Hearts at Play (Merritt Point #2)

1. Jack

Jack

“This is a bad idea,” Ava mumbles against my mouth.

“Always.”

We crash against the bathroom door in the dim club hallway, her teeth raking against my neck as my hands grip her hips and drag her closer. The door shuts behind us, and I flip the lock with a loud click.

Her fingers are at my zipper as she drops to her knees on the dark-tile floor, and I’m met with big green eyes and the most perfect view down the front of her black mini dress.

Holy shit.

I grip the gray marble counter when she circles her mouth around my cock, and my head falls back toward the ceiling.

“That’s it. Take it like a good girl.”

With a loud smack, her red lips release me, and a curl of frustration builds at the base of my spine.

“We weren’t going to do this again,” she says, a smug smile on her face.

I say that every time, but I’ve been fucking the coach’s daughter for months now. I’m so worked up after the end of training camp tonight, and Ava is always willing.

There’s a knock at the bathroom door, and Ava startles. “Someone’s in here. One minute!”

I arch a brow. “Is that a challenge?”

The heavy bass of the club is pumped in through the speakers in the ceiling, matching my heartbeat.

Boom, boom. Like the headache throbbing behind my eyes.

“So cocky, Murphy.”

I wrap my hand around my dick and give it one firm pump. “Hands on the counter. Now.”

Ava is an excellent listener and does as I say. She also hates her dad. Do I take advantage of her daddy issues? Yes. Do I care? Not when I get laid. Even if it means a quickie in the bathroom at whatever club we’re at now.

The knocking persists, but so do I. Our gazes connect through the mirror, and I flash a crooked grin, lean in to press a kiss to the side of her throat, then reach around to push up the hem of her black mini dress and swipe my fingers through her wetness.

“Greedy fucking girl,” I groan. “You were just waiting for this, weren’t you? So wet.”

Her head tips back against my shoulder. I reach into my suit jacket, take out a condom tucked into my money clip, and slip it down my length.

“Don’t get senti—”

I thrust inside, robbing Ava of her words. Makes me a little proud, strokes my ego. I’ll do anything for a good stroke. Pun definitely intended.

“Fuck, Jack, you’re—”

“Jack? I knew it!” a high-pitched voice screeches from the other side of the door. A voice I’d recognize anywhere. The bane of my existence. “Ava, if Murphy’s fucking you, he’s in deep shit.”

“Not now, Laura,” I growl. “We need a minute.”

“Having a problem, Murphy?”

I can picture the smug smirk likely plastered on the junior agent’s face assigned to follow me.

She’s probably pushing up those extra-large gold-rimmed glasses that always slide down her nose too.

As if to prove a point. She’s a woman who lives for grammatically correct punctuation.

No comma left unturned, no stray em dashes.

There’s a reason she’s a killer at contracts, but that doesn’t mean I want her riding my ass all the time.

Ava grinds against me, urging me on. “Don’t listen to her.”

My pace is relentless, and maybe I’m a bit rough, but Ava seems to like it. I wrap my hand around the slicked-back blonde ponytail. “Come for me.”

“I can’t. I—”

“Can’t” isn’t in my vocabulary. She’s damn well getting there.

I adjust her hands on the counter so my hips dig in at the right angle, then slip my fingers into her lace panties and press my thumb against her clit. She shudders against my touch before her body tightens on a shocked gasp, then she comes.

My own release is so close.

Ava reaches between us, trying to roll the condom down. “I want to feel you. Fill me up. Just once, Jack. Please.”

Hot? Yes. But it’s against the rules, and I don’t need complications. The risk of getting caught is the only thrill I’m chasing here. With her.

“Not right now.” Instead, I catch her hooded gaze in the mirror for a brief minute and lightly curl my hand lightly around her throat how I know she likes it.

“I hate how good you are…” She rolls her hips and melts against me.

I thrust, slamming my eyes shut. I don’t want to look at her, don’t want to think about the fact we’ve done this enough now that we know exactly what we each need to get off so quickly.

“Jesus, Jack…”

I come a second later, groaning against the back of her neck. She makes this small, satisfied sigh before I pull out. She adjusts her dress as I spin toward the wall to clean up.

It’s quiet for a minute before Laura knocks again. “Let’s go.”

Ava chuckles, whacking her boot against the door, spurring on a frustrated groan from outside in the hallway. “Seems our secret is out.”

Laura might be pissed, but only because she got stuck babysitting me this season. My senior agent, Heather, wants me to eat, breathe, and live only hockey.

“Played great at the scrimmage today, Murphy.”

“Thanks.” I run my hands under the icy faucet water, pausing long enough that my pulse settles into a slow, steady thud. “That was the last time, Ava,” I say, clearing my throat. The water runs over my wrists a second longer, but it’s not enough to numb the pain in my head.

“Sure.” She grins, slaps me on the cheek, and slips out, but not before I catch a sliver of Laura’s glare in the bathroom mirror.

I open the door, somehow missing the phone chucked at my face, instead walking straight into my agent’s high heel when she kicks me.

“Oww. What the fuck, Laura?”

She adjusts her glasses and tugs on her navy suit jacket. The dim lights of the club spark off the single diamond solitaire that hangs around her neck against dark-brown skin. Her hair is braided and pulled back tight, only drawing more focus to her brown eyes that are boring into me.

“The coach’s daughter? What are you thinking? Never mind, I know. You’re not! You’re ruled by that thing in your pants.”

“The thing you just chopped off with those spikes?” I rub my hand over my tailored pants, grimacing.

“Knock that shit off and focus.”

I stretch my neck from side to side, ignoring the throbbing pain in my balls from her Louboutins. I grin, using my dimples to plead my case. Apparently, I have an image problem, and my sponsors are getting nervous, hence the babysitter.

“Eww, no,” Laura says. “That’s not going to work with me.”

“You told me I was a pretty boy.”

For the record, she did. Two weeks ago, Heather and Laura both sat me down before the start of training camp and begged me not to be a problem this season. They didn’t appreciate all the extra work my PR team had to put in when I wrecked my Porsche last spring.

“Are you happy?” she asks, tossing her arms into the air. “Love your contract, your condo, that house you’re renovating? The girls?”

I shrug just to piss her off. “It’s not a bad life.”

“If you don’t get your head out of your ass, you’ll be traded.”

“Nope, can’t happen.” I start walking back to my teammates.

The bass from the club thumps against my chest, only igniting the fire burning in me tonight.

Sometimes, I just want to push until I hit my limit.

I can’t seem to find that line, though, and that scares me.

Not that I’ll admit it. Lately, even fucking isn’t enough. I just…

I hear the fast click of her heels against the tile before her hand pushes between my shoulder blades, forcing me to spin and face her again. “Anything can happen if you set your mind to it. And you’re self-destructing right now.”

I whirl around and stare down at her.

“Heather makes or breaks careers,” she shouts over the music. “And if you keep this shit up, that includes your career.”

“That a threat?” When she doesn’t answer, I press on. “Why are you even here?”

“It’s my job to know where you are.”

“Well, that’s not creepy.” I’d say impressive, but I’m sure Bosko caved. Our team captain is as wholesome as they get.

The hard edge to my words melts as soon as I catch two puck bunnies hanging by the team’s table. Tall blondes, in dresses that look amazing on.

Bet they’d look better off.

“Stop thinking with your dick, Murphy,” Laura continues. “You can be great if you want it.”

“I am great. Look, I’m with the guys. We just wrapped training camp. You can bust my balls tomorrow. I need to get back…”

“No, tomorrow you have to be at that charity bachelor auction,” she shouts out after me. “Make good decisions!”

Fuck me. That’s right.

My family’s seafood shack, Merritt’s Catch Lobster Co.

, burned down a few weeks ago, at the end of the summer.

I offered to help pay for the rebuild, but my parents refused.

They decided to give the insurance money to my older brother Ethan to open a new restaurant of his own.

Then my tiny menace of a younger sister talked me into a charity bachelor auction at the town’s Fall Fest: one date in return for a generous donation toward rebuilding the affected neighboring businesses.

I agreed, of course. I’m not the heartless playboy Laura believes I am.

Either way, Merritt Point is the last place I want to be.

My friend Alex Navarro, the team’s goalie, stuffs a shot in my hand as soon as I return. “You’ve got to lay off fucking Ava.”

I toss my head back and down the shot, feeling its warmth coat my throat.

“We all know, dude.”

I grin.

I’m all for going out, but clubs aren’t usually where I go if I’m looking for a good time. Still Bosko’s wife, Natalya, thought it would be “team building.” Her words, not mine. She’s out on the dance floor with the rest of the WAGs, passing out vodka shots.

Surprised she didn’t make captain of the Boston Breakers. Bosko could use a tip or two. He’s a great leader but not exactly big on feelings.

“You think Coach is going to be okay with it?” Alex snorts dismissively. “It’s like you want to be traded.”

I shrug. I don’t know what I want, and that fucking terrifies me.

It used to be hockey, but I’m growing bored with everything.

I’m not sure I can play any better than I am right now.

Like it or not, Heather can’t deny I’m the team’s best power forward and have been for five years now. New England loves me.

Most of the time.

“Where’s Molly tonight?”

He ignores my question about his wife. “They came looking for you.” Alex hikes his thumb over to the two leggy blondes.

I set down my shot glass on the high-top table.

“No,” he laughs. “Bad idea.”

“I love bad ideas.” I cut through the rest of my teammates to the two women waiting at the end of the bar.

“Wow, Jack. You played great today,” they say nearly in unison.

“You big Boston Breakers fans? It was a good scrimmage today. Chicago is going to be in trouble next week when we play them for our first preseason game.”

“Well, we love you. Does that count?” The shorter of the pair flips back her blonde hair. She’s in a tight blue dress.

“Both of you?”

They both nod, inching closer to me.

Am I that lucky?

Yes, the fuck I am. Almost always.

“Want to get out of here?” I ask.

“Sure, our hotel isn’t too far. Just over on Beacon.”

They’re from out of town? Even better. Less strings.

“I know a place.” I order us a ride to the small boutique hotel tucked away in Back Bay, not interested in making small talk. It’s always the same, and it’s clear they don’t want to talk about hockey.

They whisper to one another, then giggle, before the taller one in the red top reaches her hand out to grip my arm. “Even better.”

“Love when a plan works out.” I smile again, tucking my phone into my pocket. “Ready?”

They’re giggling behind me as I lead them out, but not before Laura glares at me from the exit and mouths, “Hell no.”

“You told me to go home, Laura,” I shout, spinning back toward her with my arms in the air. “Never said it should be alone!”

“You better…” She chases after us out onto the sidewalk, sidestepping the massive bouncer manning the door. “Be there at ten tomorrow morning. Merritt Point, Murphy!”