Power Play (D.C. Stars #2)

21. Liam

TWENTY-ONE

LIAM

I’ve always hated the holiday charity gala the Stars put on.

Every year, two and a half weeks before Christmas, I’m stuck standing at the bar in a fancy hotel, miserable as I sip a seltzer with lime because I have a game the next day.

There are too many people. Too many handshakes and conversations about what I could’ve done better in the last game, as if Joe Robertson, the season ticket holder with the beer belly who has never stepped foot on the ice, is someone I should take advice from.

It’s also loud as fuck in here.

“Hey.” Hudson nudges my side and I blink at him. “Are you ready for the auction?”

“No.”

“Same. I really hate this part of the night.”

“So do I,” I grumble under my breath. “Can’t I write a fucking check instead? I don’t need soccer moms fighting over me.”

“At least they revamped it. Remember when the prize was an outing at a place of the highest bidder’s choosing? Now it’s a night in the arena with all the players, a nice dinner, and no opportunity for any extracurricular activities.”

“Still can’t believe that guy pinned Riley to the wall, licked his ear, asked if he could pee on him, then took his dick out before Riley could answer. I’m not one to kink-shame, but that kind of shit is vile without consent.”

“Almost as bad as the fan clubs at away games.” Hudson laughs. “Did you bring anyone tonight?”

“You know the answer to that.”

“Right. Single Sullivan. Just the way you like it.”

“Did you?”

“Yeah. Her name is Alyssa. I started seeing her a couple months ago, and things are going well. I like her a lot, man.”

Hudson is different from any other athlete I’ve met. He’s rarely aggressive on the ice, and that tenderheartedness you see when you interact with him is genuine.

He’s a nice fucking guy. A total empath, he loves things deeply: his dogs. His friends. His family back home in Georgia.

He’s also a hopeless romantic.

Has been from the day he first introduced himself to me. He believes in fairytales and happily ever afters. Love at first sight and all that other bullshit. A serious relationship-ist, he’s someone who dates with the purpose of having a future with a woman and has never had a one-night stand.

I think he’d pass out if someone slept with him and snuck out without contacting him again.

“Happy for you, Hud.”

“Thanks.” He points through the crowd. “There she is.”

I look in the general direction of where he’s gesturing. Before I can figure out if he’s talking about the brunette or the redheaded woman, a flash of blonde catches my eye. I turn my head half a degree to the right and there, directly across the ballroom, is Piper, looking right at me.

It’s the first time I’m seeing her tonight, and it’s a punch to the gut.

Her silver dress hugs her curves and her hair flows down her back like ribbons of sunshine. When she reaches to set her glass down on a server’s tray, my heart nearly skips a beat.

The back of the dress is even better than the front, complete with a low dip in the material that shows off so much fucking skin.

She’s beautiful.

Show-stopping, and I’m practically gawking.

My throat goes dry. When she smiles at me, big and bright and fucking devastatingly, I shove my straw in my mouth and take a long sip of my drink, wishing it were something stronger.

I’m not looking at her like she’s my friend.

I’m not looking at her as a man who has his priorities sorted out and isn’t interested in anything serious.

I’m looking at her like my heart is about to flatline. Like I’m close to meeting my end, and this is the first time in my life I’ve ever regretted being a professional athlete.

If I was a doctor or a teacher or fucking anything besides a star goalie paid millions of dollars to be damn good at my job, I’d take her out on a date. I’d woo her and show her how a man should treat her inside and outside a bedroom.

But I’m not.

So I lift my hand in a pathetic wave instead. Her eyes bounce to the empty spot to my left and I nod, inviting her over.

“Hey.” Hudson nudges my side. I blink and snap out of my trance. “You okay?”

“ Great ,” I grunt. “I’m great.”

“I’m going to steal my date back. I’ll catch up with you later?”

“Yup. Sounds good.”

I have no clue what I’m agreeing to. I’m too distracted by the sway of Piper’s hips. The plunging neckline of her dress and the necklace resting between her cleavage. Heels that give her added height and the bright red lipstick painted on her mouth.

I want to smear it with my thumb.

I want it on my cock, a souvenir from fucking her throat and making her swallow.

My fingers grip my glass so tightly, I don’t know how it doesn’t shatter.

The whole outfit is sinful.

Goddamn indecent, honestly, and knowing what’s underneath those thin straps and silky material is a hazard to my health.

Every man in the room watches her as she moves toward me like some sort of goddess. Even my teammates do a double take. I want to break Grant’s neck for how long he stares at her, but I’m no better.

“Hey,” she says when she gets close, and I wish she had stayed away.

I wish I hadn’t spotted her, because now that I have, I smell her perfume. I see the dark blue makeup on her eyelids. I feel the heat radiating from her, and I don’t fucking know why I want to curl up beside her in my bed and keep her there.

My crush on her has only gotten worse now that I know what she sounds like when she comes. The moans she lets out when I touch her clit and the way her toes curl when I pinch her nipples nice and hard.

Piper Mitchell is under my skin, and the next time I touch her, I won’t be so nice.

“Pipsqueak,” I say, clawing for any sort of normalcy.

“How’s your night?”

“How do you think it is?”

She tilts her head to the side and assesses me. “Miserable, by the looks of it. Could you just—” Her fingers touch the edge of my mouth, lifting it up in a fake smile, and she grins. “There we go. Much better.”

“Don’t make me look too approachable. I can’t stand another thirty-minute lecture from a guy who played in a beer league twenty years ago and thinks he’s qualified to give out unsolicited advice about my technique.”

“Come on, Liam. Surely you know his years playing Sunday rec games far outweigh your experience in the NHL. You should definitely listen to him.”

I snort. “I’d rather listen to the pointers Grant tries to give me. At least he knows the rules about high-sticking.”

“I almost feel bad for the person who bids on Grant at the auction and wins. They’re going to have to deal with his restless energy for hours.”

“Don’t remind me about the auction.”

“Oh, no. Have you had a bad experience? I think the whole idea is ridiculous, to be honest. If we were doing this with women, people would be outraged. But with hot guys who play hockey, it’s okay? Talk about a double standard.”

“Wow.” My lips twitch. “You think I’m hot?”

“How is that the only thing you heard out of that whole speech?” She puts her hands on her hips, and I wonder if she’s wearing underwear. There’s no way she could be with how tight her dress is on her skin. “Are you even listening to me?”

“Course I am. You’re talking about hockey, right?”

“You’re not funny.”

“Then why are you smiling?”

Piper huffs and leans against the bar next to me. “I’m not smiling.”

“Kind of looks like you are.”

“Seems like my pink blazer did more damage to your eyes than I thought. Why don’t the guys bid on each other? Seems like the logical way to make sure no one ends up with a creep.”

“Management doesn’t allow it. Someone else has to make the bid: a season ticket holder. A kid with their parents’ credit card. Figured next year I could come down with the stomach bug and avoid the whole thing altogether.”

“That’s a good plan to have.” Her laugh is light, and she waves at someone across the ballroom. “I should mingle. I’ll see you after the auction?”

“If I don’t poke out my eyeballs first.”

“Good.” She heads to a group of people hanging out near the bar on the left side of the ballroom. “Hang in there, Liam.”

I do my best to not watch her ass as she walks away, and I fail fucking miserably.

My hands are sweaty.

The lights are so goddamn bright, and I wish I’d ditched my jacket before climbing up on stage.

“Next up is Liam Sullivan,” the emcee announces. My name echoes out to the crowd, and everyone cheers. I give them a grimace and a wave. It’s far from the flashy charisma my teammates showed up here, but I’m doing my fucking best. They’re lucky I didn’t bolt when Emmy forked over forty thousand dollars to win the bid on Ethan to piss off Maverick. “The opening bid is going to start at five thousand dollars.”

“Five thousand,” a man in the audience calls out, and I play with my cufflinks.

“Six thousand?”

“Six,” another deep voice says.

“Seven thousand?”

“Seven,” someone chimes in, and I shade my eyes with my hand, trying to spot the woman who entered the bid.

I find her in the front row with a group of girls. When she holds up her champagne glass, I can’t control the way my lips twist in an unfriendly way.

“Seven,” the emcee repeats. “It’s time to make this interesting. Ten thousand dollars?”

“Ten,” the first man says.

“Eleven,” the woman adds, and I wipe my hands on my slacks.

“Twelve,” a new voice adds.

It’s one I recognize, and I whip my head to the right, surprised to see Piper holding a paddle, her arms crossed over her chest.

A slow grin forms on my mouth. There’s determination in her gaze. Razor sharpness to her posture and a steel tint in her tone I’ve never heard from her before.

You have to be assertive to work in her industry. Piper’s shown her scrappiness when she’s trying to wrangle someone into the media room. The change in her voice when she’s talking to a man who considers themselves superior to her just because she’s a woman.

I’ve never seen her like this, though.

Ruthless. Like she’s waiting to attack, and I fucking like it.

“Thirteen,” the first woman says, flipping her hair over her shoulder like this is a walk in the park.

Piper scowls. “Twenty thousand.”

The audience whoops and hollers, getting into it. The two women go back and forth, and it’s like I’m watching a tennis match. When the bid reaches thirty-five thousand, I have no clue who’s going to give up first.

“Thirty-six?” the emcee asks the woman in the front row.

She consults her friends, having a hushed conversation before shaking her head.

“Sold to the feisty blonde on stage left,” the emcee announces, and relief floods through me.

I practically run off the stage, eager to get out of the spotlight. I push through the hordes of people and ignore some of the guys trying to get my attention. When I finally reach Piper, I’m almost out of breath.

“What the hell was that?” I ask.

“I overheard that woman talking to her friends in the bathroom, and I didn’t like what she said about you.” Piper swirls her drink and scowls. “I’m all for women supporting women, but not when they’re being bitches and describing how they’d use you for the night.”

“Sticking up for me, Mitchell?”

“Yeah. I am.” She lifts her head defiantly. “You’re my friend, and I’m not going to let people have their way with you.”

“I wouldn’t have given her any attention if she won.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t think my fake girlfriend would’ve liked that very much, and it doesn’t feel right to smile at someone else when I’m too busy thinking about what you sound like when you come.”

Piper’s inhale is sharp. “You know exactly what I sound like when I come.”

“Trust me, Piper. I listen to it on repeat.”

“Yeah, well, I think about you jerking off on repeat.”

“Fuck waiting until the end of the month. Come home with me tonight. I owe you a lesson.”

“Are you sure? You have a game tomorrow.” The tension between us magnifies when she takes a step toward me. To anyone passing, we’re two people in deep conversation, but we both know the last thing we’re going to do when we leave is talk. “I don’t want to mess up your routine.”

“Turns out, I’ve been playing some pretty fantastic hockey since I kissed you the first time.”

“I guess we shouldn’t mess with fate then, should we? Shucks, looks like I’ll have to go home with you and get off on your couch again.”

A laugh whooshes out of me. “Sorry for your trouble. You ready to head out?”

“I was ready the minute you sent me that text message a damn week ago. Are you ready to head out? I’d hate for you to miss all the excitement here.”

I level her with a look. “I’ve wanted to bend you over the bathroom sink since I saw you tonight. The only excitement I want is your tight cunt. Let’s go.” I head for the exit then stop to look over my shoulder. “Do you have thirty-five thousand dollars?”

“No.” Piper grins and saunters toward me. She’s a vision of pure fucking sex and a test of my patience. “But you do.”

“Using my money, Mitchell?”

“Protecting you, Sullivan. There’s a difference. And look. Now you get to see me naked. I’d say it paid off in the end.”

I match her grin. “Protect me all you want, Pipsqueak. I like it when you defend my honor, but I’m going to like it even more when you say my name when you come.”