Fox (The Player Book 4)

by Nana Malone

  The buzzer sounded, and Sasha had her book back in her lap, the spine cracked, before Fox and his teammates had finished their trek down the tunnel to the locker room.

  Fox kissed Sasha’s shoulder. This was where he always wanted to be. He had a temporary contract in place for the rest of the season just two weeks after being called up, but his agent and manager had been working with the team’s legal representatives and owners to negotiate something more long-term.

  Henri was proving to be an effective first-choice goalie, but as the season wore on, he was having a harder and harder time completing a string of starts, even when there were two or three days between games.

  Fox had made an impression in his first few starts, but a couple of losses, one of which he was reluctant to count since he’d been swapped in for Henri after the other goalie had let four pucks past him, had brought his numbers back to a steady average. That loss to the Rajun Cajuns had been brutal. Ransom Cox had almost gotten one past him. Shit, that guy was fast.

  There had been a number of injuries among the team’s players. Martin was still recovering from a bad concussion, and Gerry had missed a few weeks after breaking a finger. The younger players that had been called up at the beginning of the season were doing okay but not great, so even though the season was young, the chances of the Brawlers making the playoffs this year were slim.

  The team was doing what it could to prepare for the next season, intending to build the skills and discipline of the young blood so they’d be a coordinated unit for the following year. Coach Tremblay was pleased with Fox’s level of discipline and hoped he would prove effective in instilling it into the other players on the team.

  “Talent is necessary, but it is easily undermined without the patience and dedication that develop and direct it.” Tremblay had repeatedly told the team this at many practices or after games when someone went for the glory shot instead of the smart one.

  When Fox told Sasha what the coach had said, she wasn’t surprised. “You’ve always doubted your talents,” she said, wiggling her naked back against his chest. She pulled his hand from where it pressed against the flat of her stomach up to her lips so she could press a kiss to his knuckles. “That doubt is why you asked me to take shots on you when we were kids. It didn’t matter who you were facing off with, you needed to drill every shot into your muscle memory.”

  His hand drifted to her breast and then trailed down past its former spot on her belly, as his cock twitched against her ass.

  “I know of something else that could do with some drilling to reinforce…muscle memory.” He murmured in her ear, his fingers sliding between her legs.

  She laughed at his terrible double entendre but widened her thighs in invitation, hitching her leg over his and reaching back to clutch the thick muscles of his quads as he slid into her and she arched against him.

  “Coulter,” Coach Tremblay called for him from the main locker room. Fox dragged his mind away from the memory of last night.

  “Yeah, Coach?” he called back, turning off the water in front of him and grabbing a towel to wrap around his waist so he could see what Tremblay wanted.

  “PR guys want you on the stage for the post-game press conference. They know about your new contract, so be prepared for questions about that, too.”

  “I’ve got family waiting on me in the box,” he told his coach, hoping it would be enough to get him out of the press conference. “I’m pretty sure my parents have reservations.”

  “Then we’ll make it quick,” Tremblay said without any sympathy.

  Fox fought the urge to fidget through the reporters’ questions as he watched the clock advancing and wished they would wrap it up already so he could find Sasha and the others. He wanted to get the family dinner over with so he and Sasha could get home. She’d promised she’d give the studying a rest for a couple of days. And he had very specific plans for how he wanted to use the time with her.

  He thought for a brief moment that he might successfully escape without any questions about his new contract or his role on the team, but as luck would have it, the last reporter to be acknowledged touched on just that.

  “Congratulations on your contract,” the reporter began, “and given that this is already being referred to as a ‘team building’ year, is there anything you would like to see change in relation to your position in goal? Your numbers in some areas are, in fact, better than your fellow goalie’s. Is there a chance you might swap positions on the bench by the end of the year?”

  Sasha must have come looking for him because he spotted her standing in the doorway to the pressroom. She had an amused smile on her face and crossed her arms over her chest as she too waited for his answer.

  “Well…I’ve worked for a long time to get to where I am. There were plenty of times in the last few years when I doubted that I would ever have what I’ve got now…so I’m not complaining about any of it. I’ll do what the team needs me to do, and I’ll do it as well as I can, just like pretty much every other guy out there on that ice does every game. Things come up during the season. Unfortunately, we’ve had some guys get hurt, and so sometimes the rest of us have to step up and do more. But I’m where I want to be. I’m on a team I’m happy with, I’m getting to be in goal, and I’m excited to see what the future holds.”

  Sasha grinned from the doorway, and he could see her giving him a slow clap. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.

  “Fox, just one more question,” a blonde reporter on the right spoke up.

  “Sure, go ahead.” His eyes were still on Sasha.

  “Have you ever noticed the striking resemblance between you and your opponent today? The Winger, Ransom Cox?”

  “No, I didn’t.” He stroked his head. “Sorry, I was too busy trying to keep the guy from scoring.”

  She nodded, putting the pen cap to her mouth. “Well, I understand. But without the pads, he could be a long-lost Coulter.”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know anything about the guy, other than he’s fast.” Fox stood. “Now, if you’ll all excuse me, I have my girlfriend to kiss.” He didn’t wait to be dismissed, just went straight for Sasha and pulled her into his arms. “Come on, oh love of my life, let’s go eat. The sooner we do that, the sooner I can have you naked.”

  Sasha laughed. “Now, who’s incorrigible?”

  SNEAK PEEK OF RANSOM COX

  Ransom Cox fisted his hands into blonde hair, relishing the silken texture, as he kissed the lithe woman in his arms. When she'd come on to him in the bar downstairs, he didn't think much of it. Hell, he was a Ragin' Cajun. Women threw themselves at him all the time. And considering they'd just won the championship, the afterparty was like a pussy buffet.

  Usually, Ransom stayed out of the fray. He liked a little less desperation in his women. But considering he gotten a call from Callie earlier today, he needed to blow off some steam.

  His ex-wife had a way of worming her way under his skin without even trying. Sometimes just her name was enough to do it. Oh sure, he'd thought he was in love with her once. But he'd mistaken that desperate urge, the buzz of electricity and attraction, for something real.

  You're too difficult to live with. All you care about is hockey. You never take me anywhere fun. Why don't you ever spend any money on me? Why do you want so much sex? Those were just a few of her complaints, that ran on a constant reel in his head. Her biggest complaint was that he wanted too much sex. Of all the things, that was the craziest. She said he was too demanding in bed, wanted more than she was willing to give. Wanting to have sex with your wife? How was that a crime?

  Ransom shook his head. Focus on the woman in your arms, not the woman who ran from you like her hair was on fire. The blonde melted into his arms, and he tried to focus on the party going on in his pants. Okay, not really a party. Truth was, he was on autopilot. His brain wanted to focus on other things. You probably should take that as a bad sign. Nevertheless, he tried to force his attention back to the woman in
his arms. But like so many times before, when he'd hooked up with some anonymous pro ho, he mentally replaced her with someone he hadn't thought about in a long time.

  Silky, dark hair, wide, chocolate-colored eyes, full lips that were usually running at about a mile a minute.

  It would make a lot of sense if that's what Callie looked like. But oh, no, his fantasy woman wasn't his ex. He was picturing the girl he’d barely even talked to back in high school.

  Lexa Carlisle.

  She hadn't even been necessarily the hottest girl in school. But there was something about her constant chatter, upbeat personality, and fast-talking that always made him smile. And then there was that tight, compact, little body, that guaranteed to put any guy in just the right kind of mood.

  The woman currently wrapping herself around him, cooed, interrupting his little daydream. "Oh, my God. I see the rumors about you weren't wrong."

  If he'd been paying attention, if he'd made an attempt to focus on her words, he might've understood that this hookup wasn't about her wanting to be with one of the Ragin' Cajuns. If he'd been thinking clearly, he would've noticed that she was here for an entirely different reason altogether.

  But he wasn't thinking clearly. Instead, his mind had latched onto the fantasy, replacing the anonymous woman with the one he'd used as his personal, private material for far too long.

  He pictured Lexa’s dark hair sliding over his fingers. Her full lips opening under his. How her lips would part in surprise when he picked her up and encouraged her to wrap her legs around him.

  Yeah, that was a fantasy he could get behind. And sure enough, his dick was all-in. As long as he kept pretending he was with Lexa, he was all good.

  Never mind that this woman smelled all wrong. Never mind that the way she scratched at him and attempted to climb him like a tree said that there was something too desperate about what she was doing. Never mind that as far as he was concerned, she might as well be anonymous. Yeah, never mind all that, because in his head, he was finally kissing Lexa Carlisle.

  Ransom softened his kisses, and gently backed her against the desk in the hotel room. Because with girls like Lexa, you didn't rush things. You didn't drag off their clothes, ripping them and tossing them to the floor. You took your time. Took things nice and easy. Made it last.

  But this girl wasn't Lexa. As he kissed her, she had her hands under his T-shirt and was dragging it off him with an expertise that gave him pause. But still, he held on tight to the fantasy.

  When was the last time he'd slept with anyone? Months? It would do him some good to work out some of the tension, some of the frustration.

  When she reached hurriedly for his belt, flipping the latch like a professional, Ransom frowned. "Easy," he muttered around their kisses. She was in a hurry. Why was she in such a hurry? Because in his head, fantasy Lexa was enjoying everything. This chick, it was like she was in a hurry to get to the prize, not because they had any crazy-great chemistry, or anything.

  His frown deepened and he pulled back. "Hey, what's the rush?"

  She gave him a wide smile. "You don't need to do all that, or take your time with me. I'm ready. Super excited."

  Oookay, then. Again, alarm bells tried to ring. But he didn't pay them enough attention.

  He unzipped the back of her dress, and it fell straight to the ground, the soft fabric not making any sound as it fluttered to the carpet. And, yeah, her body was top-notch. Clad in black lace and thigh-high stockings, he salivated. She might not have been exactly the woman he wanted, but he was still a guy, and she was beautiful. He leaned in to kiss her neck, and she shivered.

  Taking his belt, she finally managed to pull it through the loops, then unsnap his jeans. Yeah, it had been too long. Far too long. When she stuck her hand down his boxers, he groaned. Hell, yes. This was what he needed.

  Her breath hitched. "Oh, my God. Seriously?" She pulled back, his jeans sliding down over his hips, then off his ass, revealing his erection.

  Ransom held still. This was the moment of truth. Ever since Callie had written that tell-all book, he found his bedroom partners fell into one of two categories—those who were up for the challenge, and those who were…not.

  Callie's tell-all had been the beginning of all his trouble. Women he encountered either wanted some insane BDSM fantasy, or they wanted to be told what to do and controlled. And that was not his style. He liked a woman who took charge of her own life.

  Of course, then there were the gawkers, who didn’t believe what Callie had said about the size of his dick, and they wanted to have a looky-loo for themselves. Half the time, he felt like an animal at the damn petting zoo.

  His anonymous partner slid her hands through the waistband of his boxers and tugged them down. When his cock sprung free, she gasped. "Oh, wow."

  Okay, so far so good. She reached out and wrapped her slim hand around him tightly. Ransom grunted. "Easy does it."

  "I should be saying the same thing to you." She licked her lips. "I mean, I heard you had this monster dick, but I never expected..." Her voice trailed off.

  What? His brain was still fuzzy because, well, she had him by the cock. All he could think about was that he was about to get laid.

  "I mean, this is big. Maybe I could just blow you. Or you could go down on me."

  Ransom swallowed his disappointment. "Okay. There's a lot of other—" What the hell? There was a faint clicking noise, but he couldn't figure out where it was coming from. It wasn’t until then he noticed that her free hand had taken something off the table behind her. Oh, shit. Was that a phone?

  Ransom leaned over her, as if he were going to kiss her again, all the while gently peeling her hand off his dick. When he had himself free, he tugged his boxers back up, and then, he reached for the phone. Snatching it out of her hand.

  "Hey, that's my phone!"

  "Yeah, and that's my dick you were taking pictures of just now."

  She scooted back on the desk. As if afraid of him. "Are you going to punish me?"

  What. The. Holy. Fuck? He wasn't sure if he should be more worried that she was afraid, or more worried that she seemed to want to be afraid. He could kill Callie for that stupid book she'd written. In it, she talked about his epic, monster dick, and his insatiable appetite. How after a fight, they'd fuck for hours, and how she felt like she was being punished. Well, far be it from him to give multiple orgasms.

  She also talked about his brooding. "Like there was a well of anger deep inside him." Which was just bullshit, because he wasn't angry. He was quiet. But women met him and expected this brooding, crazy guy. Some of them were afraid.

  "You can't take my phone like that."

  "Yes, I can. Especially if you're infringing on my privacy. You realize that you can't take pictures of me without my permission? Pictures of my dick, no less. Ever heard of consent?"

  "What do you care? Getting pictures taken would just make you more of a legend."

  Ransom shook his head. Seriously? What the hell was wrong with him? He clearly couldn't pick the right chicks for shit. Or maybe Callie was right. You do deserve to be alone. The deep ache in the center of his chest spread. After all, wasn't that what his father said? That Ransom was too much trouble. He didn't want to bother to take care of him, so he'd taken off. Then Callie and that disastrous marriage. Maybe he wasn't supposed to be with anybody. Because every time he made the attempt, something shitty happened.

  "You can have your phone back. But I'm just going to hard system reset. What's the code?"

  She gave him a mutinous glare. "I'm not giving you the code. I've got pictures I care about on there."

  "You should've thought of that before you took pictures without my consent. Code? If you don't give me the code, you lose the phone. Your choice, really. With all these gold crystal thingies on it, I figure you care about the phone, so code."

  She stared at him as she tried to figure out if he would actually break her phone.

  This part of Callie's book probably
helped him. "I will do it. Give me what I want."

  She mumbled the code and he tapped it in. First, he deliberately went and deleted all the pictures she'd taken that night. He just hoped she hadn't uploaded to a cloud server. And then he performed a hard system reset before handing her back her phone.

  "You are a supreme asshole."

  Ransom just shrugged. "An asshole you won't be sleeping with tonight."

  He crossed to the door, yanked it open, and held it for her.

  She stared at him. "You're really going to make me leave? You're not giving me money for gas?"

  He crossed his arms. "Now, how did you get to the hotel in the first place?"

  "With friends."

  "Then I suggest you make some more so you can get home."

  She stepped back into her dress and zipped it up, cussing him out the whole time she adjusted the straps of her shoes and grabbed her purse. "You are going to regret this."

  He closed the door behind her and leaned back against it, squeezing his eyes shut tight. He already did.

  READ RANSOM NOW!

  Thank You

  Thank you for reading FOX! I hope you enjoyed the fourth book in my new series, The Player.

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  Bryce