by April Cronin
He looked stunning in his uniform, his hair mussed and already damp from his warm up earlier. His eyes peered up at her through his long lashes several times as he split his attention between her and the task at hand. She was so lucky to have such a man. A handsome man like Peter. A man that loved her the way he did.
Someone dressed in formal wear came into the room then, a hushed silence falling throughout the room. “Alright guys, it's time.” The big man said with a nod and a smile.
Then one by one, the coaches, the staff and the players began to line up, ready to take the ice for the raising of the banner and the final presentation of the Stanley Cup before it went to where ever it was kept during the season.
Harmony watched as Abby gave Dean a loud smacking kiss and a tap on the butt before sending him out of the locker room, then she turned to Harmony and Peter, and with a wink, strode out to the area outside the ice, a special section that had been set up for family and friends to watch the ceremony.
Smiling as they faced each other, Peter towering over her as he looked into her violet-tinged eyes, Harmony reached up and stroked a finger down the side of his cheek. “I love you,” she said.
Then Peter kissed her, hard. His lips smothering hers, his tongue taking control of her mouth with a sinful pleasure, one they would never take for granted again. “Ja tebja ljublju!” he whispered in Russian, and then again in English as he nipped at her earlobe. “I love you too.”
Harmony laughed, watching afterward as Peter re-adjusted the pads around his groin. Someone just outside the locker room said his name then, catching their attention. They could hear the announcers just outside the hall, one by one the Slashers team members of this year’s roster were announced, and Peter needed to get out on the ice.
“Peter you're up.” Someone in the distance said again.
“Da, yeah. I am coming.” He shouted back over his shoulder.
His eyes met hers, the coldness of his gaze replaced with a warmth that Harmony could feel clear to her toes. She smiled, flicked her finger down his nose.
“Go get 'em tiger.” she said.
Peter grabbed her, and squeezing her as though he never meant to let her go again, he gave her one more smacking kiss, and made haste for the door.
Harmony went to the edge of the hall, family and friends were gathered just outside the glass, watching excitedly as this year’s roster proudly skated around the rink.
Peter slid out onto the ice, throngs of adoring fans cheering as his name was called over the sound system.
Gliding around the rink in circles, he waved to them, his homecoming more than welcoming, as if the events of the summer had never come to pass. Then catching Harmony's smiling face as he passed by where she stood off to the side, he winked at her.
Harmony's heart squeezed at the sight of him, there was such happiness on his face. This beautiful Russian Adonis of hers. Together they had faced down the unimaginable, and together they would face the rest.
A new season.
A new start.
A new life....together.
###
Notes from the author;
Thank you so much for picking up a copy of the third and final installment in The Savannah Slashers Series! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I loved writing it! And be sure to check out the first two books in the series Icing the Competition, and Melting the Ice if you haven't already!
I want to take the time to thank one of my favorite new players of the Chicago Blackhawks, 2015 rookie of the year, Artemi Panarin. For without Panarin's boyishly handsome good looks and his shyness as he navigates through American customs, Peter wouldn't have won my heart the way he did, inspiring me to create his own story.
I also want to thank my wonderful friend Jessica for her creative genius where Harmony is concerned. She wouldn't have jumped off the pages as she has without you!
And of course, to Jean, my amazing friend, and editor, who has devoted her valuable time to making sure my story is as error free and enjoyable as possible! I can't thank you enough!
I truly hope you enjoyed getting to know the men of the Savannah Slashers, and I hope you'll take a moment to leave a review with your favorite ebook retailer on my behalf!
-April
About the Author
After writing her first novel Contractual Attraction and naming her lead character after two of her favorite hockey players, April decided to write a series of books about two of her favorite things, hockey, and romance! Inspired by the men of the Chicago Blackhawks, The Savannah Slashers Series pays tribute to three of the hottest men in the league while introducing readers to new and intriguing story lines. April currently lives in Florida with her husband and two young sons, where she is hard at work on her next novel! April loves to hear from fellow romance, and hockey enthusiasts, and welcomes comments from readers!
Connect with me!
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If you enjoyed reading Thin Ice, you'll love my next novel!
Here's a sneak peek at my next novel, The Placebo Effect! Coming to your favorite ebook retailer in 2017!
After a long hot shower, Olivia slipped into her favorite nightgown, a bright red chemise that hung nearly to her ankles and felt luxuriously soft against her skin, and plopped down onto the couch where she and Spook curled up together to watch the latest episode of the Bachelor she'd DRV'd, reality TV being one of her favorite past times, that and a good book.
She thought about tomorrow, what time she would get up, what she might wear, and whether or not she would stay at her brother's shop. She enjoyed working at the shop with him, didn't mind getting her hands a little dirty, and he was short staffed more often than not. The shop, as it had been, was still a client of Seaward Staffing, they provided payroll services mostly, but from time to time, a temp was found through them as well. Nobody lasted very long there though. Amadeus wasn't a tough boss by any means, but the work was rather demanding.
They were a very busy deli, and did catering and delivery as well. Having worked there herself since she was a little girl, Olivia knew just how demanding the work really was. And while there were a few employees that had been there for a lengthy period of time, most of the part-timers came and went faster than the changing seasons.
Olivia wasn't sure if she felt like working this weekend. It had been a rough week at Seaward Staffing as it was. Trying to plan their upcoming expansion into Miami was no small order. And being as the Seawards were planning to move down there and manage it themselves, that left Olivia tasked with figuring out what came next for her own agency.
Her own agency. Gosh, it was nice to say that. While it would still be known as Seaward Staffing Services, and Mr. Seaward would still command a profit, as well as hold the final say in any decisions she may make, it would for all intents and purposes be her agency. She would run it. She would staff it. She would be in charge.
Lost in thoughts of what would be, what could be, Olivia was startled by the knock at the door. It wasn't necessarily late, but as she certainly hadn't been expecting anyone, it made her more nervous than curious about who had decided to call on her at this time of the evening on a Friday night. As she crept closer to the door, Spook took off for her usual hiding spot under the couch, her ears pinned back, as she glared at Olivia.
Olivia laughed, trying to calm her own nerves, “it's okay Spook, you silly kitty.” She said in what she thought was a soothing voice.
As she opened the door though, Spook shot out from under the couch, streaking down the hallway, her fur on end, and a loud hiss erupting from her throat.
It was just the distraction he needed. That stupid cat freaking out and darting past caug
ht Olivia's attention at just the right moment.
It was fate.
Carrying a large vase of flowers, and wearing a nondescript gray uniform along with a pair of shades and a wig, he had hoped to gain entrance under the guise of a delivery man. Olivia was his, there was no doubt about that, but he knew it would probably take a little coaxing to get her to comply. So as the cat distracted her, he pulled a small taser from his pocket and shoved it against the smooth column of her throat.
Olivia gasped as the cold steel of the taser pressed into the hollow of her neck. She couldn't see the man that stood before her, there was a large vase overstuffed with flowers between them, but as he walked into the house, closing the door behind him with his foot, she closed her eyes and began to pray silently. When he spoke, his words were low and harsh as he instructed her to head towards her bedroom, she didn't recognize his voice, though she thought she should have.
The sleeves of the uniform he wore were rolled up, and on his forearm was a tattoo of some sort of tribal symbol. Something she could swear she'd seen before. If only she could recall where! Olivia wasn't stupid by any means, she knew what was going to happen next. And she thought, she hoped that perhaps if he let her live, afterward she might be able to somehow identify him or something. She tried to stay calm. Whatever it took to stay alive, that's what she'd do.
Once they got into the bedroom, where Spook could be heard hissing and yowling under the bed, he pushed her face down onto the mattress, holding the taser against the back of her neck so she didn't try to look at him as he placed the flowers on the bedside table and straddled her on the mattress. She could feel the hardness of his shaft in the cleft of her buttocks, and swallowing the bile that rose in her throat she began to cry, hair getting caught in her mouth and forcing her to try and calm down as she gagged.
Her body shook with violent sobs as he applied a blindfold and flipped her over, securing her hands and feet to the bed railings. She tried desperately to stay calm, and when her nerves failed her, she started pleading, begging him not to hurt her.
As he stared down at her, lashed to the bed, and completely helpless, a smile bloomed across his face. She was even more beautiful than he'd ever thought possible. Her skin soft and bronze in the low light of the lamp, the outline of her breasts full and heavy under the thin fabric of her chemise, and despite the tears that tracked down her perfect face, despite her squeaky protests and pleas, he felt the weight of his groin against the fly of his trousers.
He ran a hand down the side of her face, and when she flinched, the beast inside him began to stir. It was bad enough he'd had to restrain her, and worse yet that she had started to cry. This wasn't how he'd imagined it. She'd been willing and pliant in all of his many fantasies. And yet, as she lay there, she tried to struggle against her restraints, pressing herself further into the mattress in an attempt to shrink away from him.
“Stop struggling and you might actually enjoy this Olivia,” he whispered in her ear before shoving his tongue deep into the warm canal, sucking at her ear lobe, and causing her sobs to rack her body harder.
The beast was angry now. The bitch wouldn't stop crying. Hadn't he been gentle this whole time? Wasn't he kissing her, caressing her even in the way any woman might want to be touched? He tried to keep the beast at bay, he tried to tamp down the anger and the hatred her cries elicited, but as his hands began to knead her breasts and she jerked away from him, the beast fought to get loose.
He had called her by name! He even had the audacity to tell her she'd enjoy being raped! Try as she might though, she didn't recognize his voice. He smelled of stale cigarettes and pepperoni, his skin was clammy against her own, and his voice a harsh whisper in her ear.
When he touched her though, she became panicked. She was sickened by the feel of his hands on her, but her body seemed to react, her fear was an aphrodisiac, and surely it would only turn him on even more. Reacting to that fear, she tried to shy away from him, she bucked and struggled beneath him. Still, he kept touching her, gently, methodically even. It wasn't until she spit at him that he moved away from her.
Her relief, however, was short lived. He cursed at her, and in the next instant his hand came down across her face. Olivia felt the sting of that slap for what seemed like an eternity before his weight pressed her into the mattress again, and his lips began to softly caress the side of her face where he had slapped her. She cried in earnest now. And she could feel him trembling against her, the steel of his arousal pressing into the hollow of her womanhood, his breath hot and rank on her neck as he whispered words he hoped would soothe her.
He was sorry he had to slap her, but she must not spit at him. She would enjoy this if only she would be still, he said. Please, he begged, just let him love her like she wanted him to. Like she wanted him to? Olivia had no idea who this madman was, but she certainly didn't want him to make love to her! There had to be a way to get him to stop this, but as she continued to try and struggle out of her restraints, as tears flowed down her face in a salty plea, she could tell she was only making him angrier. And she feared he would hit her again.
This wasn't at all as he had planned it, though his body responded, though he was more than ready to take her and claim her body as his own, he just wasn't into it mentally. He needed to find a way to make her stop. To make her understand. He tried teasing her body into submission, and he could feel the way she responded, even if involuntarily, if only she'd quit crying!
The beast had already hit her once, and he'd liked it. If she didn't quit crying, the beast might lash out again. And as a thought came to mind, it took root deep within him, maybe if she was unconscious he could enjoy this a little more. Sure, he'd like to have her cooperation, but if she wasn't capable of giving it to him, he might just have to force her into it.
Pressing the taser into the softness of her flat belly, he leaned closer, whispered into her ear, “this is your last chance Olivia, if you can't stop crying, I'm going to be forced to use this. I don't want to hurt you Olivia, I only want to love you.”
“Then let me go!” she cried, “I promise I won't tell anyone about this!”
He laughed, oh Olivia, sweet naive Olivia. She hadn't seen him, to be able to tell anyone anything, and by the time he was done, there wouldn't be any evidence to prove he'd ever been in her home to begin with.
“I can't let you go Olivia, you're mine, and it's time you understand this thing between us.”
“You're crazy!”
“Oh Olivia, how I've waited for this moment,” he leaned further against her, licking the side of her mouth, sucking her full bottom lip into his mouth as she struggled against him. “You taste exactly how I thought you would.” Using one hand, he lifted the bottom of her nightgown and began stroking her soft womanly folds. She gasped, crying out in both panic and pleasure as he fingered her until her body responded with a hot wetness.
The taser still pressed into her belly, he slid himself down her body and tasted her more intimately. Olivia thrashed then, unable to bear it a second longer, one of her knees struck him in the face. The beast broke free then, he reeled back, screamed at her, lashed out and punched her repeatedly in the face as his nose began to bleed profusely.
Olivia shrieked beneath him, her own nose now broken, her lip split open, blood gushing from multiple wounds as he continued to pound on her. The taser finally firing against her inner thigh as he yelled obscenities at her.
He ripped the blindfold from her face then, “look at me bitch!” he shouted.
Her body jerking, an explosion of pain as he pressed the taser between her legs and continued to pull the trigger. She clamped her eyes shut, trying to hold on, trying to fight, as the darkness finally overcame her.
Her last thought before the darkness consumed her was, oh my god, he's going to kill me.
“Be still and you might enjoy it Olivia.” His breath was hot on her skin, his body slick with sweat as he rutted against her. “You belong to me Olivia,” he said to
her as he stiffened and spilled himself into her. She screamed, her head thrashing from side to side as he laughed at her mercilessly.
“Olivia.” He said again, his voice sounding far off. “Olivia, can you hear me? Come back to us Olivia.”
No, not his voice. A woman, her baritone soothing and gentle. Olivia struggled to latch onto the sound. Pain ricocheted through her head, color exploding behind her eyelids as she breached the edge of awareness. Perspiration beaded her forehead, her eyes were heavy, and it hurt as she tried to open them. Her mouth was dry, her lips felt two sizes bigger and as she ran her course tongue along them she felt a cavernous split down the middle of her bottom lip.
Where am I? Was her first thought, and though she tried to communicate with the woman who was gently patting her hand, she couldn't force the words out. Her throat felt terribly raw.
“Olivia.” The voice said again, “you're awake.”
She nodded, or, at least she thought she did. She couldn't be sure. Between the pain and the sense of weightlessness, she didn't know which body parts worked and which ones didn't.
“Olivia, if you can hear me, I want you to try and squeeze my hand.”
She tried. Yes, I can hear you, she thought to herself. Where am I? Why can't I move?
“Good, that's good.” The voice soothed. “I'm Dr. Henshaw, you're in the hospital Olivia.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, a lone tear leaking out of the side of her swollen oculus.
“We can talk more in a little while, you need to rest. Rest now Olivia. You're safe here.”