The Faker: A Marriage of Convenience Hockey Romance (Boston Hawks Hockey)

by Gina Azzi

  My eyes snap back to his and my mouth drops open. How did I not know his birthday? We filled out so much paperwork that clearly stated both of our birthdates and oh my God—“I’m the worst wife ever.”

  Torsten laughs and shakes his head. “Don’t worry about, it’s not something I advertise. I mean, I’m getting close to the big four-oh.”

  My cheeks blaze and I wring my hands together. After everything this man has done for me, I forgot his birthday. “Torsten, I feel awful. Wait, you have to let me—”

  “Ri, it’s not a big deal. You want to do something nice for me?”

  I nod, biting my bottom lip.

  “Come to Taps tomorrow.”

  “Of course I’ll be there.”

  “And do me one favor?” He turns those pale blue eyes on mine, silently begging for me to say yes.

  As if I’d say anything else in this moment. “Whatever you want.”

  “Oh, I like the sound of that,” he jokes, pushing off the countertop. He closes the space between us and wraps his arms around my back, caging me in between his arms. It’s the closest we’ve been behind closed doors since the wedding night debacle. Automatically, my heart rate speeds up and hopeful me does a sexy shimmy, hating that rational me has been cockblocking her for weeks now.

  I glance up at him and he catches the ends of my hair, playing with the strands.

  “There’s one thing I want for my birthday,” he murmurs, his voice a hell of a lot lower, deeper, than it was when he was standing over by the sink.

  I swallow thickly and watch as his eyes cloud over. I shuffle the tiniest bit closer to Torsten, loving the way his arms feel around me. I’m drawn to him and I want him and a part of me hates myself for putting so much distance between us that didn’t need to be there.

  “What is it?” I manage to ask, my voice breathy.

  A smile rolls over his face, slow and languid, like a spring breeze. He narrows his eyes and quickly drops a peck to my cheek before dropping his hold and backing away. “You’ll see tomorrow. Just remember, you promised to say yes.”

  “What?”

  “I gotta head to the arena now. Have a great last shift, Ri.”

  I stay in the kitchen until the apartment door closes. Even after Torsten’s gone, my heart races, my skin tingles, and I wish that he’d kissed me like he did that first night, when I didn’t have to keep my feelings locked down. Although right now, I debate how good of a job I am keeping those feelings secret. Because to anyone paying even a tiny bit of attention, it’s pretty obvious that I’m smitten with my husband.

  “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow” rings out loudly as Torsten’s teammates pound on tabletops and whistle loudly.

  “Happy birthday, Big Daddy!” Claire cheers, approaching the table with two pitchers of beer.

  Behind her, I balance a tray of Patron shots on my hand and a few of the guys groan.

  “Just one shot! For his birthday,” I tell them.

  They all acquiesce, knowing Torsten is the king of shots. No one, save for Indy, is getting out of the back room of Taps without downing at least one tequila shot. I pass out the glasses and when I set one down in front of Torsten, he catches my wrist and tugs until I’m perched in his lap.

  I don’t know if it’s because it’s his birthday and he’s feeling playful, or if he wants to put on a show in front of his teammates, or if he really just wants me in his lap, but I don’t protest. At all. In fact, I shimmy my ass until it’s pressed against his groin and lean back against the muscled planes of his chest.

  The whistles ring out around us but I don’t care. Across the table, one of Torsten’s teammates, James, watches me curiously. As soon as I make eye contact, he averts his gaze. But I can’t think too much about it because in the next moment, the team chant has shifted.

  “Kiss her! Kiss her!” These brawny hockey players demand like little boys.

  Claire’s mouth drops open but she joins the chant, my traitorous best friend. Indy cracks up, one hand covering her mouth, the other resting on her baby bump.

  Torsten shifts behind me, his hand covers my thigh, and he leans forward. “Guys, guys. Simmer down. Ri and I—” he tries to formulate a response that will let us graciously bow out of a public smooch.

  But after getting married, a little kiss isn’t going to stand in the way of showing everyone what we want, what we need, them to believe. Besides, I’d be lying my ass off if I said I didn’t actually want to kiss Torsten. As if it hasn’t been the only thing I’ve been fantasizing about for the past week. Well, not the only thing but…

  I turn into him until my breasts drag across his chest. His eyes widen in surprise but the corners of his mouth curl upwards. Before he can say anything, I kiss him. I kiss him hard. Boldly. With certainty. As if I belong to him and he belongs to me.

  Torsten’s hands wrap around my upper arms and hold me steady as I deepen the kiss, slanting my mouth over his and pressing against him. He leans back, his one hand cupping my cheek as his tongue demands more from mine. For a second, we duel for command but at the same time, we both settle into the moment, our tongues touching, our hearts racing, and our bodies melting together.

  “Get a room!” Panda shouts, throwing straw wrappers at us.

  I laugh and pull back, noting the surprise mixed with wonder in Torsten’s eyes. He definitely wasn’t expecting that. To be honest, neither was I. I could play it off as a birthday kiss, or wanting to show his team that we’re for real, but I don’t want to lie. I want to be honest with him and admit that I want to give him a thousand more kisses. That I’m starting to fall for his easygoing charm and big heart. I keep holding myself back because I already know that when we divorce, it will gut me. But what if it never comes to that? What if Torsten and I find a way to make our marriage real? What if he wants what I want?

  I shoot him a grin and turn back to the table. Claire’s eyebrows are up in her hairline and Indy’s mouth has dropped open. “Birthday shots!” I remind everyone, shifting the attention back to the reason we’re all here.

  It works and in the next minute, we’re cheersing to Torsten’s good health and tossing back tequila. It burns and warms on the way down and I snuggle back up against Torsten’s body, realizing there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.

  We stay at Taps for another hour, everyone laughing and joking and celebrating the birthday boy. But since the Hawks have a game tomorrow, Austin claps his hands and calls the night early. On her way out the door, Claire turns to glance at me over her shoulder. She holds her hand to her ear in the symbol of a phone and shakes it, letting me know she knows that kiss was for real, and we are most definitely going to talk about it.

  I grin and nod at her, feeling too giddy to be ashamed.

  Torsten slips his hand in mine and links our fingers together as we leave Taps and walk to his car. Even after we’re away from prying eyes, he holds my hand and a warm thrill shoots through me.

  We drive back to his place and he glances at me from the corner of his eye. “You have fun tonight?”

  I nod. “Happy birthday, Torst.”

  “I’m an old man, Ri.”

  “You’re a sexy man,” I tell him, taking a big step out on the limb I’m desperate to run across.

  He licks his lips, a cocky smirk glancing off his mouth. “You think I’m sexy?”

  I snort, turning to glance out the window so he won’t see me blush.

  We park at his building and take the elevator up to the penthouse. When we cross the threshold, I hold up one finger. “Hold up, I have something for you.” I dart to my room to retrieve the gift I bought him this morning. Even though it took a sizable chunk out of my photography course savings, I didn’t think twice about buying it.

  When I enter the living room, his eyes widen as he takes in the wrapped present held between my hands.

  “You got me a gift?” he asks the obvious and I nod, passing it to him.

  “Happy birthday.”

  “Sweetheart”�
��he turns the package over in his hands—“you didn’t have to do this, Ri.”

  “You don’t even know what it is. You might hate it.”

  He gives me a look and unwraps the present. He breathes in sharply as he studies the delicate cuff links. They’re hockey sticks, crossed at the center. Nothing fancy, just sterling silver, but when I saw them, they reminded me of him. “Rielle, you didn’t have to buy me anything. This, being with you right now on my birthday, is more than enough.”

  I wave a hand dismissively. “It’s nothing. I thought maybe you could wear them for your away games. Know I’m with you even if I’m not physically with you.”

  “It’s not nothing. It’s thoughtful,” he murmurs, his eyes catching mine. “Thank you.” His voice is sincere and it warms my chest.

  I smile and take a step closer.

  He sets down my present and reaches onto the couch for something. “Close your eyes.”

  “Wait, what?”

  He lifts an eyebrow at me. “You promised.”

  Yesterday’s conversation comes back to me and I laugh, closing my eyes like he requested.

  “Hold out your hands.”

  I do as he says, wondering what he’s up to.

  He places something in my hands. It’s heavier than I expected.

  “Open them.”

  I open my eyes and glance down at a brand new DSLR camera. I gasp, “Torsten!”

  He watches me closely. “Do you like it?”

  “I love it. Are you crazy? This costs a—”

  “Your photography course starts in a week. You need a camera for it.”

  My mouth drops open. “This is too much,” I protest, trying to give the camera back to him.

  He holds up his hands and shakes his head. “No way. You promised, babe. This is what I want for my birthday.”

  “To give someone else a gift?” I ask, both overwhelmed by his generosity and so freaking touched by the thoughtfulness behind it.

  “To see you do something you love,” he clarifies.

  I place the camera down and step in between his thighs, where he’s seated on the armrest of the couch. Hesitantly, my hands lift and rest on the tops of his shoulders. “It’s still too much.”

  “Trust me, the things I want for you…” He shakes his head. “This is nothing.”

  “Torsten,” I murmur, unsure what I want to say next.

  His hands find my hips and settle there. “That kiss at Taps, was it for real, Rielle?”

  The moment of truth. I hesitate and his eyes begin to shudder closed.

  “It was for real,” I rush to explain.

  Torsten’s head snaps up and his eyes bore into mine, colored in hope and skepticism.

  I wince at the mixed messages I’ve been sending, seeing the uncertainty in his gaze.

  “I’ve wanted to kiss you for weeks. Since before we even got married,” I admit, laughing lightly. But Torsten’s features are locked down. His hands grip me a little tighter but he doesn’t say anything so I continue. “I don’t know how to do this with you and not end up hurt or worse, hurting you,” I whisper, licking my bottom lip.

  “You think me hurting would be worse than you hurting?” he murmurs.

  I nod.

  Torsten’s expression softens, the tenderness I recall from our first night together swelling in his eyes. It’s so honest, so brave, that I shuffle even closer.

  His hand moves up my body, cupping my cheek. He stares into my eyes, and for a beat, we have an entire conversation without any words. It’s as if we’re standing on a cliff and we both know that if we take this step, we’re going to tumble over the edge. We just don’t know how far the fall is or what perils wait for us when we land.

  I lick my bottom lip in anticipation, in nerves, in want.

  Slowly, Torsten closes the space between our mouths. I meet him halfway.

  And when our lips finally touch, we kiss each other like it’s both the first time and like we’ve been doing it for decades. It’s heady, pulling me under completely. But it’s also hesitant, a testing of the waters rather than a losing of control.

  Torsten is the first to pull away and the emotion in his eyes crashes over me like a wave. He searches my eyes, looking for confirmation. I lean forward and press my lips to his, letting him know that I want this. I want him. We jump off the cliff and freefall.

  Torsten lifts me and I wrap my legs around his hips. He walks us slowly to his bedroom, stopping when we’re in the doorframe. His hips pin mine to the wall, his hands wrapped around the backs of my thighs, supporting my weight. He pulls back slightly, his eyes finding mine. “I don’t want to rush anything with you, Ri. I don’t want you to feel confused about me, about us. I respect the hell out of you, sweetheart.”

  His words are extra reassurances I appreciate, but don’t need. Because I already made up my mind tonight, watching him at Taps. “I want to try with you, Torsten. Me and you, for real.”

  His eyes widen and drop to my lips before slamming back into mine. “You sure, Ri? Because once you’re mine…I won’t just let you go.”

  My heart is racing. It’s beating so loudly, I’m sure he can hear it. My legs start to tremble and my fingers dig into his shoulders to steady myself. “Promise?”

  He doesn’t respond because his restraint slips at my response. Torsten’s lips crash over mine. He kisses me fiercely, with a hint of possessiveness that wasn’t there before. I revel in it, meeting him kiss for kiss as he jerks us away from the doorframe and relocates us to his bed.

  I flop down in the center of his mattress, shimmying out of my jeans and whipping my sweater over my head. Torsten quickly loses his clothes too. His body covers mine and he pauses. He hovers over me, our eyes meeting and holding. Torsten slowly lowers his face and I lift my chin. Our mouths touch again and this time, our kiss is slow. It’s deep and sensual and causes a swell of emotion to trail through my limbs and a rush of heat to flow between my legs.

  My hands track the planes of his back, grazing over his rippling muscles, and pulling him closer. He explores my body like it’s a marvel, his fingers and mouth touching every inch of my skin. We lose ourselves in each other, in this moment, touching and tasting, reveling and cherishing. When Torsten shifts away to grab a condom from his bedside table, I clasp his wrist and shake my head.

  “I’m on the pill.”

  He freezes, his eyes drinking me in. “Sweetheart, are you—”

  “I’m sure, Torst.”

  He inches closer to me, his hand brushing my hair away from my face, his fingers grazing the curve of my shoulder. “I’m clean, sweetheart. I’ve never not used a condom.”

  “Me too. And I haven’t either,” I reassure him. I’ve always been safe. I’ve never let myself get this emotionally involved with anyone before and it feels different. All the physical acts of pleasure feel deeper, more, now that I’m emotionally invested.

  Torsten’s hands cup my face and he kisses me reverently, guiding my head back to the pillows. He kisses me like he’ll never get enough as he slides inside of me. I gasp as he fills me, my hands clenching at his ribs. He pulls back and watches me, his gaze intense, as our bodies join together.

  When he’s in all the way, he stills, and the sound of our breathing fills the air.

  “You mean everything to me, Ri,” he murmurs, starting to move.

  I groan as he drags out of me slowly before pushing back in. My body stretches to accommodate him, and delicious sensations rock through me. “Don’t stop, Torst,” I gasp as everything tightens. He sets a steady pace and slowly, pressure builds and my limbs tighten. My toes curl and my back arches off the bed. “Torsten!” I shatter around him, having the most intense orgasm of my life.

  Torsten rides my pleasure, his eyes boring into mine.

  I grasp his face, looking straight at him as I admit, “I’m falling for you, Torst.”

  He swears and pumps into me faster, setting a relentless pace, until he gasps out my name and collapses on
top of me.

  I hug him close as he begins to soften inside of me. Our ragged breathing settles and Torsten slips out of me, curling his body protectively around mine. He tucks some of my hair behind my ear. His thumb drags along my lower lip, tracing my features. I turn to stare at him, feeling sated and relaxed and deliriously happy.

  He smiles at me, leaning forward to kiss me deeply.

  “I’ve been falling for you for a long time, Ri.”

  I smile back. “You think we can do this?”

  He nods, pulling his duvet cover over our naked bodies. “Yeah. We take it one day at a time.”

  “Okay,” I agree, pressing a quick peck to his mouth.

  “Okay,” he says, pulling me back until I rest against his chest. He wraps his arm around my middle and links our fingers together.

  I snuggle into his warmth.

  “Best birthday of my life,” he murmurs in my ear.

  I chuckle, wiggling my ass against him. “You really are old,” I joke.

  He pinches my side and I giggle. Slowly, sleep falls over us and I close my eyes, finally feeling like I found my home.

  14

  Torsten

  “Mr. Hansen, we’re so grateful you wanted to come in to meet with us.” Josh Hendrix, the grandson of John Hendrix, founder of Hendrix Marketing, shakes my hand enthusiastically.

  “Thanks for having me,” I say, offering him a grin.

  We take a seat at a conference room table as Josh introduces me to a handful of men, one of them being Stu Sanders. Bingo. It figures there’s not a woman in the room. I lean back in my chair and study each of the men. “Tell me about the vodka.”

  “We’re really enthusiastic about working with Saint Vodka and love the idea of having athletes, such as yourself, represent the brand.” Josh launches into his sales pitch, telling me all about Saint, about Hendrix’s marketing vision, about shooting a commercial, yada, yada.

  But my focus is trained on Stu Sanders, who must pick up on my vibe, because about a third of the way into Josh’s little speech, Stu starts shooting me worried looks.