by S. R. Grey
“You got it.”
“So…” She looks around. “Should I throw a planter at you now or once you really get going?”
Instead of stroking, I wince and cover my junk.
“Uh, I think we’ll deviate from the script on that part too. Besides…” I jerk my chin to several blue ceramic shards on the ground. “It looks like one’s already been broken.”
“Oh my goodness, how did that happen?” Cara’s brow crinkles in confusion, but then she realizes I had to be the one to break it. “You did that?” she says.
I nod, and she asks, “But why?”
Sheepishly, I reply, “Well, it was already damaged. And I, uh, was looking at this big crack on the side and accidentally dropped it.”
That’s mostly the truth, except there was never a crack. I just needed a prop, damn it. So I threw it on the ground, okay? I’m improvising, people!
Suddenly the voice of reason, Miss Plant Thrower herself admonishes, “We shouldn’t be busting up Noel’s planters, Jaxon.”
“Oh, my God.” I laugh. “This, from the original pot destroyer.”
That makes her blush. “I know, I know. I feel bad about that.”
I start to stand, saying, “I guess I should get a dustpan and clean up the mess.”
Cara, as I’m hoping, stops me. “No, no, you’re naked. You could get cut.”
She shudders, and I think I know just what part of me she’s most worried about.
“Just stay there, Jaxon. I’ll pick up the big pieces, and we can clean up the rest later.”
Bending down, she starts gathering the larger shards of blue ceramic.
Perfect!
Cara’s playing right into my hands.
When I set this up, I was careful to leave only the pieces that were blunt and couldn’t cut her. I tossed the rest away.
Setting aside a handful of shards she’s just gathered, she reaches for the final one. It’s a big, blue, bowl-shaped piece I turned upside down.
And there’s a little something under it.
She flips it over and exclaims, “Jaxon, what the heck is this? Oh my God, I think it’s a diamond ring. What’s that doing here? And who left it? Oh, wait. Ohhh…”
She gets it then, and I kneel down next to her.
“Cara, I want to ask you something.”
I take her hand in mine. I’m already on my knees, so that part’s covered.
Clearing my throat, I state as formally as I can, “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
“Jaxon Holland, are you asking me what I think you’re asking?”
I pick up the ring and hold it out to her. “If you think I’m asking you to marry me, then yes.”
She throws her arms around me, her bikini-clad body pressed to my naked one, which works wonders for getting me hard as hell now.
“Yes, yes, yes. A thousand times yes, I’ll marry you,” Cara murmurs into my shoulder.
She said yes! She said yes!
That’s all I can think as I lean back and slide the ring onto her finger.
She starts smiling all slyly. And wait, I know that smile.
Still, I ask, “What are you thinking about right now, naughty girl?”
Our gazes meet, and she reaches around and unties her bikini top. It falls away. Next she skillfully shimmies the bottoms off and tosses them aside.
I play dumb. “Uh, babe, not that I’m complaining, but what exactly are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing, Jaxon?”
I raise a brow. “Taking off your bikini so we can have a celebratory fuck?”
“Well, yes, there is that. But I’m also starting a new tradition—naked engagements.”
I laugh and pull her into my arms. “I love it, babe. But most of all, I love you.”
I do. I so very much do. That’s why I know we’re going to have such a great life together.
From naked birthdays to naked engagements, from Mr. Hockeypants to Ms. Hockeypants, from the sand to the ice and then back again to the sand, from enemies to friends, from friends to lovers—I just fucking love Cara Milne.
Next up for the Boys of Winter series is a Brent and Aubrey wedding novella, Vows on Ice, due out September 2018. It’ll feature all of the couples and follow a series of hilarious mishaps, with an appearance of Area 51, of course. *wink*
Next up after that is a football spin-off featuring Graham Tettersaw, and then we’re back to hockey and on to Noel’s story!
S.R. Grey is an Amazon Top 30 and a #1 Barnes & Noble bestselling author. Her newest bestselling hockey rom-com series features a different hot player in each story and every one can be read in any order since they’re all interconnected standalones.
Ms. Grey’s novels have appeared on multiple Amazon bestselling lists, including the Top 100 several times. She is also a Top 100 bestselling author on iTunes.
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It’s not over yet.
Here’s a chance to read the first chapter of Resistance on Ice, Nolan’s story and the second standalone in the bestselling Boys of Winter series.
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.
Continue reading Resistance on Ice
Read other books by S.R. Grey
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not considered to be real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Player on Ice (Boys of Winter #5)
Copyright © 2018 by S.R. Grey
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
ISBN-10: 0-9979749-8-2
ISBN-13: 978-0-9979749-8-0
Editing: Hot Tree Editing
Proofreading: Deaton Author Services
Cover Photographer: CJC Photography
Model: Matt Ricker
Cover Design: Najla Qamber
Interior design and formatting by:
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