the chance to take the Eden Wynn out on a date would have gone much more high-end than six-dollar movie tickets and a bagful of snacks from the gas station. But I’m really fucking happy she’s pleased.

  “Thanks for
this, Holt. It reminds me of something I’d do in high school. A date at the drive-in. Except it’s better than high school, because I don’t have to be nervous about whether you’re going to try to get in my pants later.”

  I chuckle and gaze down at her. “Believe me, I’m going to try.”

  She laughs and playfully swats my thigh. “You can try, but just know I’m here for this movie. I haven’t seen vintage Reese Witherspoon in years. And pass me some of that popcorn, would you?”

  I obey, handing her a bag of popcorn and refilling her wine.

  Our time together is effortless and easy, and isn’t something I take for granted. While it’s true I haven’t dated much, there were a few women in between first hooking up with Eden and now. None of them made me feel like this. Being with Eden is like coming home after a long day of work. There’s comfort and satisfaction and something you just can’t quite put your finger on.

  I lean in to ask if she wants more popcorn, but Eden shushes me because the movie is starting. I settle in beside her with a growing feeling inside my chest and a smile that refuses to fade.

  • • •

  Back at my place, we fall onto the bed together, and Eden wastes no time slipping her hand beneath the fabric of my shirt, placing her warm palm flat on my stomach.

  A groan pours out of me, an almost desperate sound. I’ve been hard since halfway through the last movie. I strip out of my shirt while Eden pushes down her jeans. Soon, we’re back to kissing.

  She skims my chest with featherlight touches, treating me as though I’m fragile, something precious to her, and I don’t know how to feel about that. But I think I like it a fuck of a lot. The terrain of this new relationship is shifting under my feet, and I’m struggling to catch up. My heart is already there, but my head? It’s a mess.

  The moment I decide to just go with it and stop overthinking our situation is the moment Eden climbs on top of me. I grab a condom, shove off my pants and boxers in record time, and suit up. And then she’s sinking down onto me while I groan.