Chapter 2
2
Jack
I was bored.
These days, boredom was my constant companion. People were all the same—easily read and manipulated. Classes no longer felt challenging, especially because my professors gave me automatic A’s for playing on the Kings. Coach said I was too smart for my own good.
The only thing that kept my interest was being on the ice, and even that was starting to feel mundane. Usually, the feeling of being a well-oiled machine with my team, the moment my stick touched the puck, outmaneuvering my opponents, winning …all of it made me feel alive.
But now it didn’t. It felt like the world was muted, quiet, almost still…like my world was waiting for something.
“Feldman, you asshole. What are you brooding about?” Judah nudged my shoulder with his cold can of beer, not bothering to lower his voice.
I glanced at one of the Kings’ two defensemen. Judah—and his stupid man bun—was a pain in my ass, because he always spoke his mind without tact or care for who else might be listening. He was a loud dick and most people, including his professors, thought he was an idiot—that his twin, Levi, had all the brains. Judah liked it that way. The fucker was secretly insightful, which sometimes I was grateful for.
Not now though.
I glanced at him. “Not brooding.”
He snorted. “Sure.”
“Jack doesn’t brood, he plots.” Levi rolled his eyes at his brother.
“Same fucking difference,” Judah said. “You think you know more than me because of those stupid glasses you barely need.”
“And you think you’re prettier than me because of that ridiculous hair,” Levi countered.
Before they could squabble more, Marnie sidled up to us.
“Who plots?” she asked as she placed her hand on me, red nails gleaming in the kitchen’s light. I’d fucked her a few times, and we were friends, but I didn’t want her near me.
Gently lifting her hand off my shoulder, I smiled down at her. “No one, sweetheart.”
This time, Isaac interceded. The flirt put a hand around Marnie’s waist, pulling her toward him. “C’mon gorgeous, let’s shake our booties on the dance floor.”
Giggling, Marnie leaned into him. Isaac and I exchanged a look, me expressing my gratitude and Isaac accepting it. Isaac was known as a player—even more than me—but the four of us knew the truth: sometimes he took one for the team.
So to speak .
“You obvious asshole,” Judah said. “Sending Dr. Dimples off to do your dirty work.”
I laughed, lifting my beer to my lips—and froze.
Someone was staring at me. Not unfamiliar; people stared a lot. It came with the territory, and I didn’t mind.
This felt different. My back almost burned from their gaze on me, and some instinct I didn’t understand warned me to ignore them. Like if I turned around, everything would change.
So I turned around.
And saw her.
And suddenly, all the boredom and fucking ennui I’d been feeling for so long disappeared as if it never existed. I inhaled sharply, like someone had slammed me into the boards.
Her curly brown hair with glints of red was down, falling over bare arms. She wore a tight, sleeveless black turtleneck and a tiny black skirt, both emphasizing a round stomach and soft, rolling curves I could and would happily get lost in. Some guys might call her fat. I’d beat up every fucking one of them. Because I didn’t care how she was labeled—to me, she was a stunning, gorgeous goddess. Period.
Thick thighs and long legs led down to a pair of scuffed up, sparkly sneakers. It was hot for early October, unseasonably so, which made the turtleneck an intriguing choice.
I’d seen a lot of pretty girls. Girls who cheered my name and wanted me to sign their tits after a game. This one wasn’t even smiling. In fact, she was glaring at me.
But her eyes…
Dark, mysterious, a little angry, a little haunted, a little turned on. As I watched her, every single one of those pretty girls ceased to exist. They didn’t fucking compare. Staring at her, seeing her stare back—it unlocked something inside of me. Something I hadn’t known existed. Something that, when opened, released an unfamiliar word:
Mine.
I’d never thought of anyone as mine before.
Hockey was mine. Ruthlessness was mine. Social status, and sponsorships, and likely being number one in the NHL draft…all of that was mine. But a person? After growing up in my family, after having been betrayed and abandoned, first by my parents and then by my older brother, after watching all of my other siblings run away or drift off to do their own thing…it was clear a person would never be mine. That meant keeping them, and I didn’t want that. Not when everyone left. Not when I couldn’t trust anyone outside of the team.
No, I’d never had a mine.
Until right the fuck now.
She was still staring at me.
Go ahead, princess, stare all you want.
But her glare grew. I could feel loathing from where she stood in the doorway. Women rarely glared at me. Even the ones I kicked out of my bed post-orgasm didn’t get mad. I didn’t know who this girl was. I didn’t know why she was pissed at me. I didn’t care.
Especially when Noah Hawthorne, some douchebag in Sig Nu who hadn’t made the team and never would, approached her, leaning down to whisper something in her ear.
Mine.
With a growl I couldn’t control, I shoved my barely-touched beer at Judah, making my way toward them. If she wanted to flirt with someone, she could flirt with me. And if that jackass touched her, I was punching a hole through his head with my already clenched fist .
Halfway across the room, I stopped, and forced myself to inhale. I could hear my older brother, Micah, in my head, telling me to rein in my temper and think. And the genius hacker was right. My temper got me into trouble a lot, a switch I was trying to control better.
Your emotions don’t help you control the situation. Other people’s do. If you’re too caught up in your anger, you won’t see the threads to pull.
A cool head is the head that wins . My half-brother, Marcus, the cold, emotionless billionaire.
Alright, I could play this situation better. I didn’t know this girl, but picking her up in my arms and carrying her upstairs like an unwilling bride most likely wouldn’t go over well.
I continued my way across the room, swaggering slowly without a care in the world, a half-smile on my face as I scouted my prey.
“…Never seen you at one of these parties before, cutie. I’m happy to show you around, show you the ropes,” Noah was saying as he handed Tovah Kaufman, senior sports editor at The Daily Queen, a beer.
The girl I’d locked onto immediately grabbed the beer out of Tovah’s hand, testing the cap to make sure it was properly sealed before handing it back to her. Damn . She was smart enough to make sure it hadn’t been tampered with—a good idea when Vice and Vixen ran rampant around campus, even if we didn’t allow it at hockey parties. Not only that, she clearly cared enough about her friend that ensuring her safety was second nature. What would it be like, to matter so much to someone that caring for you was like muscle memory to them?
Who was this girl? She had to be visiting Tovah from somewhere else. If she was a student here, there was no way I would’ve missed her. Reaching them, I raised my chin at Noah.
He glared at me.
I jerked my head to the side.
Face turning a satisfying shade of red, Noah muttered, “asshole,” and walked away.
The girl had watched our mostly silent interaction, eyebrow raised. Once he was gone, her glare returned.
“What’s with the glare, princess?” I asked.
“Uh oh,” Tovah Kaufman said. Even though the rumor was that she got around, she stayed away from the team. So why was she here tonight?
“Don’t call me princess,” the girl said automatically.
“Aviva…” Tovah trailed off.
Aviva.
It was the perfect name for her. The three syllables settled themselves deep in my chest and made a home there.
“What’s wrong with princess, princess?” I asked, tugging on one of her curls.
Aviva shifted away from me, but the look in her eyes briefly shifted from loathing to lust. Eyes wide, lips parted, blush spreading across her cheeks—a rosy pink color I wanted to see everyfuckingwhere on her.
Capitalizing on the moment, I took her hand, slowly turning it so it was palm up and bending over it to drop a light kiss on her wrist. Her rosy skin was so soft and vulnerable here, and as I brushed my lips over it, I caught her scent: tart and sweet like apples and honey.
Mine . The word echoed in my head. I didn’t fight it.
I felt her shiver, heard her interrupted gasp as she tried to control herself. I couldn’t help the smile the sound brought to my lips .
She tugged on her hand. I didn’t release it.
“I’m Jack,” I informed her.
She practically spat at me. “I know. It’s hard not to know that.”
“Aviva,” Tovah interjected. “Maybe we should?—”
I rubbed my thumb over her rapidly beating pulse. “Oh, and what else do you know?”
“About you?” She pretended to think. “Only that everyone here thinks you walk on water.”
The mockery in her voice rubbed me the wrong way.
“And what about you, princess?”
“Verdict pending.”
This was not going as easily as I’d assumed it would. Part of me was annoyed. Part of me was impressed that she wasn’t impressed. I wasn’t used to girls not falling at my feet. I kind of liked it.
“Have a problem with hockey players?”
“Not with individual players—usually. Have a problem with the institution at large.” She watched me as she said the last, like she was looking for some…hint of something.
The back of my neck went hot. I resisted the urge to rub it. Hockey had given me everything: a way out from under my father’s thumb and the stiflingly insular community I’d been raised in. Friends and a makeshift family. A purpose. And the closest thing to a father figure I’d ever had in Coach. Someone shitting on it was like someone shitting on me and everything that mattered.
I wanted this girl. Badly. But now I wanted her on her knees in front of me, mascara running down her face as she put that bratty mouth to good use.
“If you have a problem with hockey, why are you at a hockey party?” I countered.
Aviva hesitated .
“I dragged her here,” Tovah said quickly, moving between us, likely to get her friend out of the line of fire.
Lie.
I could usually tell if people were lying. It was like an alarm that went off in my head.
And I hated liars. They were weak, cowardly, and would always betray you.
Was Aviva lying, too? Why couldn’t I get a real sense of her the way I could everyone else? Why did she feel like such a mystery?
I moved around Tovah to Aviva’s side. The beautiful brunette turned, keeping her gaze on me the way prey tracked their predators.
Smart. She was prey. My prey. I hadn’t decided how I would devour her yet.
“Why are you here, princess?”
She looked past me. “Wanted to see how the other half lives.”
I glanced at her sharply, looking her over again. Before, I’d been so caught up in her face and body, I hadn’t truly taken her clothes into account. Now I saw it: pilling on her sleeveless turtleneck, a loose thread on the seam of her black skirt, rubber sole splitting from the canvas of her left sneaker.
Unlike most of the students at Reina, Aviva clearly did not come from money. Neither had I, technically. It was not inexpensive to raise six children on a single salary in Teaneck, New Jersey. My father was a “man of the book,” and focused on religious studies. My mother worked as the receptionist at a doctor’s office, and the rest of our income came from wealthier people in the community who would throw us a bone every once in a while.
I’d made my own future—first through my hockey scholarship, and then via various sponsorships. That, with the likelihood of being drafted first, meant I didn’t have to worry about me. But then my half-brother Marcus entered stage right. He was a billionaire on some sort of apology tour, and even though I refused to move out of the hockey house, he’d started a trust fund for me and my other siblings. It meant I’d never have to work again, but I didn’t care—hockey was my life.
Aviva’s money situation was clearly different.
No wonder she hated “princess.”
Didn’t mean I’d stop. It was fun making her face turn red.
“Are you always this angry, princess ?” I drew the word out, just to see her eyes light with fire.
“Only when I have a good reason,” she said.
“Aviva, let’s go,” Tovah said.
“Let’s not,” I said. “How about I show you how the other half dances?”
Still holding Aviva’s wrist, I tugged her out of the kitchen and into the living room, where our second line had set up a makeshift dancefloor for us. I wove between the bodies of friends and classmates and girls I’d probably fucked at some point, until we were in the center of the space, surrounded, but somehow also alone.
“I have no idea why I’m letting you drag me around,” she muttered, once we’d left her friend behind.
I grinned at her. “Because you’re attracted to me.”
“I’m not attracted to bossy guys.”
Her body said otherwise. Especially when the song changed, to something low, sexy, dark, and kind of angry.
“I love this song.”
“Yeah?”
Tell me what else you love .
I pulled her against me, wrapping my arms around her waist and lining her up against my hardening cock, not even bothering to ease her into it. She stiffened immediately.
“Relax, princess,” I told her. “We’re just dancing. I promise.”
For now.
“Don’t call me princess.”
But her eyes dilated, and her body became pliant in my arms. Her submission was a turn on. If she liked me bossing her, I couldn’t wait to show her just how dominant I could be. I moved my hips to the music and she followed my lead. Her scent flooded my senses again. I’d never even been a fan of apples before, but I knew I was going to become familiar with their taste, and my mouth watered at the thought.
“I’m going to ask you another question,” I murmured into her ear.
She shivered. “Is that a statement or request?”
I chuckled. “I don’t make requests. Better you know that now.”
Her body softened even further into mine. She fucking liked that.
Fuck, I wanted this girl.
“Why are you here?” I asked again.
“You know, Jack Feldman, you have a lot of questions.”
Avoidance.
“I do,” I admitted.
“Why?”
I couldn’t say…because you’re a mystery when no one else is, and I want to know everything about you, from the color of your panties to your nightmares. Because the minute someone knows who I am, they’ll do anything to please me because they want to use me, but you don’t. Because you checked your friend’s beer bottle without ha ving to think about it. Because you seem to hate me, and it pisses me off but only makes me want you more.
Aviva was overwhelmed by me, and the only thing keeping her from fleeing was the thick attraction between us. She was intrigued, despite herself, and I had to rein in my impulse to steamroll her, or she’d be gone.
I like a chase, don’t get me wrong.
But I preferred having her within my grasp.
So I ignored her question, asking the one that was really plaguing me. “Is scoring a hockey player on your bucket list?” The thought pissed me off…that I might be interchangeable to her.
Rising onto her toes, Aviva wrapped her arms around my neck, and whispered in my ear. “There’s only one thing on my bucket list, Jack Feldman. But even if it were a mile long, hockey players wouldn’t be on it. Ever .”
Her honest answer was equally relieving and aggravating. I needed to know what that one thing was—and then I needed to get rid of it so her one thing was me.
“Then why are you dancing with me?” I asked.
“I’m not dancing with you.”
I tightened my grip on her hips. “Feels like it to me.”
“You forced me to.”
I laughed again. She could’ve fought me harder, if she really wasn’t interested.
“Princess, I think you like being forced.”
Her gasp was quick, short, and made my cock go so thick and hard it hurt.
“Don’t—”
But she smelled like apples and honey, and she was soft and warm and round, and so I didn’t really care what protest she’d come up with next, or why she was anti-hockey, or why she seemed to both be drawn to me and hate me. Nothing had ever felt as good as Aviva’s body in my arms, tight, trapped—and I was going to take what I’d wanted since I’d first seen her.
Releasing her waist with one hand, I gripped the back of her neck to keep her from escaping, and lowered my mouth to hers.
She resisted at first, but the feel of her soft lips on mine, the sexy, surprised moan, it all made me want to push her harder. I took her mouth in a brutal, claiming, almost punishing kiss, forcing her lips open to take my tongue, got lost in the taste of her, the heat of her, the sound and smell and feel of her. She squirmed against me; I refused to let her go.
And then when she moaned again and softened into my arms, lowering her arms to wrap around my waist, well. That was it.
I was a motherfucking goner.
The world shifted on its axis. Even fucking gravity disappeared. The people around us certainly disappeared. Just me and her and this raging satisfaction.
Mine.
And then she bit my lip, hard. I pulled back.
“What the fuck? You want to play rough, princess?”
She raised a hand to her mouth, and the dazed look in her eyes didn’t match her tone when she said, “I don’t want to play rough. I don’t want to play at all.”
The lie pissed me off.
“Bullshit.”
I leaned back in for more, but she was too fast for me, ducking underneath my arm and, with one final look at me, dashing out of the living room, out of the house—and, if she got her say, out of my life.
Too bad she’d caught the attention of a predator .
Like I said—I love a good chase.
So I followed her out the door, ignoring the surprise of the people around me. I had a princess to hunt, after all. And unlike Cinderella, she hadn’t left me with a glass slipper.
Once outside, I saw her disappear around the corner of the block. Deciding to follow her by car, I reached into my pocket for my keys —only to discover that Cinderella hadn’t left me a souvenir—she’d taken one.
My wallet, to be precise.
What the actual fuck?
Had she been playing me the whole time? Had the innocent, I hate hockey players, especially you thing been an act? Did she just want my wallet? If so, why? She was smart enough to know I’d cancel my credit cards immediately, so it couldn’t be for money.
I touched my fingers to my lip. It was cut, and wet with blood.
Annoyed that she’d gotten one over on me—and equally intrigued that anyone had managed to steal from me without me realizing—I got in my car and followed her from a distance with the lights off. Aviva was up to no good, and I was going to be the one to catch her in her next act—whatever that happened to be.
She’d bit me.
Broken skin.
Made me bleed.
Two could play at that game. And when it came to games, I always won.