Kincaid
I sip my drink and nod, listening to my new teammates shoot the shit, talking about the upcoming season, about last year’s problems, about their impression of the new coach.
I’m new to the team too, and I can’t help but wonder what their impression is of me. Of course they have one. New guys coming in can shake shit up, mix up the chemistry, sometimes for worse, sometimes for the better. Obviously, my goal is the latter.
I’ve been playing professional hockey since I was twenty-two. Over the past twelve years, I’ve won championships. I’m a four-time All-Star. And this city? They’re hungry for a championship. It’s no secret that winning one is the main reason I’ve been brought on. Why Toronto is paying me tens of millions of dollars over the next few seasons.
The future of the team is on my shoulders. And I plan to rise to the challenge.
So, I’m taking the time to get to know my new teammates, my coach, the staff. Every single person matters. Everyone has something to contribute. And one of the reasons I’ve won so many championships is because I know that no matter how well I play, I’m only as good as the team around me.
Wolf Hartley, the best winger on the team, turns to me. I have no idea if Wolf is his real name, but it suits him, with his gray eyes and reputation for ruthlessness on the ice.
“How are you settling in so far?” he asks, nursing his beer.
“Getting there. I’m in a rental place for now, hoping to buy something in a month or two. But I grew up not far from here, so my family’s excited to have me local again.” Over the past twelve years, I’ve played in Florida, in Edmonton, and most recently, in Los Angeles. “It feels good to be home.”
“Amen, brother,” says Tanner Davis, the team’s captain and one of the best defensemen in the league. “Nothing like playing for the team you grew up cheering for as a kid.”
We drink and chat some more, and then I turn to head to the bar to refresh my drink.
But I don’t make it far, because I’m frozen to the spot, staring at the most beautiful girl I’ve ever laid eyes on. She’s like an angel. She’s like a mirage in a desert. She’s a vision.
I can’t breathe. The sound of the party drops away around me, and all I can hear is the beating of my heart as I stare, drinking her in like a man dying of thirst.
She’s a tiny thing who probably wouldn’t even come up to my shoulder, but with curves that make my palms tingle and heat race down my spine. Full, perky breasts, and a generous ass that fills out her jeans perfectly. Her long, blond hair falls in a golden sheet over her slender shoulders, and her face…
Beautiful doesn’t do her justice. Not even close. I don’t have words to describe how radiant she is, or to explain how drawn I feel to her.
I frown as she crosses her arms while she talks to the waiter, angling her body away from him. Her cheeks are glowing red, her shoulders tense.
My frown deepens. The waiter says something to her that has her biting her lip and shifting her weight awkwardly from one foot to the other. She shakes her head, and he leans in. Everything about her body language—the way she’s fidgeting, her red cheeks, her downcast eyes, her rigid spine—scream that she wants nothing to do with this guy.
I’m in motion before I even think about it, my legs eating up the space between me and this goddess.
My eyes are locked on the scumbag making my girl uneasy. I’m not a violent man, but tonight I just might be if he lays a finger on her.
The intensity of my thoughts is almost enough to make me stop, make me wonder what the hell is happening right now, but even more intense is my need to put myself between this girl and the waiter. To make sure she’s okay. To make sure he doesn’t so much as look at her for the rest of the night.
I slide smoothly between them, putting the girl behind me and facing down the waiter. I lean casually on the bar, even though I’m feeling pretty fucking far from casual right now.
I feel like I have gasoline in my veins, and it only burns hotter being so close to her.
“Hey, buddy,” I say easily. “I think she’s good on the canapés.”
The waiter tries to look at her, and I take a half a step closer to him, close enough that I know I’m taking up his entire field of vision.
“I was just—“
“Just making her uncomfortable,” I say. I smile. “Time to move along.”
He hesitates and tries to peer over my shoulder. Wrong move. I clap my hand down on his shoulder in what looks like a friendly gesture, but the pressure I apply is anything but friendly. He pales and squeaks.
“I think someone on the other side of the pool needs your help. They’re real hungry over there. There’s no reason for you to come back this way.” I lean in. “Don’t even think about looking at her again, or you and I are going to have a problem.” I back away, letting my hand fall loosely to my side. “Big one.”
I’m a big guy, and clearly he has at least a few working brain cells, because he’s white as he grabs his tray, nodding. “Yep. No problem.” He heads off in the direction of the pool, the canapés on his tray wobbling slightly when he glances nervously at me over his shoulder.
I wave.
And then I turn to my angel. Our eyes meet and it’s like a hand is gripping my heart, squeezing it hard. She’s so beautiful and sweet I can hardly breathe.
And young. Fuck, she’s young. I’d thought maybe mid-twenties from afar, but up close, I can see she’s younger than that. Twenty, maybe. Definitely more than a decade younger than me.
“Are you okay?” I ask, leaning against the bar with my hands in my pockets so I don’t do something absolutely insane, like wrap my arms around her.
She blinks at me, her enormous green eyes like clover on a fresh spring day.
“Um. What?” she says after a minute, staring at me and then shaking her head.
Fuck, do I like that she’s staring at me. Like her eyes are just as magnetized to me as mine are to her.
“Are you okay?” I ask again. She licks her lips, and the sight of her pink tongue on her full bottom lip makes my blood heat.
I have no idea what the fuck is happening right now. I’m not a man who responds to random women this way. All I know is that I feel powerless do to anything besides give myself over to whatever is happening right now. To whatever started happening the second I laid eyes on her.
“I…yeah,” she says quietly, and I inch closer so I can hear her over the music and conversation. “I’m fine.” Her eyes meet mine again and she blushes. “Thank you.”
I can’t stop staring at her. I can’t, and I don’t want to. It’s like there’s an invisible string between us, drawing me in, making it impossible to look away. Tethering me to her.
“I’m ,” I say, extending my hand toward her. She slips her small hand into mine and electricity dances up my arm and down my spine. Her skin is smooth and warm, her fingers slender and delicate.
Inside me, a storm of lust and need is raging. I don’t even know her name, I don’t know the first thing about her, but I want her more than I’ve ever wanted a woman in my entire life.
“Lilah,” she says softly in that delicately sweet voice of hers. She ducks her head as she smiles, and I feel like I’ve been punched in the chest with pure sunshine.
She’s so sweet and shy that I want to wrap her up and protect her from the world. I want to earn more of those smiles.
I want to throw her over my shoulder and march out of here like a fucking caveman.
I don’t know what’s happening, and frankly, I don’t care. All that matters now is Lilah.
Her hand slowly slips out of mine and her cheeks are bright pink as she takes a sip of her wine.
“Enjoying the party?” I ask and she shrugs, glancing around.
“Um. Well.”
“No?”
She looks up at me again and I want to drown in her eyes. “Parties aren’t really my thing,” she says. “I was sort of obligated to come.”
“Obligated?” My stomach twists as a sour taste fills my mouth. Is she here with someone?
She nods. “My dad works for the team, so…” She shrugs again, and the light catches her blond hair, making her look even more angelic. Relief floods me, and I’m weak with the intense rush of it.
I am fucking rapt in her presence. She’s so soft and sweet and beautiful that I feel like I’m going to explode out of my skin.
“Who’s your dad?” I ask.
“Um, Shane? Shane Ferguson? He’s the new head coach.”
Everything inside me goes completely still. I feel like I’m made of marble. My angel is Coach Ferguson’s daughter?
Fuck. Fucking hell. This is bad. Beyond bad. If he knew the thoughts flickering through my brain about his daughter, he’d bench me.
No. Scratch that. He’d kill me. And he’d have good reason. Because although I’ve only known Lilah for five minutes, the things I want to do to her are filthy.
Knowing that she’s the coach’s daughter should have me walking away. Should have me wishing her a good night and leaving her alone.
But I’m not going to. I can’t. Knowing she’s Shane’s daughter doesn’t do anything to dim the magnetic pull I feel towards her. It should, but it doesn’t.
Besides, if I walk away now, there’s no guarantee that asshole waiter won’t bother her again. As long as I’m here, nothing bad will happen to her.
I smile at her, loving the way her eyes slip down to my mouth when I do. “Your dad seems like a great guy. I’m excited to play for him this season.”
She smiles again, hitting me with another dose of that sunshine. “He’s pretty excited about it, too. He talks about you all the time. He’s super pumped to have you on the team.” She twists her fingers together as she looks up at me. “He says you’re one of the best centers in the league.”
“High compliment, coming from your dad. I’ll do my best to live up to it.”
“I know you will.” Her voice is quiet, but there’s conviction there. Belief. And it makes me want her even more.
“Are you coming to the game on Saturday?” I ask. It’s the season opener, and my first game playing for the Toronto Thunder. I want her there. I need her watching.
“I don’t know. I wasn’t really planning to.”
Disappointment squeezes tight around my heart.
“You should come,” I say, trying to sound casual. “It’ll be fun. The season opener is always exciting.”
She bites her lip again, glancing around. God, I want to pull that lip out from between her perfect teeth and soothe it with my thumb. “I don’t know…”
I meet her eyes and she inhales sharply. “Please? I’d really love it if you came.” To the game. On my face. Around my cock.
Christ, I’m going to hell.
Her sweet face lights up, and she tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah?” I nod. “Well, in that case, I guess I’d better ask my dad for a ticket.” Then she blushes again, making me want to cup her face in my hands so I can feel the heat of her skin as I kiss her.
And in this moment, I know two things to be absolutely, unequivocally true.
One: even though I should, there’s no way in hell I’m going to be able to stay away from this girl.
Two: I am totally, and completely fucked.