by Penny Dee
But for me this was something different. This was the moment I had waited for for a long time.
Three months of hard work had all led to this one game. This one moment in time where I would face-off with Salazar—the player who I felt was just as responsible for Tyler’s death as I was. If he hadn’t gone after me and knocked me down that morning my skate would never have slit Tyler’s throat.
Priscilla’s mighty roar vibrated around the arena signaling to us that it was time, and again the crowd went crazy.
Casanova grinned and patted me on the shoulder, while Cowboy and Michael Angelo whooped and cheered.
Loki secured his helmet at the crown of his head. “Let’s go get those motherfucking pussies,” he crowed.
As soon as we appeared on the ice, the crowd went wild. And I mean, wild. Their cheers reverberated throughout the arena, and as we circled our end of the ice I felt the energy of our fans flood every pore of my body. The roars, the cheering, the clapping, the spectacular light show—it was like a fuel line to my heart.
At the end of the song when the broad-beamed floodlights came on and all the flash and pizzazz disappeared in readiness for the game, I dragged in a long breath and then slowly exhaled. Biting back my nerves I glided across the ice to where Ayton Salazar waited for me.
His cold, shark eyes landed on me.
“Welcome back, widowmaker,” he jeered.
I leaned forward and winked at him.
Time to wipe the floor with his smug face.
* * *
Chapter Thirty-Two
Mackenzie
I was terrified, buzzing and excited all at the same time. My heart was doing a crazy little dance in my chest as I stood on the sidelines of the rink and watched the Fury enter the rink. Around me, the light show bounced off the ice and the ceiling like fireworks. Excitement charged the air and the arena was a sea of red and black Galveston Fury jerseys.
There was so much hype around the first game of the best of seven. The NYC Ice Cats had lost the previous year’s Stanley Cup to the LA Lynx and they were hungry for the win. While the Fury wanted to prove that it was no fluke—they had earned their place in the top two.
It was the underdog stepping up to the top dog. Of course, there was no way the Galveston Fury would beat the NYC Ice Cats. No way. But everyone loved the idea that the team who had marinated for years at the bottom of the leader board was set to take on the championship favorites.
It was your classic David and Goliath story. And everyone was going crazy for it.
As Jake skated onto the ice, the fans went crazy. They banged against the boards and screamed his name. Signs popped up in the crowd, welcoming Jake back to the playoffs—some even offering some kind of sexual favor or declaring their love for the returning hero. Jake looked focused as he took it in, his expression a perfect poker face, but I knew his heart would be thumping wildly and his nerves would be firing. He hid it well, but acknowledged his fans with a nod and a blink-and-you’d-miss-it salute before joining his teammates.
As the hype of the dazzling pre-game light show ended and the teams got ready to faceoff, Jake glided over to face the captain of the Ice Cats. Anticipation flared in my stomach.
You’ve got this, babe . . . you’ve got this.
The game was fast paced and Jake did not disappoint the crowd with his on-point performance, scoring two goals with two assists. It was a faultless game right up until the third period when one of the opposing team’s D-men came at him and they both went down. I saw the crash, saw him smash his shoulder to the ice as they fell in a tangled heap.
The penalty put the Fury in a prime position, and ten minutes later they won the game three to one.
The arena erupted with excitement. On the rink, gloves scattered the ice as the Fury celebrated their win.
“Well, I’ll be goddamned,” said a familiar voice next to me. I turned to see Bob Murdoch standing next to me. I had been so absorbed in the game I hadn’t even noticed him.
“You took the words right out of my mouth,” I replied.
After the game, the team had a few media commitments. It was almost an hour before I saw him but when I did I ran to him and he lifted me up in his arms and spun me around.
“I was going to ask you if you were okay,” I laughed as he placed me back down.
Jake’s smile was big and deliciously perfect. “Man, that felt good.”
“How’s your shoulder? It looked like a you took a pretty big hit to the ice.”
He shrugged it off. “It’s fine.” His eyes twinkled down at me and there was a familiar heat there. “Come on, let’s go back to my place and celebrate.”
Back at his apartment, I tended to Jake’s cranky shoulder. He sat on a stool in front of me, his skin warm from the shower, his hair still damp, and I kneaded and worked his muscles, my hands sliding over his golden skin and pressing deep into the crevices of his deltoids. He groaned at the relief.
I had a jar of massage cream in my bag and went to get it. But Jake grabbed my wrist. When I looked at him, I saw the heat in his eyes. I thought the game would exhaust him but I was wrong. It had turned him on. Despite his tangle with the overzealous D-man. Despite his sore shoulder. He tugged me back to him, securing his arms around me and pulling me down to him. His kiss was rough. Hot. Needy. He licked into me, the palms of his hands pressing into my jaw as he held my mouth to his.
There were no words. Just need. And when I pulled back, Jake growled and pulled me back to him, ripping open my shirt. I gasped and he grinned wickedly as his eyes glittered over my breasts.
“You’re not wearing a bra,” he breathed.
“No.” I raised an eyebrow.
“At the game . . . you weren’t wearing it?” He asked, seemingly mesmerized by my breasts.
I gave a little shake of my head. “No.”
With a coarse rush of breath he moaned, “That’s so fucking sexy.” And he pulled me onto his lap and kissed me fiercely, his big hands holding my face to his. “You turn me on so much,” he murmured against my throat.
Energy spun around us in the room and instantly my body wanted him. I reached for him and he lifted me up, hooking his big arms behind my knees to carry me over to the bed. He lay me down and hovered above me, kissing me as he expertly peeled every item of clothing from my body. When he had me naked, his eyes took in every inch of me. His towel was gone, and I watched with needy desire as his cock dipped and lifted at the sight of my nakedness. He forced open my legs, exposing me completely, and he growled like a man possessed with need as he placed his bulk between my parted thighs, and his tongue licked over the very beginning of me. I flinched and moaned, my desire hitting a new level of desperation. His big hands gripped the back of my thighs, his fingers pushing deep into my muscles as his tongue licked and fucked me.
“You taste so fucking good, baby,” he groaned, trailing his tongue along my sex to my thigh. He pressed his face against my skin and I shivered, needing him, wanting him, wanting his cock inside me. His tongue traced an invisible path from my thighs to my belly, his gentle lips brushing across my skin, lighting fires along the length of me as he made his way up to my breasts. When his mouth closed over one nipple and then the next, I arched my back and moaned. And then his fingers took up the plight to tease me; sliding into me with a slow torturous rhythm, and it was all I could take to not beg him.
And then his cock was there. His big, gloriously hard cock. Holding it tightly at the base he rubbed the smooth head against the very sensitive part of me, pushing through the slickness, parting me, rubbing me, torturing me.
“Fuck me . . .” I finally begged, my body creaming with an urgent need to be filled with what was teasing me.
With one swift movement he rammed into me, thrusting a moan from my lips and taking the air from my lungs in surprise. He gripped my arms, and pressed strong fingers into my skin as he ploughed into me once more. His body was a mountain. A wall of cut muscle. And his bulk provided the perfect fo
rce behind each thrust.
“You make me so hard, baby,” he breathed, his hips lunging toward mine, his cock pushing me toward the edge. “I want to feel you come. I want to feel your tight pussy when you come all over me.”
It was all I needed. He had taken me to the edge and now his words pushed me over it. My climax hit me like a tidal wave, whipping me off my axis and shooting me into outer space.
“That’s it, baby.” He pressed in hard, grinding against me, his brows pulled together as pleasure overwhelmed him. “You’re going to make me come.”
My orgasm rolled through me, on and on, and my muscles convulsed violently as he milked me with his words and his moans. He tucked his arms at my side, his body a slick and warm plane as he continued to fuck me with perfect rhythm. I wound my trembling legs around him, welcoming him deeper into me.
“Oh, Z . . .” He dragged in a deep breath and then thrust my arms above my head, holding them down. “I love fucking you,” he gazed down at me with hooded eyes, then squeezed them shut and his face shimmered with pleasure. “. . . what you do to me . . . I can’t get enough.”
I thought I was spent. Thought I was done. But a slow stream of hot sweetness flowed through me, gathering speed and heat and potency as it coiled around my clit and in one bright, devastating moment erupted into an almighty release of ecstasy.
I pressed my head backwards into the pillow and let out a long and rich moan as my second orgasm wrecked me.
“You’re so fucking perfect,” he breathed, grinding harder to make my orgasm draw out.
When it got to be too much, he pulled out and pressed the head of his cock into the soft folds, spilling come onto the wet lips of my sex. He shuddered and jerked, moaning as he milked himself onto me, every shudder bringing more.
With a groan he collapsed beside me and wrapped his strong arms around me, pulling me to his thundering chest and pressing his warm lips to my temple.
He took a moment to catch his breath. For his heart to settle.
“You give me strength,” he whispered, his breath like a warm feather against my cheek.
I was so comfortable and hazy from my orgasms that I didn’t want to move. “What do you mean?” I murmured against his hard chest.
“What you do to me. I’ve never felt like this before.” His hand came up to tangle in my hair and gently massage my skull. Goosebumps rippled along my arms. “You make me feel strong.” He pressed another kiss to my hair and I felt him relax into the pillow. His head tilted back as he stared up at the ceiling. “You need to know . . .”
“What?”
“You are my everything now.”
* * *
Mackenzie
Three days later, the Fury handed the Ice Cats their asses in a fast-paced game that saw the Fury take home the win, four to one. Four days after that, they did the same thing in game three at Madison Square Garden.
Back at his apartment after the game, I stood on the little balcony overlooking the Village and watched the dying sun settle over the city. Jake came up behind me and began to lay a trail of kisses along the back of my neck and shoulders.
I turned in his arms and he kissed me deeply.
When he broke away he looked at me intently, “You know, things are going to get crazy if we win the Cup.”
I nodded in agreement. “I think they have already.”
His eyes glittered over my face as he tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear. “Are you okay with it?”
Again, I nodded. “I am if you are.”
He grinned and then his eyes dropped to my lips and the way he looked at me sent all types of crazy throughout my body.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” he said, his hands sliding up the length of me. “It wasn’t so long ago that I didn’t think my life could ever feel this good again.”
I laced my fingers at the back of his neck. “You deserve it.”
He pulled away and I watched as he crossed the room to where an impressive wall cabinet reached from the floor to the high plaster ceiling. He opened one of the many small little drawers and pulled out a small box.
Crossing the room back to me, he handed it to me, his eyes twinkling.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Open it,” he urged.
I pried open the lid and my breath trapped in my throat. Sitting on a bed of black velvet was a gleaming, silver charm bracelet.
“It’s beautiful,” I whispered, gingerly touching the shiny silver links with the tips of my fingers. It was stunning. A small, platinum heart hung off one of the links and engraved into the metal were the words, Something Real. My heart lurched. He had had this made for me. “I love it.”
His smile was gentle. Soft. Almost shy. And for a fleeting moment I realized he had probably never done anything like this before.
I tenderly touched his face. “Thank you.”
He bit his lower lip. “Here,” he said, delicately lifting the bracelet from the box and fastening it around my wrist. When I held my hand up to look at it, his eyes shone across at me.
“I love you, Z,” he said warmly and all the butterflies in my stomach took flight.
“I love you, too, Jake. So much.”
He leaned down and gently brushed his lips to mine and love burst out from my chest in a wave of warmth. But it wasn’t alone. Because rising up from deep within me was a gut-tightening surge of guilt.
* * *
Chapter Thirty-Three
Mackenzie
The headline read: Jake Pennington: From Nothing to Number One.
My father threw the paper down on his desk.
“Congratulations, kid,” he said with a big smile.
I didn’t share his enthusiasm. In fact, I couldn’t even manage a smile.
My eyes shifted to Garrick.
“I want out of the bet,” I said.
Garrick looked like I’d just told him Madonna was retiring.
“You’re kidding me?” He scoffed but then realizing I was serious, his grin faded. “Wait, you’re serious? You’re backing out?”
I nodded. “It was wrong to begin with.”
I shoved my hands into the back pocket of my jeans.
Garrick started to laugh. “Well, I’ll be! You like him.”
When I said nothing, my cousin’s smile faded and he gasped. “Oh, my Lord, you’re in love with him!”
I swallowed hard. “Yes.”
My father said nothing. But his wise eyes reached across the room to me and I knew in that moment that he knew how I felt about Jake. Instead of the frown I half expected, he gave me a gentle nod.
But Garrick wasn’t going to let me off so easy. In fact, he was highly amused. He clapped his hands together as he walked toward the edge of the large, mahogany desk, leaning against it and shaking his head with an odd mix of disbelief, smugness and an emotion he wasn’t accustomed to . . . appreciation.
“My cousin, in love with the hockey player!” he said with another shake of his head.
“Yep.”
“What a shame. You know you totally kicked my ass with this bet.” He folded his arms. “Are you sure you want to bow out?”
“Yes.”
He nodded and chuckled, looking down at the gold ring on his finger. “You did the impossible and made Jake Pennington hot property again. Purgatory was yours on a platter. It was a bet well played, my friend.”
“What bet?”
Hearing the voice behind me, I swung around and saw Jake in the doorway.
For a moment all three Edens in the room were speechless.
Horror tore through me. I’d forgotten Jake was coming in to see my father today.
Oh, God. How much had he overheard?
“This was a bet?” His brows knitted together and he shifted on his feet, looking confused.
I could almost see the cogs turning over in his brain. He was going to misunderstand this.
Slowly, I shook my head. “Jake . . . ”
He closed his
eyes, sucking in a deep breath through his nose before opening them again. “A bet?” he asked with disbelief.
Shame mixed with panic. “Yes,” I whispered.
Fuming, he locked eyes with me and then without another word he walked out.
I went after him and by the time I caught up to him, he was already in the foyer, empty but for the two of us.
“My father wanted to release you from your contract. He said you were done,” I called out to him. I hated saying the words because I could see that they hurt him. His back went rigid, his head dropping slightly and I was filled with an overwhelming need to protect him. “But I didn’t believe that.”
He stopped at the front door and sucked in a deep breath, then taking a step back from the door he turned to face me. “What was the bet?”
I was afraid he was going to ask me that. I didn’t want to tell him. It seemed so cold now—so callous.
When I hesitated, his sharp voice reached for me across the distance between us.
“What was the bet, Z?”
I swallowed hard. Maybe I could make him understand. Maybe I could make this right. But looking across at him and seeing the hurt on his face and the pool of heartache in his eyes, I was pretty sure I would never be able do that. If I had a million years, I still wouldn’t be able to do that. I stepped closer to him but he stepped back, shaking his head.
“I told him I could bring you back. He didn’t think I could,” I said quickly. “He said he was going to let you go. I saw it as my chance to prove myself. To show him that I was good at what I do.”
His eyes closed again—squeezed shut, as if to ward off the pain of my words—and when he opened them again, he couldn’t look at me. His eyes were cast down and he stared at a spot on the ground.
“What did you stand to get out of this?” he asked, his voice broken.
“Jake—”
“Tell me!” he demanded.