Triple Power Play (Obsessed Players Club #1)

7. Ethan

SEVEN

ETHAN

I lean against the bar and sip an Old Fashioned while keeping an eye on Aurora. I remind myself she’s only in my life for one night. I have no right to be protective of her.

She responds to Jackson’s barely veiled anger with nervousness and fear, and a nagging unease comes over me.

LA’s hockey icon isn’t the golden boy everyone believes.

The blonde beside me eyes me curiously, traces my gaze, and tosses her hair over her shoulder. “What the fuck is that asshole doing now?”

“Trying to figure that out myself. You know them?”

“You could say that.” Her tone is sticky-sweet, and she appraises me as if I’m a piece of meat. Puck bunny.

“I’m guessing they used to date?” I take another swig of my drink, feigning nonchalance.

“Yup, and the manipulative man-child doesn’t tolerate rejection.”

A guy next to her bumps his shoulder into hers. “Hey, no talking about my captain. Those are the rules.”

He’s on the team, but without making it obvious, I’m unsure who. I do, however, make a mental note of everything said.

“The rules don’t apply when my roommate is involved.”

“Your roommate is going to fuck up our season.”

She scoffs. “Not my roommate’s fault your captain can’t stay sober. Have fun carrying him out of here tonight.”

From a coaching perspective, there’s a wealth of information to process regarding Jackson. It’s not unusual for a player to struggle with substance use. I’ve seen it among my own teammates and players.

Still, Jackson’s behavior is immature and unacceptable, bordering on abusive.

I was dead wrong to think Aurora was unworthy of his attention. He’s the one who’s undeserving of her.

And why doesn’t anyone stop him? Has his conduct been swept under the rug because of his performance on the ice?

That’s about to end.

Aurora tosses me an anxious, apologetic look. I’ve noticed she does that—sends glances my way to gauge my mood or seek approval. It makes sense if she’s been dealing with an asshole with a drinking problem. Explains why she remains quiet when I’m not actively engaging with her. Why invite trouble? Her life has been unpredictable.

She’s also naturally submissive—precisely my type.

Mr. Blackwood. Jesus, my dick twitched when she said that.

I leave my unfinished drink on the bar. With dinner concluded and plates being cleared to prepare for tonight’s entertainment, people are milling about in the aisles. It makes it easy to blend in while eavesdropping on Jackson and Aurora’s conversation.

“I meant it when I gave you the penthouse,” he says. “You could come home. I’ll pay for whatever you need.”

Home . They lived together.

“I moved out after you didn’t return my calls or texts for two weeks. My grandmother was in the hospital. You have no idea what I went through.”

“I’m fucking sorry. I’d take it all back if I could, you know that.”

His despair is painful to listen to. I nearly empathize with him.

“But you can’t , and you haven’t changed. Now please, Jax, leave me alone.”

Aurora’s pleading has my patience wearing thin. He’s wasting his time begging for a second chance while he’s tipsy.

“Why? So you can get paid to fuck someone else?” he snarls.

Typical immature bullshit. His desperation has turned to anger, and I’ve reached my limit. My dominant instincts take over, urging me to protect her from his toxic behavior.

I step out in front of them. “All right, Jackson, enough.”

He squints. His reaction time is slow, and his eyes are glazed.

I reach out to Aurora. “Come here.”

A sense of victory comes over me when she obeys, taking my offered hand and sliding out of the seat.

Jackson’s left alone at the table. His jaw sets, and his nostrils flare. A shadow passes over his gaze, and I get another glimpse of the rage hiding inside the body of a hockey legend.

He emerges from the booth and towers over Aurora with aggression. She visibly trembles, and I encircle her waist with a protective arm. His dark glare fixates on me, and if looks could kill, I’d be slaughtered.

He’s almost my height, but I’m bulkier. He doesn’t stand a chance intoxicated. Maybe sober, he could hold his own, but not right now.

“Nice to meet you, Ethan Blackwood .” His words are meant to sound threatening, but with his slightly slurred speech, it’s anything but.

I gesture for Aurora to sit, and then I face him. “We’ll see each other again, Jackson. I guarantee it.”

He holds my stare. “I’m sure we will.”

Without taking my eyes off him, I slide into the booth, and he storms off toward the bar, where a few players are gawking.

Aurora places her hands on her chest. “I’m sorry. I?—”

Her voice cracks, and the instinct to care for her comes over me again.

“Don’t apologize for him.” A bucket of champagne and a pitcher of water now sit in the middle of our table, our dishes cleared away. I pour her a glass of water and set it in front of her. “Drink. Relax. I’m not upset with you, and I want tonight to last.”

With a soft, “Thank you,” she brings the glass to her kissable lips.

She’s all I’d ever need in a woman. Sincere. Appreciative. Obedient. Needy .

The lights dim to signal the evening entertainment, and I draw Aurora closer, pulling her between my legs and wrapping my arms around her. “Just breathe. Okay?”

She settles into me, resting her head on my shoulder.

Our connection is palpable, blurring the lines between right and wrong. I want to protect and care for her. I’ve never wanted that with another person, but I know I want it with her.

Shit, that sounds crazy, but I’m inexplicably drawn to her. She fits perfectly with my jagged edges.

We wait for everyone to take their seats, and I tackle the elephant in the room. “You dated Jackson O’Reilly? That’s impressive.”

Eyes the color of whiskey gaze back at me. “It’s impressive I survived, nothing more.”

“How did you meet him?” I run my hands over her bare arms. Jesus, her skin is soft.

She leans into me and sighs. “At a season opener party. I was on a date with another player.”

“And let me guess? He saw the most beautiful woman with someone else and had to have her?”

She snorts. “Pretty much.”

“Then what? Something happened? He didn’t get his way and took off?”

Her ribs expand with a big breath. “My grandfather died, and my grandmother had a stroke.”

“Fuck. I’m sorry. That’s awful.” I tighten my arms around her, resisting the urge to kiss the top of her head. “He couldn’t handle it, huh?”

“He couldn’t handle not partying. He couldn’t handle my sadness. He couldn’t handle me getting a job to pay for a nursing home and medical bills.”

He couldn’t handle growing up.

I can’t think of anything else to say except, “His last contract was thirty million, baby. He can afford a nursing home.”

“He can…if I let him. But then I’d be trapped.”

Her response blows me away. “Smart girl.”

“He’s not all bad. You just never know which Jackson you’re going to get. Might be the one who shuts down Santa Monica Pier for a date. Or it might be the one who punches a hole in the wall, only to spend all night placing hundreds of sticky notes on every surface saying he’s sorry.”

I don’t miss how she still defends him.

“You’re incredible and don’t deserve to be treated that way.” I give in to temptation and kiss her temple. “I caught my wife fucking a colleague in our home. I have no idea how long it’s been going on.”

She peers up at me in surprise, her wide eyes sparkling in the dim light.

I run a finger along the delicate curve of her neck. “I still wear the ring because I don’t want her to suspect I’m leaving until I’m already gone.”

Her brows raise. “Ah, your wife is certifiably insane.”

She’s sincere, not a hint of lip service. Maybe that’s why I find myself opening up to her and foolishly longing to take things further.

I’ll never have this chance, this night, again, and I refuse to waste it.

I glance down at her pouty lips. “You’re fucking beautiful.”

She kisses my neck in response, and my cock thickens, pressing hard against my zipper.

The first band takes the stage, and I can’t stop touching her. I pray to everything holy that the darkness conceals us.

But when I scan the room, I catch Jackson’s furious gaze, only fueling my dominant and competitive nature.

I smirk and jut my chin. Coaching that spoiled brat will be the most fun I’ve had in years.