Chapter 2
2
Isaac
I was this close to being free and clear of Tovah, when I felt a tug on the sleeve of my jersey. Even in the cold, I could smell her: lemon and sugar. I’d never been able to identify the exact brand of perfume she wore, even though I’d once embarrassingly spent an hour in a department store sniffing so many perfumes, I got a headache.
Stopping, I turned, making sure to loom over her.
“What do you want, little snoop?” I asked.
She glared, but flipped her hair like she didn’t care about the insulting nickname, or the way it questioned her honesty and integrity. Close up, the pink color was even more distracting.
“You never responded about the interview.”
Goddamn it, that fucking interview. She’d emailed me three times to schedule it, and I’d ignored every single email. I wasn’t giving her an interview. That would require spending time with her, facing her, being surrounded by her sharp and sweet scent and having to look into those daring brown eyes. There was no fucking way.
I moved my eyes to the right, like I was trying to remember. “Didn’t I? I’m sorry, I thought I responded. My bad. The answer is no. ”
I winked again, just to annoy her.
She shook her head, like I was a silly toddler. “Isaac, this interview is to help your team. Don’t you need some good press? Why would you turn something like that down?”
I hated that she wasn’t wrong. Last fall, Aviva had transferred to Reina to get revenge on our coach on her brother Asher’s behalf. In the process, she and Jack had met, fought it out, and fallen in love—and our coach, who’d turned out to be an abusive asshole, died. The team had been shrouded in scandal ever since.
But I doubted that Tovah really wanted to help the team look better in the public’s eye. No, I called bullshit.
“Doesn’t the offer of ‘good press’ go against your journalistic ethics? I’m ashamed of you, Ms. Kaufman. I expected better. Maybe you’re a hack and a snoop.”
This time, she raised an eyebrow. This time, she smirked, like she’d caught me.
“So you don’t want me to write a piece that features the Kings in a good light? Interesting. Is that on the record?” she asked.
Damn it.
“Why are you doing the interview, anyway? You’re the editor. Shouldn’t one of your underlings be doing the interview?”
Her cheeks colored. “The editor-in-chief wants me to do this one. Lucky for both of us.”
Interesting. Once again, her blush distracted me. Captivated me. I wanted to see that color all over her. Particularly on her delectable heart-shaped, curvy ass as I delivered hard slap after slap to it. In fact, I’d turn those cheeks redder than her current blush. My cock stiffened from that thought alone. Fortunately, she wouldn’t notice. Unfortunately, it hurt like hell in my cup.
My breathing had picked up. So had hers. I wasn’t sure when it happened, but the two of us had moved in closer, narrowing the distance between our bodies so her big, juicy tits brushed against my chest.
Were her nipples hard?
Fuck, I wanted to bite them until she shrieked from the pain—and pleasure.
I shook it off, taking a step back. I’d never had these dark, almost violent inclinations with other girls. Sure, I’d played a bit—some light spanking here, some easy bondage there. But I’d never wanted to make a girl scream from pain as she struggled to get away from me, but I just pulled her closer and made her take whatever I fucking wanted to give her until she?—
Holy fucking hell. Get your head out of her pussy, Isaac , I scolded myself, alarmed by my dark fantasies. I didn’t, couldn’t want her. She brought out my worst instincts, and not only sexual ones. I wanted to bruise her soft skin, spank her until she sobbed…and some part of me wanted to protect her from harm from anyone but me .
“Tovah Kaufman,” I mused. “What is it about you that makes me fantasize about doing such fucked up things?”
“Oh, Isaac,” she batted her eyes at me. “Because I’m the only one who sees the real you—and that scares you.”
I stilled. “And why do you think there’s a ‘real me?’”
“Because I know what it’s like to have to hide who you really are,” she murmured, like she didn’t even realize she was saying it, so lost in the daze of this intense…energy between us.
Her soft brown eyes had darkened, her breathing accelerated. Was she fantasizing about me, too? No way. Tovah Kaufman wasn’t a prude, but there was no way she’d want it as rough as I wanted to give it to her.
Before I could entertain that intriguing, terrifying thought further, a throat cleared.
Glancing over, I spotted Coach Philip. He’d replaced our former coach, Joshua Jensen, after he’d died. From what I knew, Coach Philip had coached for Harvard before coming here and was considered the best hockey coach in the NCAA. I wasn’t sure how much Reina had paid him to convince him to leave Cambridge, Massachusetts for Gehenom, New York, but it had to have been a fortune. He seemed like a good guy—if a hardass. He pushed us harder in practice than our former coach had, and didn’t take any shit. He’d also enforced a “no partying before game day” rule, which pissed off some of the guys. But not me. I wasn’t afraid of a little hard work, not if it meant we won the Frozen Four and I could prove to myself that I was meant for hockey. That I was meant for the lights of the arena, not my father’s darkness.
The second you graduate, your life belongs to this family , my father sneered in my head.
I shoved the dark thoughts about my future away, focusing on the present.
“Hi, Coach,” I greeted with a charming smile.
“Jones. Ms. Kaufman,” he greeted both of us, surprising me that not only did he know Tovah’s name already, but that he’d said it with such respect. Yeah, she was Reina’s sports editor, but he hadn’t been here long enough to be familiar with her. Regardless, hearing her name in his mouth, even her last name, even with only respect and no innuendo, pissed me the fuck off. I was the only one who got to call her Ms. Kaufman, even if I only said it to annoy her.
My hands tightened into fists, and I had to force myself to relax them.
“Ms. Kaufman, is there something you needed?” he asked.
Tovah exhaled slowly, turning to look at Coach. “I was asking Mr. Jones if he was able to finally find time in his schedule to be interviewed for a feature on the Kings.”
“And I was giving her some helpful advice on her approach,” I added cheerfully.
“Hmm,” Coach Philip said. To me, he barked, “Jones, locker room.”
Fuck . He must have seen through me. I was about to be reamed out, and it was completely Ms. Kaufman’s fucking fault.
Pissed, I leaned down and whispered in her ear, “You’re getting nothing from me, little snoop. ”
This time, the insult must have hit, because her face went white, and her eyes narrowed. I should’ve felt satisfied, but there was just a sick, angry feeling in my chest. Because I wanted to give her something—my cock shoved down her throat, in her pussy, or so far up her ass she’d feel me forever…
With that fucked-up image haunting me as much as Tovah did, I followed Coach Philip into the locker room, where the rest of the team waited. Multiple players slapped me on the shoulder, congratulating me on the winning shot. My friends watched me, Judah smirking and Levi staring like he could read my every thought. When I joined them at my locker, Jack looked like he was about to say something, opening his mouth before shaking his head.
“What?” I snapped.
“That,” he said. “This surly, sullen shit isn’t like you.”
“Girl trouble,” Judah offered.
“Nah,” I said, forcing an easy smile.
Before they could push me further, Coach interrupted once again.
“Good game, all. You worked together as a team, which is what we need, especially in the face of this increased scrutiny. For those of you who are juniors and seniors, this means that scouts are going to be extra critical. Anything any of us can do to re-establish the team in a good light will benefit the team and your teammates.” He looked at me meaningfully.
Shit. Even though I would never get to play hockey professionally—my father had seen to that when we made our deal —I still wanted my team and friends to get the futures they deserved.
“Alright.” Coach cleared his throat. “Feldman, the press are waiting for you. Jones, my office.”
“What’s that about?” Judah asked.
I shrugged. “Maybe he wants to congratulate me on a good game,” I said, forcing a laugh and a grin.
But my gut sank as I followed Coach Philip into what was now his office. All traces of Coach Jensen were gone, like he’d never existed, which was for the best. The office was stark, except for a few photos on the wall of our new coach with his arm around a man and two young boys.
He watched me, like he expected me to be some homophobic douchebag. “Problem?”
“Absolutely not, sir. Nice looking family.”
He made a hmph sound, but my response must have satisfied him because he changed the subject.
“Jones, why don’t you want to do that interview?”
Curious, and a little skeptical, I asked him, “How do you even know who Tovah is?” He’d only been on campus for a couple months.
He smiled. “My husband is a professor in the journalism department. Tovah is one of his students, and he always speaks very highly of her.” He cleared his throat. “Now, why don’t you want to do that interview?”
I looked away, wracking my brain for a good excuse. Because if I spend even a second alone with the little snoop, we’re both going to end the interview bare assed with me pumping between her insanely hot thick thighs wouldn’t go over well. Because I hate the rude, nosy bitch for no real reason beyond the fact that she fucks with my head and equilibrium, so I refuse to give her the upper hand also wouldn’t fly.
I settled on, “I don’t like interviews, sir.”
He snorted. “Jones, even with Feldman as captain, everyone knows you’re the real face of the team. You’ve done interviews in the past. You’ll do this one, too. Like I said, the team needs a new narrative, and it’s your job to create it. Use that easy charm and confidence and answer her questions truthfully.”
I raised an eyebrow. “And if she asks questions that, if I answer honestly, put the team in a bad light?”
She would. There was no doubt that Tovah, clever as she was, had hard hitting questions ready that most guys would stumble over.
“Then you answer them the best you can, while making sure to present the team well and distance us as much as you can from your former coach.”
“And if I say no?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
“Then you’re benched for the rest of the season,” he said. “It would be a damn shame. We need you. But I’m not going to let whatever personal issues you have with Ms. Kaufman keep this team from getting back its good standing in the league.”
“I don’t have any personal issues with Tovah,” I said.
He raised an eyebrow. “Then this should be easy. Right?”
“Right,” I muttered.
“Alright. Good game, again, Jones. You’re a solid player and teammate, and it’s going to mean a great future in hockey for you.”
The praise slightly softened the blow, but his reference to my future was rubbing salt on an open, secret wound. Because I wouldn’t be playing hockey after college. The invisible noose around my neck pulled tighter.
Time to go face the little snoop and let her know she’d won the battle, even though I’d win the war.
Whatever it took.