Chapter 22
16 Months Ago…
New Orleans, Louisiana is as good a place as any to be spending time on a work trip. I’m here covering the Gators vs. Red Wolves game. The game is highly anticipated because both teams were undefeated during pre-season, and they are playing for the first time very early on this season. Both are coming into this meeting still undefeated. One of them will be leaving the arena with their first loss. Both teams are strong, but Arizona has the edge. Right from the first puck drop, the whole team is fast and aggressive. They set the tone within the first minute when their Captain, Ford Jenson, catches the Gators' goalie off guard with a slick shot to the top corner of the net. The Gators fight back hard, keeping the pressure on, but never manage to score on the team's goalie, Elliot St. Germain, and the Red Wolves spend the game running up the score.
Oren Samuels, the team’s star defenseman, is seemingly everywhere at once. With an amazing move, made to look simple, he snatches the puck from one of New Orlean’s forwards and drives it beyond the crease. Just in time, as if on cue, he is exactly where the team needs him, loosening up the puck and burning it right to the back of the net with a powerful snap. I’ve made my career following hockey, loving the game and being impressed by the player's capabilities, but there is something about Samuels that makes it hard for me to look away. His movements and technique; he plays with a kind of controlled, calculated aggression that is impressive to watch.
Just rewatching the coverage while sitting at the hotel makes me feel like I am back in the action again. I like to finish up the last bit of my work from the bar, with hockey coverage in the back and a drink in my other hand. With my laptop open in front of me, I tap the keyboard furiously as I continue responding to emails that can't wait any longer. I convinced my boss to let me splurge on the hotel for the game, because when in NOLA, you might as well be close to the action. I am right off the French Quarter, and I certainly don't plan to spend the entire night at the hotel bar.
I try to focus, but the noise level in the bar escalates quickly as it starts to fill with Red Wolves team staff, Phoenix fans, and a few locals who’ve stumbled in, captivated by the post-game celebrations. I sip my espresso martini and push through, determined to finish everything before I head up to my room to change. The plan is to head to a nearby bar for some good music and a drink, maybe find someone to spend my night with, and if I'm lucky, I might even have time for some sleep before my flight tomorrow.
But as I sit here, the pull of the atmosphere causes me to glance up from my screen to find the hotel bar now full of Red Wolves players, all living high after the win. My eyes land on Oren Samuels immediately, like a moth to a flame. He’s at the center of everyone’s attention, leaning back in his chair with an easy grin on his face. His freshly shaved buzz cut makes the giant snarling wolf tattoo on the side of his neck stand out even more, his green eyes sparking with leftover adrenaline.
I should stop, close my laptop, and head to my room. Immediately change and leave this hotel for a bar without hockey players. That would be the smartest thing for me to do. There is one line I shouldn’t ever cross, and it’s mixing work and pleasure. But I don’t do the smart thing or follow the plan. I take another sip of my drink, and my resolve weakens. The feeling of someone’s eyes on me, the sense of being studied, causes me to look up from my laptop. I find Oren walking toward me, weaving his way through the people with a confident grin.
“Mind if I join you?” he asks, his voice deep, almost sensual. “It’s about time you stopped working for tonight.”
I take in his looming figure up close andhe’s even more intimidating. The little details are even more impressive, the sharp angle of his jawline and the hint of stubble that makes him look both rugged and harsh. To go along with the large wolf tattoo is the word ‘Mercy’ tattooed at the base of his neck. Hell, if the sight alone isn’t a panty dropper, the way his eyes sparkle like he is up to no good would seal the deal. Everything about Oren Samuels screams danger in a way that makes my skin prickle with awareness.
“Sure,” I reply, keeping my voice steady even though my heart ratchets up a few notches with his proximity.
Oren chuckles as he pulls out the stool beside me, his gaze traveling over me. “So,” his voice drops an octave, equal parts charm, and danger, “how long are you going to pretend that you’re here working and not because you’re waiting for me to come over?”
Laugher bubbles out of me. I can see how Oren gets his reputation, the one known by any attractive woman with a pulse. I raise an eyebrow at him, my eyes traveling lower, taking in the way his shirt is tight on his broad shoulders, the shadow of more tattoos yet to be revealed below the collar. “And what exactly makes you think I’m waiting for you?” I tease, my lips curling into my best smirk.
Oren leans in even more, his breath warm against my ear, his knee brushing against mine, his entire body closer than necessary, but I don’t retreat. “Because you haven’t walked away yet,” he practically purrs. His voice is a dangerous, animalistic whisper that spreads goosebumps over my entire body. I tilt my head slightly, meeting his gaze head-on. “Maybe I’m just curious,” matching his intensity, enjoying the heat between us.
“Curiosity can be dangerous,” his eyes blaze with a challenge. “But it's usually worth it,” he says, his hand brushing lightly up my outer thigh.
I don’t pull away from the second point of contact with his touch. I know I should stop this, get up, and go straight up to my room before I do something monumentally stupid. But there is something intoxicating about the way Oren looks at me.
“What do you say, Rachel?” Oren’s voice is low, his lips inches from mine. “You want to have a little fun with me?”
I lean back, retreating from his closeness, and smile at him seductively. “Oh, I don’t think you can handle it, Samuels.”
“I know I can handle you,” His eyes lock onto mine, sending a thrill straight to my core.
My brain starts to short circuit. I wasn’t planning for him to call me on my bluff. But I refuse to let him see that he’s got me flustered. “Big words,” I counter, hoping that I’m buying myself some time to let my brain catch up before I do something drastic, like jumping this man’s bones in the middle of the hotel bar. “I guess we’ll see. What has you lurking around the hotel bar instead of out having the night of your life on Bourbon Street?”
Oren laughs, a deep, rich sound that settles my nerves. “Actually,” he says, sitting further back on his stool, breaking the contact of his leg on mine. I don’t want to notice it, but I do. “I was planning on doing just that, but then I saw you over here, and I think I would rather get to know you, Rachel Reese.”
I tilt my head, studying him for a moment. “Get to know me?” I ask, feigning skepticism. “Seems like you would have better odds getting to know someone out on Bourbon Street.”
He shrugs, his grin never fading. “Sure. Maybe, I just wanted to flirt with you,” he admits, his tempting tone truthful. “But can you blame me? You’re the most stunning person in the room.”
A blush creeps up my cheeks, so I take a sip of my espresso martini to hide my face. “Flattery, huh? Is that your usual move?”
“Only when it’s true,” he shoots a wink my way, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “You stand out, Rachel. Hard not to notice.”
I chew on my bottom lip. This type of flattery is not something that I am used to. I consider myself attractive, don’t get me wrong, but I’m not everyone’s cup of tea. Certainly, not 6’5 chiseled out of tattooed granite hockey players. Even hockey players aside, I try to fly under the radar on purpose and that usually means unnoticed.
“You’re not exactly easy to miss, Samuels,” I reply. “But if you think you’re going to get what you want on compliments alone, think again.”
“Fair enough,” Oren chuckles, raising his glass in a mock toast. “I’ll make a bet with you. I’ll have you in my bed by the end of the night on compliments alone.”
I clink my glass against his, unable to back down from the challenge. “Good luck with that,” I say. “You’re gonna need it.”
“Well then,” he says, his voice softer now, “I can’t waste any time then.”
He leans forward, hand gripping the leg of my stool, hauling it closer, leaving no space between us. I brace myself for his smooth, practiced line. The kind of absurd come on that you would only hear in a movie or read in a book. The type of line that tells a girl exactly what she wants to hear, not reality. Exactly the type of thing that I’ve heard dozens of players tell women before. But instead, he surprises me.
“You know, I’m not going to feed you some bullshit,” he says, his voice softening just a touch. “ I don’t have girlfriends. I don’t do repeats. The only thing I’m capable of is a one-time thing.”
I blink, caught off guard by his bluntness. There is no pretense in his eyes, no hidden agenda. Just pure honesty. I feel a twinge of annoyance at myself for even engaging. I told myself never to get involved with players, but something about his honesty has me wanting to keep the night going. Actually considering embracing the messy.
“Most guys wouldn’t lead with that, you know,” I say, my voice laced with curiosity.
He shrugs, leaning back in his seat, but his eyes never leave my face. “What’s the point of pretending? I don’t settle down. I’m not gonna act like I’m looking for something I’m not. I like to have fun. A lot of it. But that’s all it is. It’s never gonna be more than that.”
His bold statement hangs in the air. A thrill of excitement and a sharp pang of reality course through me simultaneously. He’s not trying to sell a fantasy or make empty promises. He isn’t selling anything. He is laying it all out for me to make the decision. He is giving me a choice.
My lips curl into a small, amused smile. “So, you’re telling me that one night of you is guaranteed to end in the morning and not become a problem at work?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Oren replies, his voice calm, almost casual. “I might say hey or buy you a beer sometime down the line, but you won't find me chasing you. That’s never gonna change. If settling down is what you’re after, I’m not your guy.”
“And what if I’m not looking for anything more?” I ask, my voice quiet. “What if tonight is enough?”
He smiles, slow and confident. “Then we’re on the same page.”
“I guess let’s see where the night takes us,” I say, letting my words linger in the space between us.
Oren grins wider, that cocky confidence oozing from him. “I already told you tonight is going to end with you in my bed.”
“Confident, aren’t you?” I shoot back, “but confidence and follow-through are two different things, you know.”
Oren closes the small space between us in one swift motion. His lips crash into mine, drawing me in with a hot, urgent kiss. His intensity takes me by surprise, making me gasp against his mouth. My hands grab his shirt, pulling him closer. The second I pull him closer, his arms wrap around my waist, pressing me into him. His tongue brushes against my bottom lip, my body wanting more. The kiss is electrifying, his lips demanding, and all I can do is surrender.
Who cares about the people in the bar or the rules? It’s just Oren and me, the taste of him on my lips, his hands touching me like he’s not planning to let go anytime soon. When we finally come up for air, it's out of necessity. We are both breathless, my heart hammering in my chest. His eyes are dark and stormy, looking at me like he’s really seeing me, like he just knows everything that I need from him. The look is a promise yet to be fulfilled, one that rushes through me, soaking my panties with my desire. The look on his face tells me this is far from over.
“I don’t know why, but I didn’t expect you to follow through,” I whisper, my voice a little shaky from the lust coursing through me.
He grins that infuriatingly sexy grin and his thumb gently brushes across my cheek. “Rookie mistake,” he rasps, his voice rough with desire. “Because I’ve been thinking about doing that for the last 20 minutes.”
A soft laugh escapes me, exhilaration and nervous energy warring within me. “Well,” I say, trying to catch my breath, “I guess you’ve got my attention now.”
Oren leans in, his lips brushing my ear. His hands slide lower, resting on the top of my ass, gripping a handful of my curves as if he’s making it clear this isn’t a fleeting moment. My skin tingles where his fingers touch, and every nerve in my body feels alive.
“Good,” the single word sends me into overdrive. “Because we are just getting started.”