“Emotions?” I ask, my chin pulling inward.
“Let’s say you came home from a hard day at work, and your brain is just absolutely hurting. You want to take a hot bubble bath and just let everything melt away. Imagine having a playlist of appropriate music at your fingertips.”
“Calgon take me away.” I laugh, referencing the old, iconic commercial.
Dominik nods, chuckling. “We called it the Calgon channel. Or say you were angry and pissed off—just wanted to throw stuff and rage against the world. We had a playlist of angry, aggressive music. Or you wanted to have a dance party. Or lullabies for your kid. All our channels targeted moods.”
“That’s brilliant,” I say, my voice suffused with awe.
“We named it Verve Radio. Before the end of our sophomore year, we had an offer to buy us out for forty-eight-million dollars.”
“Oh my God,” I breathe out.
“Took that money, then invested some in high-risk startup ventures. When those paid off, I dropped out of school and never went back.”
“And then you bought a basketball team,” I murmur.
“And a hockey team.”
“And a hockey team,” I agree with a laugh. I take another sip of my wine. “By the way, Dax told me the lawsuit against him, Erik, and Sebastian got dropped.”
Dominik nods, his eyes lit with self-satisfaction. I know why, too, because my brother also told me that Dominik went off on Nanette Pearson, told her that she was a flat-out liar and if she wanted to take him on, it was going to be like going to war. Apparently, the next morning, they got notice her attorney had dismissed the lawsuit and made a short statement to the press about it. The Vengeance remained stoically quiet about the situation.
“Dax was extremely impressed by you.” I smile, very much aware of how much my brother doesn’t like Dominik.
Rather, didn’t like.
They’ll probably have a bromance now.
“It was the right thing to do,” Dominik says offhandedly.
“Most multimillion—”
“Billion.” He gives me a wicked grin.
“Most multibillionaires would have paid her something to make her go away. It would have been the easiest thing to do. In my experience, business decisions are rarely made on the right thing to do, but rather whatever is easiest.”
“I don’t operate that way.” Dominik takes a healthy slug of his drink before depositing it on the nightstand. “It’s not who I am.”
“Is it weird I’m attracted to more than just your body and your magic dick right now?” I ask, scooting a bit closer.
Dominik smirks. “You really think my dick has magical properties?”
“It’s got something,” I reply seductively.
This prompts Dominik to take my glass. The look in his eyes is proof I’m okay with this. He sits it on the nightstand beside his near empty glass, then rolls back, his hand going behind my head.
When his mouth hits mine, I settle on my back, arms wrapping around him to pull him with me.
Dominik’s big body covers mine, his tongue sliding into my mouth. It solidifies what has been in the back of my mind—I’ve been more than obsessing about him over the last four days.
I’ve actually missed him.
CHAPTER 11
Willow
When I pull up at Shërim Ranch, I silently thank Regan for giving me the use of her car today since she’s hanging out with Dax. It’s a rare day he has off while in the playoffs, but the first round is over and the Vengeance ended up sweeping the Seattle Storm in four games. The next round doesn’t start for four more days when we’ll be hosting the Vancouver Flash for game one.
Waking up in Dominik Carlson’s bed for the fourth day in a row is not necessarily a bad thing. In fact, it almost seemed natural I ended up there each night. I stayed with him in his Presidential Suite in Seattle as the Vengeance summarily defeated the Storm in games three and four. We returned to Phoenix with nothing but time on our hands until the second round started, and I stayed in his new house the following two nights.
I tried to put up a fight, arguing we didn’t need to spend every night together. He countered with, “Fine. Then have lunch with me during the day, and I’ll gladly give you a reprieve on the night.”
My mouth had snapped shut. Arguing was futile. He’d made his point clear. He wanted time with me and he preferred nights—same as I did—but if I wouldn’t give him those, he was going to insist on taking something.
As he’d told me before, he was greedy when it came to me and frankly, that was more of a turn-on than a turn-off.
At this point, I’ve resigned myself to enjoying Dominik’s attention and he’s a nice distraction while I’m in the area to root my brother on in the playoffs.
An extremely nice distraction.
And there’s no danger of this turning into something more. We’ve both agreed it is only what it is, which makes my argument against spending every night with him have no merit.
So yeah… it was nice waking up with him.
Today, Dominik is off doing whatever it is that multibillionaires do. I have plans with him later. He insisted we go out to a nice restaurant, which means I’m going to have to shop for a nice dress.
That’s fine, but for now… it’s time for me to meet Nora.
I’d been in Kosovo for just over a month prior to coming to Phoenix for the playoffs. As a photojournalist, I travel all over the world. That particular assignment was to cover the twentieth anniversary of the Kosovo wars.
Unbeknownst to me, my brother’s teammate Tacker had started counseling with a woman by the name of Nora Wayne. She owns Shërim Ranch, and she uses horses in some of her therapies.
Nora, in a strange twist of small-world fate, had lived in Kosovo. She’s Albanian, and her family was made up of rebels who were tragically wiped out by the Serbs. She was just a child and the only survivor.
Dax and Tacker called me a few weeks ago, putting me on speakerphone. They told me all about Nora and what she’d been through, and Tacker had asked me for a favor. I gladly did it for him and Nora, whom I didn’t even know.
That’s going to change now.
I exit my vehicle, then make my way up the porch steps of the main ranch house. Nora invited me to breakfast because I have stuff to share with her.
There’s no time to even raise my hand to knock on the front door before it’s thrown open by Tacker Hall. Granted, I’ve seen him since I’ve been back, but it’s mainly been out on the ice where he’s totally tearing it up.
But there’s no doubting the grinning man is different from the one I’d known before I left.
Dax had explained about Tacker’s transformation. How the normally taciturn man was now easy to laugh, lighter on the ice, and had bonded the team back together with his return.
Yet, I’m still surprised when he steps across the threshold and wraps me in a big bear hug. He squeezes me hard. “So good to see you.”
When he releases me, I laugh. “You really have changed. Dax told me you weren’t an asshole anymore, but I couldn’t believe it until I saw it with my own eyes.”
Tacker tips his head back and gives a booming laugh, his eyes shining bright as he shakes his head with amusement. “I like how you always call it as you see it.”
I study him a moment, and it’s plain as day.
He’s healed.
His heart has been mended.
His soul reborn.
“Come on in,” he says, backing up and motioning me in. I step inside, noting several boxes in the living room.
“You move in?” I ask when he shuts the door.
“Yeah… just before the playoffs started. My apartment was such a dump, and it’s not in the greatest area. Since Nora works here, it’s just more convenient if we stay here.”
“This place is beautiful,” I remark as Tacker leads me through the house.
“I love it out here,” he replies over his shoulder. “Nora’s even got me ridin
g horses, and I used to hate the damn things.”
When we enter the kitchen, my eyes land on Nora, who is bent at the waist and pulling a pan of what looks and smells like cinnamon rolls from the oven. She places them on the stovetop, then twists toward us with a smile. My breath catches at the sight.
She’s stunning.
I mean… supermodel gorgeous.
Her smile causes her beauty to be magnified to almost painful proportions, but it’s the light in her eyes that adds to the magic of her. It’s obvious she’s a good human being.
Tacker introduces us. “Babe… this is Willow Monahan.”
Nora takes off the oven mitt before approaching me. When I stick my hand out, she bypasses it, wrapping me up in a warm, all-encompassing hug that sticks for several moments. Without a word passed between us, I can feel her gratitude seeping from her body into mine.
She pulls back, hands on my shoulders, and looks at me straight on. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me.”
“It was nothing,” I say, my cheeks heating up a bit.
She scoffs. “It was everything to me.”
My cheeks heat up and she releases me, motioning toward the table. “Sit down. You want a cup of coffee?”
“That would be great,” I answer as I move to take a seat.
“I’ll grab the coffee and rolls,” Tacker offers, and I do a double-take. He truly has changed. “You two sit and talk.”
Nora saunters to Tacker, puts her hand on his hip, and rises on her tiptoes to kiss him. He closes his eyes to receive her lips, and my heart flutters in response to their love. For a moment—a mere wisp of time—I think perhaps I might want that someday.
Then stark reality slaps me in the face, a reminder I did try it once. Love had shit all over me—so badly I will gladly go without that kind of devotion, thank you very much.
“Sit,” Nora says as she heads to the table.
I pull out a chair, plop into it, and remove my iPad from my cross-body satchel. “I brought you some photos.”
Nora freezes, butt halfway to the padded chair beside me, her eyes wide with surprise.
I turn on the tablet. “I spent some time in Albania and Kosovo, including the Drenica Valley.”
Nora finally lowers herself. Sucking in a deep breath, she releases it slowly.
“If you’d rather not,” I offer quickly. It never occurred to me that she might not want to see the area that had once been her home. When Tacker invited me out, he’d said Nora was hungry for information on Kosovo and what it was like today. She’d not been back since she left twenty years ago.
“No,” she exclaims, giving me a confident smile. “I do want to see them. It’s more than I ever thought would be possible. I mean… you finding my family’s graves and—”
She trails off as it’s a heavy moment. I had, indeed, located the graves. Two of them—the massive hole in the ground they’d unceremoniously tossed the rebels’ bodies into after they were slaughtered, and the decent burial sites the international peace workers gave them years later. I took a lot of photographs of both, along with some of the beautiful countryside, old buildings, and interesting people.
With the help of the embassy, I had also gotten the ball rolling on figuring out how to get Nora’s family disinterred and moved to the United States to be buried on Shërim Ranch alongside her adoptive mother, Helen Wayne. It’s the main reason I thought Nora and Tacker wanted me to come out today, so I could tell them everything I’d learned.
“I can’t imagine the horrors you suffered,” I say. Dax had told me all about it and if I’d had to watch my family be gunned down, I’m not sure I could have survived it the way Nora had. “So, I’m not sure if these photographs will be healing or not. But they are beautiful. Albania is gorgeous, as I’m sure you remember. And the people there are just as beautiful. We could start with those if you want.”
It’s where she was born. My understanding is she didn’t live there long before her family moved to Kosovo, but it’s still her heritage.
“Yes, please,” she says eagerly, but her voice tremors slightly. Tacker comes up behind her, leaning to place two cups of coffee on the table. He presses a kiss to the top of her head as his eyes come to mine. I can tell he’s glad I brought pictures and he obviously thinks it will be good for her.
For the next hour, we nibble on cinnamon rolls as we scroll through my footage. I only go as fast as Nora wants me to, starting with her childhood country of Albania before she bravely moves on to Kosovo. She studies every single picture, sometimes in silence and other times telling Tacker and me about a happy moment she remembers. It brings tears to her eyes, which makes mine reciprocate. Tacker holds her hand the entire time.
I finish the last sip of my second cup of coffee, the iPad off now as we chitchat about the playoffs.
“Where are you off to next?” Tacker asks as Nora rises to take the empty plates and cups to the sink.
I slide my tablet into my satchel. “Actually, I just had an offer come through for a job in the Democratic Republic of the Congo.”
“Why? What’s there?”
I grimace. “War, pestilence, starvation… the usual. In this case, however, unrest over upcoming elections.”
“Is it dangerous?” Nora asks.
“Could be,” I reply with a smile. “But that’s just part of the job.”
“The part you like,” Tacker guesses.
While it’s true I’m a bit of an adrenaline junkie, I don’t enjoy putting my life in danger. I just happen to love my job so much it’s a risk I have to take.
“I like the rush of jumping out of planes or diving with sharks…” I stand from the table, then grin. “But I don’t like getting shot at. I do take every safety precaution, though, and we’re always provided with our own security force.”
“So will you take the job?” Nora asks.
I shrug. “I need to let them know soon, but I wanted to take some time off over the next several weeks for the playoffs. Vengeance is making history, you know.”
“That we are,” Tacker agrees with a chuckle.
“I really need to get going,” I regretfully say. “I’ve got errands to run.”
Nora shoots me a sly grin. “Darn… I was hoping we could talk about you and Dominik Carlson.”
“Yeah,” Tacker drawls as he pushes from his chair, eyes sparkling with mischief. “What’s all that about?”
I’d wondered what people knew or suspected. It’s no secret I’ve been in the owner’s box for the games. I know Dominik has personally hounded my brother about me in a not-so-private way. Lord knows I’ve heard him bitch about it often enough. And Dominik certainly displayed quiet aggression toward Wylde at the party last week, and I personally know hockey players gossip as much as high school girls.
“Let’s just say we’re enjoying each other’s company on a temporary playoff basis,” I offer vaguely. “But after that, I’m sure we’ll be going our separate ways.”
Nora tilts her head. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why go your separate ways?”
Tacker and Nora both appear incredibly confused, but they don’t know me well. “I’m just not looking for a relationship,” I reply. “It’s not my thing.”
“It never is,” Tacker says, and the tone of sage wisdom ringing through his words causes a chill to shoot up my spine. “Until it is.”
CHAPTER 12
Dominik
I never take my wealth for granted, and this is one of those times. One of the perks of this insanely well-appointed home I bought in Phoenix is a master bath practically designed to be lived in. It’s so big it has a suite of furniture on one side with plush carpeting underneath. A couch and two chaise lounge chairs and for the life of me, I can’t figure out why seating for more than two people is needed in a bathroom.
But I can live with that oddity because the sunken bathtub, which could easily seat four people, is a perfect haven to lounge in with Willow after
some extremely vigorous fucking that got us quite sweaty. With the miracle of a tankless hot water system, we have a deep pool of warm water topped with scented bubbles to soak and relax in.
Willow sits between my spread legs, reclining fully so her back is on my torso. I’ve got a sponge in one hand, running it along her arm.
“Kane Bellan seems to be fitting in nicely with the team,” she remarks.
That he does. He made a fast move from Raleigh to Phoenix in exchange for Rafe once the waivers cleared, and he’d stepped on the ice with us in time for game two against Seattle. By game four, he’d found his footing and his rhythm and had contributed a goal and three assists in the first round.
“I think his style of play matches Rafe’s so closely it’s made it a hell of a lot easier on us. It really was a good swap.”
“Which is good since Vancouver doesn’t have a deep second line.” She punctuates that with a giggle as I draw the sponge under her arm and along the side of her breast.
“You know it completely turns me on that you can discuss hockey with me,” I muse, moving the sponge to the middle of her chest. I place my mouth near her ear, murmuring, “It makes me want to do really dirty things to you.”
“Mmmm,” she replies lazily. “I’m okay with that.”
Of course she is. She’s inexhaustible when it comes to sex, which matches me perfectly. She genuinely enjoys the art of it. Loves orgasming and everything that leads up to it. She’s as much of a giver as a taker. Sometimes, she likes to give so much that I have to make her lay back and take it.
She’s perfect in every way when it comes to fucking.
When I move the sponge down her belly, she shifts against me, spreading her legs in a silent request for me to continue farther south.
When I glide it over her, she arches slightly, neck twisting to reveal the elegant slope of her neck and shoulder.
The scars I’ve noticed time and again, particularly when riding her from behind or rubbing soap over her in the shower, peek through the film of bubbles left there.
I halt my movements to trace one of the scars with the forefinger of my other hand. It’s slightly deeper than the others, completely white against the olive tone of her skin.
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