The Bad Boy Hockey Collection: A Collection Of Single Daddy Romances

by Cass Kincaid

  I sneak in through the front door, press a couple buttons on the alarm system keypad to keep it from blaring, and then drop my duffle bag onto the floor before locking the door behind me.

  The house is silent as a tomb, and dark as night.

  I make my way down the hallway. Faith’s bedroom door is partway open, and I can see her form under the covers.

  If I’m supposed to feel guilty for waking her, I don’t. Some things take precedence over manners. “Faith?” I whisper.

  She turns over, pulling herself up into a sitting position. There’s no fucking way she was asleep. When she reaches over and turns on the bedside lamp, casting dim light throughout the room, the wide, alert eyes that stare back at me confirm how awake she actually is.

  “You’re home,” she says.

  “And you’re beautiful.” In an instant, I’ve crossed the floor and dove toward her, crashing my mouth onto hers.

  If she’s offended or upset, she doesn’t show it, kissing me back with all the pent-up desire accumulated during the weeks I’ve been gone. Skype’s great, but it doesn’t fucking compare to having my hands on her flesh and my tongue in her mouth.

  We’re all hands and fingers and a flurry of desperate tugging to remove the barriers between us. I undress her, and she lets me, but I also kiss her roughly, nipping at her to mark her as my own as we fumble our way beneath the sheets.

  “Oh, Tristan...”

  I can’t control myself, and hearing my name so pleadingly and seductive on her lips nearly undoes me right then and there. The small whimpers and moans that come from her mouth as I hover over her, kissing the tender skin of her breasts and stomach and hips, only encourages me. I push her thighs apart, ducking my head just long enough to run my tongue along the sensitive skin of her inner thigh.

  The scent of her desire for me is intoxicating. The moonlight cascading through the window of the room puts her on display as her body arches and her muscles clench in response to my touch.

  Faith’s hands are in my hair, tugging me up to her. “Oh God, Tristan...please.”

  She’s begging, and it ignites the fire within me into a full-blown explosion. Her voice is hoarse with longing, and aching with need.

  She’s feels just like I do, I think. She’s just as desperate for me as I am for her.

  I position myself over her, pushing my cock against her entrance.

  “Faith—”

  She arches her hips up, pleading with me to thrust into her, and her silent plea halts any further words I might’ve said, instead causing a low growl to erupt from my throat. I sink into her, hard and fast, and she gasps.

  We both need a second, for her to adjust to me and for me to calm myself the hell down because the heat of her body clenched tightly around me could easily make me come in seconds. I pull back, only to thrust into her again.

  She cries out, “Tristan, oh God...”

  The sight of her beneath me, taking everything I give her, and the moans and whimpers she makes as her hips arch up to meet mine with each hard thrust—I can barely handle it. Hell, I can barely handle her. It’s like her body is made for mine, and the delicious sound of my name on her lips drives me closer and closer to the edge.

  I kiss her roughly, and the taste of her mouth, combined with the perfectly synced rhythm of our bodies and the yearning stare in her eyes—it does something to me.

  There’s more than just sexual chemistry between us. Even if I tried to tell myself it was only about physical attraction before, back in the beginning, I can’t hide from the truth now.

  “Oh...” Faith’s eyes squeeze shut, and I can feel her clenching agonizingly around me.

  I don’t slow my thrusts. “Faith,” I demand. “Look at me. Let me see you.”

  Sweat glistens on her forehead, but her hips still roll to meet each thrust, whimpering as she gives herself over to the sensual combination of pleasure and pain.

  “Come for me, Faith.” It’s a demand, and I thrust into her faster and harder, not giving her another choice.

  “Tristan!”

  Her body shatters beneath me, her fingernails digging violently into the flesh of my shoulders. I suck in a breath at the sharp pain of it, but I don’t slow down, thrusting into her again and again as my own orgasm overtakes me.

  Every muscle within Faith’s body contracts around me, and I can’t hold it back any longer.

  “Faith!” I bellow out her name in desperation. Blindly, I find her hand fisted amidst the sheets, and I entwine my fingers with hers, holding on for dear life until I finally slow my hips. Exhausted, I lower myself onto the bed beside her.

  “That was some going-away present.”

  Faith’s words hit me, but they sound distant, and it takes me a minute to realize I’m dozing off. Stay awake, asshole. You’ve got too much to say.

  “It wasn’t a going-away present.”

  I turn my head sluggishly, and see her wince. Then, I realize how gruff I sounded. “What I mean is...shit, Faith, I—”

  “I get it,” she says with a sad smile. “One more night together before I—”

  “What? No.” I pull my tired body up into a sitting position, reaching out to pull her up with me. The covers fall, and Faith immediately pulls them up to cover her naked body. I sigh, knowing damn well I’m making a fucking mess of this already. “I’m not very good with words, in case you haven’t noticed.” I attempt a crooked smile, but she’s staring at me blankly. “This isn’t a going-away present, Faith,” I repeat. “It’s my way of asking you to stay.”

  Her expression doesn’t change. “You want me to stay.”

  “With me,” I add. “I don’t have any right to ask that of you, but damn it, Faith, I mean it. This thing between us...I want to find out where it leads.”

  Finally, comprehension crosses her face. “I...I don’t even know what to say.”

  Her broken speech is sending an alarm bell off in my brain, but I keep reminding myself that, up until now, she’s been resigned to the fact that she’s leaving. That I’ve just been playing games, enjoying what little time we have left together. “You don’t have to say anything except what you really feel, Faith.”

  She lets out a slow breath. “You want to know how I really feel.”

  “I want you to stop repeating what I say,” I chuckle uneasily. “What do you want, Faith?”

  She stares at me for a long moment, unblinking. Then, she crawls forward, pressing her lips to mine again. “What I want is a replay of tonight, every night, for the rest of our days.”

  I’d been so damn nervous, knotted up inside that she wouldn’t want to be here any longer, with me and the kids, that it takes me a fleeting moment to realize what she’s saying. “You’re staying,” I say, unable to believe my ears.

  “You bet I’m staying.”

  My mouth is on hers in a heartbeat. “You’ve just made me the happiest man alive, Faith.” I push her back onto the bed, trailing kisses down the side of her jaw. “Now, let me see what I can do about giving you that replay you asked for.”

  She chuckles, and I can feel her breath against my shoulder. “You must be so tired, Tristan. We—”

  I press a fingertip to her lips. “Shh, I don’t want to hear it. You agreed to stay with me, so the least I can do is sacrifice a good night’s sleep to make you remember why it’s such a damn good idea.”

  She laughs again. “A sacrifice, huh?”

  “We’ve all got to make sacrifices,” I whisper against her skin. “That’s what we do for the ones we love.”

  I raise my gaze to meet hers, and her eyes are wide. “Did you just say you—”

  “Love you?” I smile wryly. “Damn right. And you better get used to hearing it, since you’re staying.”

  She smiles, and I see tears glistening in her eyes. “I feel the same way, but I feel it’d be cheesy if I said it back to you now.”

  “Don’t worry,” I say with a grin. “You can scream it out during the replay I’m about to give
you.”

  Epilogue

  Faith

  I’m holding one of the envelopes between my fingers. The one that will say whether I’ve been accepted to college or not. My heart is beating out of control. All I keep thinking is, when I was in high school, school came easy to me. But there wasn’t so much riding on it back then.

  Everything’s changed, once again. I can’t even figure out how so much good can come out of so much bad.

  My dad’s a compulsive gambler. He shouted the truth at me during one of his short-lived phone conversations...right before he had the audacity to ask for another thousand dollars. I’ve been blind to his addiction for a long time—long enough that I didn’t step forward in time. The hardware store was sold by the bank. And though I did give Dad that five thousand dollars to fix things, he didn’t use it to settle the arrears on the loan. I try not to blame myself for that one, because I’m honestly not sure five thousand would’ve been enough to cover it anyway, but it hurts just the same.

  The house was nearly taken, too, but, when push came to shove, I couldn’t let him lose his home. I’ve got Tristan to thank for helping me with that.

  Tristan also offered to pay for Dad’s rehab, to help him get the help he needs. Dad flat-out refused, called us both every name in the book, and said he didn’t want anything to do with me again. I haven’t heard from him, and I gave up hoping he’ll answer when I call. It hurts that he chose gambling over me, especially when I didn’t ask him to make a choice between the two, but all I can do is hope that someday he changes his mind.

  It just feels like everything about my life has been a lie until now. Until Tristan, Darcy, and Ferguson.

  But this? This is real.

  “Is she going to open it, or are we going to sit here all day?” Darcy glances over at Tristan skeptically. He’d barbequed dinner, leaving the opening of the envelopes until the end.

  Ferguson toddles over and kisses me on the cheek. “It’s okay, Faith. If you can’t go, we still love you.”

  Leave it to him to make me want to bawl my eyes out at his cuteness. He’s so loveable.

  Which is a bit like his dad when he lets his guard down. Sometimes he still keeps his defenses up, and it drives me crazy, but we have a lot of things to work on, and we can only take things one step at a time.

  And right now, that next step is opening this damn envelope.

  I want to go to Arizona State so bad I can practically taste it. I want to be here, with this family, and be a part of it. Tristan and I can get through this, but it’ll be a hell of a lot easier if I’m in Arizona.

  “Are you going to open it, or just stare at it?”

  I stick my tongue out at him, but then nod my head. Moment of truth.

  With a deep breath in, I open the first one. “First, Boston.” I rip it open, then read the words.

  “Well?” Tristan says expectantly. He moves to my side, not to read over my shoulder, but for support.

  “I didn’t get in.” I put the letter down. The rejection doesn’t faze me. I didn’t want to go to Boston anyway, and Tristan knows that. I want to be here, where I belong.

  “Next, Colorado.”

  Tristan nods, and I rip open the next envelope.

  Another rejection. My heart’s racing now. This suddenly isn’t feeling so promising anymore. My hands are trembling now, and the idea of another rejection feels like too much to bear.

  “Do you want me to open the last one?” Tristan asks, holding his hand out for the envelope.

  I nod. “Please.”

  All eyes are on him as he opens it. Immediately, a smile grows wide on his face.

  “Am I going to Arizona?”

  He turns the letter toward me, grinning wildly. “You’re going to Arizona State!”

  “Good, now you two can stop sneaking into each other’s rooms!” Darcy states happily, coming around to my side.

  Both Tristan and I snap our heads up, staring at the little girl like she’s grown a second head.

  We didn’t feel we were ready to tell the kids about us just yet. About our relationship. We didn’t want to confuse them, or make anything awkward.

  Yeah, awkward. You know, kind of like finding out that we haven’t done a very good job of pulling the wool over his daughter’s eyes.

  Tristan’s grinning from ear to ear, and he pulls me out of my chair, swinging me in the air. I feel the heat of his body on me, and it fortifies me, making me no longer afraid of anything.

  Ferguson’s sitting in his chair, obviously confused at his sister’s comment, but then he starts clapping. Maybe he doesn’t exactly know why, but he will. We can tell him, just as soon as we’re done celebrating and laughing and enjoying this moment.

  They’re my ready-made family, and Tristan is the man I’m going to love for life. Not because I have to, but simply because I want to.

  “I love you, Faith Wilson.”

  I stand on my tiptoes, giving him a peck on the lips, which is followed swiftly by Darcy’s and Ferguson’s collective, “Ew!”

  I laugh, unable to take my eyes off the man in front of me. “I love you more.”

  And I do, with all my heart. I love his children just as much.

  There was a spark that ignited that love within me the first time I met them at the concession stand. Now, we have the rest of our lives to let it burn.

  Unexpected Daddy: A Bad Boy Hockey Romance

  Prologue

  Craig

  The morning begins just like every other morning has before it for the past year and a half. Being a twenty-one-year-old college student on a hockey scholarship allows me to lead a life that consists of the same things on a regular basis—hockey, parties, a bit of studying, and a lot of women.

  Okay, so the long line of women might be a relatively new development for me—since my long-term girlfriend, Ella, dumped for me unknown reasons about four months ago—but they’ve become my favorite kind of distraction from what’s missing in my life.

  Which just happens to be her.

  But I’m almost finished my final year of college, and if my hockey career doesn’t take off right away, at least I will have a diploma in my hand, with the chance to earn my automotive technician licensing.

  That’s the thing—not only am I a damn good stick handler, I’m also damn good with my hands, too.

  Just ask the pretty blonde woman in my bed. She’s still passed out from the night before, and normally I still would be as well if it wasn’t for the dull headache starting to pulse in my head. I slip out of bed and pull my jeans on, finding them crumpled in a pile on the floor.

  Wow, by the looks of things, she and I must have been pulling our clothes off from the moment we got in the door. My t-shirt is on the floor just inside the doorway, and her bra is slung over the chair by my desk on the other side of the room. Other articles of clothing are strewn haphazardly between those two points.

  This dorm room must have been barely big enough to contain our lust last night.

  It’s too bad I can’t remember it. Or her name, for that matter.

  I know I should probably be ashamed of myself, but that would involve feeling something. Something other than the betrayal and pain from Ella’s departure. I can’t even call it a breakup because there was no breakup, just a note saying she was sorry and that this wasn’t how she wanted things to be.

  Well, that makes two of us.

  By then, she had already been to my dorm room and grabbed the few things she’d kept here for the nights she spent with me off and on throughout the school week, leaving the dorm key I’d given her on my nightstand and placing the note in the middle of my bed.

  I tried to call her, but she changed her phone number.

  I tried to track her down by calling her parents, but they wouldn’t tell me anything except that Ella didn’t want to see me and that I should respect that.

  It’s hard to respect someone who leaves you with a written note of apology, though.

  So, after
almost two years of living a life that revolved around Ella Barker, I’ve managed to move on the only way I know how. More hockey, more partying, and more sex with women to try to take my mind off the pain that engulfs me when I’m sober.

  The shrill ringing of a phone makes me squint my eyes in front of the bathroom mirror. I’ve just gotten the cap off the ibuprofen bottle and I’m shaking a couple of them into my hand when the sound assaults my ears.

  “Are you going to get that?” A groggy voice speaks up from the bed.

  I retreat from the bathroom, taking in the sight of the woman in my bed, still huddled under the covers like it’s a fortress from the annoyances of the world, only her head peeking out. Her blonde hair is tousled and there are dark circles under her eyes from mascara and lack of sleep.

  Something knots in my gut. She’s pretty and can’t be older than twenty-one. She deserves so much better than the one-night stand she’s getting from me.

  “Yeah,” I grunt. “Just give me a sec.”

  She groans some kind of incoherent response, but I’m already popping the pills into my mouth and chasing them with water from the bottle on my nightstand, my eyes searching out the phone. Another loud ring alerts me to its location on the desk, and manage to answer it on the third ring, much to my bedmate’s frustration.

  “Hello?” I don’t even bother to check the caller display, too eager to make the shrill sound stop reverberating through my head.

  “Is this Craig Connelly?”

  I don’t recognize the voice on the other end of the line. “It is. Who’s this?”

  “My name is Marla, sir. I’m a nurse at the Richmond County General. I’ve been asked by Ella Barker to contact you—”

  “What happened?” Every nerve ending in my body has begun to sizzle and snap with anxiety. My brain automatically conjures up numerous reasons for Ella and the local hospital to be associated with one another. “Is Ella okay?”