Once Upon a Power Play

by Jennifer Bonds

  Oh, she cared all right. That unladylike little gesture said it all. He’d gotten under her skin. Again. Hell, maybe he had taken too many shots to the head because there was something about her complete and utter disdain for him that was insanely hot. Dinner with Chloe would be a night to remember. He’d make sure of it.

  Chapter Five

  Chloe glanced in the mirror, wondering what the hell she was supposed to wear on a date with a pro hockey player? Not that she really cared what Ryan thought. As far as she was concerned, he was an arrogant ape. The only reason she’d even agreed to the stupid date was to stave off a scene at The Garden. The last thing she wanted to do was shake Cole’s confidence in her, or make him think she wasn’t taking the responsibility seriously. So what choice did she have but to accept Ryan’s invitation? After all, he’d practically blackmailed her.

  Of course, she could bail on him. It would certainly serve him right. But no, she refused to sink to his level. She’d suck it up and go. One date wouldn’t kill her, and then she’d be done with him once and for all.

  Turning to her closet, she grabbed a conservative black cap-sleeved dress. It was more nine-to-five than date-night, but one could never go wrong with a little black dress, right? Even if it was boring. Hell, the duller the better. Maybe it would keep Ryan at arm’s length, something she desperately needed to do if she wanted to put this whole mess behind her and focus on Garden of Dreams.

  Chloe sighed. If she’d had the slightest idea he was an NHL player, she never would have invited him up that first night. And she sure as hell wouldn’t have slept with him, nerves or not. The man embodied everything she despised. Maybe she didn’t know Ryan, but she knew his type. Self-involved, entitled, fleeting. He’d have his fun, and when someone shiny and new came along? He’d drop her in a New York minute.

  She slipped the dress over her head, shimmying into it and pulling the skirt over her butt. A devious plan sprouted in her mind as she tugged it down to a respectable length.

  Pulling the dress back over her head, she tossed it on the bed. She pushed aside all the suits in her closet, rummaging in the back, searching for the little red dress that was anything but boring. A satin fit and flare with a plunging neckline in the front and back, it was sure to make Ryan lose his mind. He wanted to play games? Fine by her. She just hoped he was prepared to lose, because she was all in. Only she had no intention of giving up the goods. He could look, but there would be no touching. Not this time. Finishing the dress with a pair of black fishnet stockings, black booties, and a thick black belt, she studied her reflection in the mirror.

  Game. On.

  Although he’d wanted to pick her up like a proper gentleman, Chloe had shot him down, insisting they meet at the restaurant. And the sooner she got out the door, the sooner this little battle of wills would be over.

  When she arrived, she checked her coat and allowed the hostess to escort her to the table where she was told Ryan was already waiting. She’d insisted on choosing the restaurant, making sure it was a lively one with a hopping bar. It wasn’t quiet or romantic or exclusive and she wouldn’t have to worry about things heating up. Added bonus, it wasn’t so over the top she’d have to worry about which fork to use or whether the server was judging the shit out of her.

  Damn.

  The joke was on her because Ryan looked good enough to eat and apparently the slender blonde hovering near the table agreed. She was eyeing him like he was the only thing on the menu worth having. Maybe she should have bailed after all. It didn’t look like he’d miss her. Just as she was about to turn and walk out, he looked up, catching her eye.

  “Chloe!” He stood, dismissing the other woman, his attention completely focused on her. His eyes traveled over her body, taking in the racy dress, which hugged her curves as she approached the table. When his eyes fell on the fishnet stockings, his grin widened. Leaning in, he gave her a kiss on the cheek and whispered in her ear. “I was starting to think you weren’t going to show.”

  “You mean because you blackmailed me into coming? No, just fashionably late.” She gave him a tight-lipped smile, cutting her eyes at the back of the blonde who was retreating to the bar. “Hopefully I’m not interrupting.”

  “Hardly.” He smirked, his overinflated ego no doubt mistaking her irritation for jealousy. Not missing a beat, he leaned down into her personal space again as he helped her into her chair. “There’s only one woman I’m interested in, and she’s wearing a pair of stockings that are going to make it damn near impossible to think about anything but having them wrapped around me later tonight.”

  Flustered, Chloe grabbed the drink menu. Refusing to meet his eyes, she stared at it like a coward until the server arrived, the whole time willing herself not to use it as a fan. She ordered a glass of red wine, reminding herself she was in control, not Ryan. So he liked her stockings? Perfect. That was the point, wasn’t it? To drive him mad with lust and send him and his blue balls packing. She just had to hang tough and not let her stupid hormones get the best of her.

  She. Had. This.

  Too bad his eyes were still smoldering, heavy with lust, when she looked up. It didn’t take a genius to figure out he was imaging all the ways he might fuck her. He thought he could stare her down? That just wouldn’t do. No way was she backing down. She took a sip from her water glass, drawing an ice cube into her mouth and gliding it across her lower lip where he could see it. Then she sucked on that thing like it was her job, working it with her tongue. There was an audible hiss from Ryan’s side of the table. He shifted in his seat. And was it her imagination or was his breath just a bit more labored?

  A flash caught her off guard and she damn near choked on the stupid ice cube.

  Ryan turned toward the flash and smiled, only it didn’t quite reach all the way to his eyes.

  “Ryan,” the photographer said, snapping another pic, “how’s the leg? Think you’ll be able to make the comeback?”

  “The leg’s good. Doc cleared me to practice this week. I’ll be back in the game before you know it.”

  “Think you’ll be able to play the Flyers?” the photog asked, firing questions nonstop like he didn’t really give a crap about the answers and just needed sound bites.

  “We’ll see.” Ryan gripped his beer so hard his knuckles turned white. “They’re a formidable rival. I hope to be back on the ice, supporting the team in any way I can.”

  The paparazzo looked at Chloe, his skeezy eyes locked on her chest. Dirtball. She couldn’t remember the last time a guy actually made her skin crawl. “Who’s your friend?”

  “A friend,” Ryan replied, his body going rigid. It was pretty clear to Chloe that he was done talking, but the pap opened his mouth to ask another question.

  “How’s Kel—”

  Fortunately, the restaurant manager came rushing over and politely, but firmly, kicked the guy out before he could finish his impromptu interview. “I’m so sorry,” she said, looking horrified as she clutched a stack of menus to her chest. “That should never have happened. We do value our guest’s privacy. I’ll speak with the hostess.”

  “Thank you.” Ryan released his glass and Chloe swore she could actually see the tension leak out of his shoulders. She was very aware that every eye in the place was trained on their table. She forced a smile, doing her best to look unfazed. Sure, why not? Paparazzi taking her picture during a night on the town, invading her privacy? Nothing new about that. Happened all the time.

  Only it probably did happen to Ryan all the time she realized, and vowed to delete the TMZ app from her phone.

  “Your dinner is on us tonight,” the manager offered with an awkward grin. “Please enjoy the rest of your evening. You won’t be bothered again.”

  “So, that was fun,” Chloe said, trying to ignore the fact that half the people in the place were probably talking about them.

  Ryan shook his head, a ghost of a smile on his lips. For the first time since she’d met him, he wasn’t the cocky bastard
who taunted her mercilessly. She saw something different on his face: vulnerability. “I’m really sorry about that.”

  “Does it happen a lot?” she asked, wondering what it was like to live under a microscope for all the world to judge. She didn’t want to think about what the world would see if they followed her around for a few days.

  Ryan studied her, his eyes penetrating, as if he could read her mind. “Only on slow news days.”

  “Guess there aren’t any Kardashian’s in town this week.”

  His lips twitched. “I guess not. Which makes an injured hockey player today’s big story.”

  “What happened?” she asked, hating that she actually wanted to know more about him. She chalked it up to morbid curiosity, because no way in hell did she actually care.

  “The truth? Freak accident. I took a blade to the back of the calf during a Flyers game earlier in the season. It sliced deep.” He shrugged as if it were no big deal, but the way he toyed with his beer told a different story. “Two surgeries and a hell of a lot of PT later, I’m well on my way to recovery.”

  “Oh my God. That’s horrible.” Her belly churned at the thought of such a gory injury. What he’d been through sounded incredibly painful. It couldn’t have been an easy recovery. Watching him today, she’d never have guessed he’d been sidelined with an injury. Then again, playing with a bunch of kids was a far cry from the intensity of a professional game. “I’m so sorry.”

  He tipped his head back and took a long pull from his beer, throat bobbing as he drained the glass. “I’ve missed forty-three games. There’s a lot of speculation as to whether I’ll be able to play again, or if the injury is a career killer.”

  “But the doc cleared you, right?”

  “Yeah.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. Doubt clouded his eyes. “Yeah, he did.”

  “So, fuck ’em. You go back out there and make those haters eat their words.”

  “It won’t be easy.”

  “Neither is becoming a professional hockey player, so I kind of like your odds.”

  Ryan watched Chloe as he signed another autograph. They’d moved to the bar after dinner, deciding to grab a few drinks before calling it a night. Unfortunately, they’d been interrupted no less than a dozen times by well-wishers who wanted his autograph. Normally he didn’t mind, but tonight it was really trying his patience. To her credit, Chloe was taking it all in stride, chatting with the woman on the stool next to her.

  Despite the many interruptions, he was glad she hadn’t ditched him. Chloe had a realness about her he hadn’t seen much since moving to New York, and it was refreshing. Not only was she spirited, she was authentic. This wasn’t a woman interested in his career or how much money he made. Hell, he wasn’t even sure she liked him, despite their sizzling chemistry. Plus, she had this whole “I call them like I see them” kind of attitude that was proving to be a real turn-on. With her flashy clothes and unfiltered commentary, she really didn’t seem to give a fuck what anyone thought, least of all him. It didn’t hurt that the sex was unbelievable either.

  “Why so serious?” Chloe turned her stool to face him, crossing her legs and drawing his eyes to her silk covered thighs. Was she wearing those lacey garters again? He wanted—needed—to touch her and find out.

  Instead, he replied, “Just thinking about practice on Monday.”

  She offered him a reassuring smile he didn’t deserve. “Don’t worry. I’m sure no one expects you to be one hundred percent on your first day back.”

  “It’s not that,” he admitted, leaning against the bar so their shoulders were touching. Might as well hit her with the highlights. She was bound to hear about it anyway. “When I got hurt, my girlfriend of six years, Kelsey, dumped me and hooked up with my best friend Bash. Who’s also on the team,” he explained, remembering she wasn’t a hockey fan and could probably count all the Rangers whose names she knew on one finger.

  “That bitch!” The look of outrage on her face was priceless. What did it say about the six years he’d spent with Kelsey that a woman he’d known for six minutes had more respect for him?

  “Yeah, well, she wasn’t so sure I’d recover, and she didn’t want to give up the lifestyle. I haven’t seen either of them in a few months.” He raked a hand through his hair and stared at his beer. “I’m excited about heading up to the training center on Monday, but it’s going to be awkward as hell in the locker room.”

  “You don’t sound too broken up over it.”

  He looked up. Chloe was watching him with raised brows, making it clear she expected an answer. “I guess I wasn’t that surprised. And it wasn’t like he stole her away. It was her choice. She just packed her bags and walked out. Deep down I knew we had problems, but I was too wrapped up in the game to deal with them. It was just a matter of time.”

  “So then what’s the problem?”

  “The guys on the team will be watching me, waiting to see how I’ll handle the situation. I’m a leader and I don’t want to tear the team apart, but I can’t ignore it either.”

  She placed a delicate hand on his shoulder. “You, sir, have come to the right place for advice.”

  He laughed. “Sorry, princess, but we aren’t going to hug it out like a couple of chicks.”

  “Do I look like a hug it out kind of girl?” she asked, feigning indignation. “Trust me. I have three brothers. I’m an expert on dealing with boy drama.”

  Her breath was hot against his ear as she whispered her plan to him, her lips grazing his jaw and sending a ripple of desire to his cock.

  “You have a devious mind. And that is so incredibly sexy.”

  Chapter Six

  Chloe eyed the shot of Patron that sat in front of her and decided she was done cutting Ryan a break. She was sympathetic to his injury, the paparazzi, and even his bitchy ex-girlfriend, but she wasn’t letting him off the hook entirely. He was still an ass. And if he called her—

  “Half-pint princess, are you sure you can handle that shot?” he asked, his eyes dancing with laughter. He leaned over, crowding her with his massive body. Heat radiated from him, and thanks to her choice of dress, she was annoyingly aware of it, craving to touch that feverish skin of his. The man had balls, she’d give him that much at least. Not only did he have the audacity to blackmail her into this stupid date, now he was making fun of her. It was time to get back the upper hand.

  “Sweetie, I may be small, but I can handle my liquor.” She brought his hand to her mouth and licked the stretch of skin between his thumb and forefinger, her tongue darting out seductively. Ryan followed her every move, his eyes glued to her as she sprinkled salt on the slick spot and grabbed a lime. Licking the salt from his hand with a slow drag of her tongue, she slammed the Patron and bit into the lime, sucking on it very deliberately as she withdrew it from her lips. The alcohol burned its way to her belly, taking the edge off her nerves. Trailing a manicured nail down his chest, she pulled out the sexiest smile in her arsenal. “I can go one for one all night long. Can you?”

  Something dark stirred in his eyes. Lust. She was sure of it, even if she didn’t understand it. How the hell was she, Chloe Jacobs, sitting at the bar with one of the sexiest guys in the NHL eye-fucking her? She had no real basis for comparison, but he was pretty damn fine, so it was a safe bet he was at the top end of the hockey hottie spectrum. Were all hockey players this easy on the eyes?

  Ryan swiped her beer and downed it in three quick gulps.

  “Hey.” Her temper flared hotter than the hinges of hell. “What exactly do you think you’re doing?”

  He was on her in a flash, spinning her stool and trapping her between his powerful arms, his palms braced on the edge of the bar. The hard muscles of his chest were pressed to her back, a stark contrast to her own soft body. He brought his mouth to her ear, nipping at her earlobe and tracing the inside of her ear with his tongue. A rush of desire surged through her, reminding her of the need he’d awoken deep within. She sighed, cursing herself yet again for r
esponding to his touch like an unsatisfied virgin.

  “I need you sober enough to say yes when I take you home and fuck you until you go mad thinking your body will come apart with pleasure. The first time will be quick. But after that? It’s going to take all night because I’m going to learn every single spot on this body that makes you moan. And I’m going to do it with my tongue.”

  To prove his point, he swiveled her stool, bringing them face-to-face. His mouth descended without hesitation, or care for who might be watching. Or maybe in spite of it. Those soft lips crashed against hers, driving the kiss deep and hard, their tongues inextricably entwined as she tilted her head back and opened herself to him. He tangled his fingers in her hair, exploring her mouth and tempting her with the promise of more.

  When he pulled back, Chloe gasped at the loss of contact. She was so screwed. The time for fun and games had passed. There was only one answer she could give this man. Only one she wanted to give, despite her resolution. But then what? She couldn’t even hang onto Dave the Douche. How could she possibly hope to keep Ryan, the dirty talking, scorching sex god?

  She couldn’t. It was that simple. Which actually made him kind of perfect. Forget Mr. Right. Get down and dirty with Mr. Right Now. No expectations. No emotions. Just a whole lot of sinful pleasure. Why shouldn’t he pound an orgasm out of her, no strings attached? Sure, he was infuriating with all his swagger and bossiness, but it did nothing to negate their chemistry. And neither of them was looking for long term. By his own admission he’d just gotten out of a crappy relationship, and she was taking a hiatus from getting dumped. It was perfect, really. Besides, no one had to know.

  “My place or yours?” she asked, ignoring the niggling voice in the back of her head that warned her to walk away while she still could.

  “Your place is closer,” he said with a sly grin.

  They barely made it back to her apartment. A whopping two whole blocks. By the time they got up the stairs, Ryan was sucking on her neck making it damn near impossible to get the key in the lock. When the door finally swung open, they fell through, joined at the lips. Desperate for him to make good on his promise and put that tongue to good use, she devoured him with hungry kisses. They crashed into the sideboard, sending the giant stack of mail skittering to the floor. Who cared? She didn’t. Pressing her to the wall, he slipped a hand under her skirt, feeling his way to the top of her fishnet stockings. When he grabbed her ass, she lifted her leg, wrapping it around him.