Chapter 6 – Seth
Awkward, missionary pose while fully clothed in a hotel gym with my new teammates just down the hall. That’s what’s happening right now.
I take a deep breath and slowly lower the rest of my weight down onto Bri, straddling her in some bizarre, absolutely questionable, arrangement.
The last thing I need is someone walking in on us.
I’m sure a photo of the new goaltender for the Mayhem dry humping a stranger in a hotel gym would do wonders for my clean image.
Okay… here we go.
“Hold onto my shoulders to steady yourself,” she says. Her eyes are more determined and focused now.
I gently place my hands where she asks, my fingers practically swallowing the delicate frame of her body.
She’s not tiny; she’s definitely strong, but compared to me, she looks small underneath me, and the bones in her shoulders disappear under my massive, goaltender hands.
And then—without any sort of warning—she plants her feet into the ground and launches her hips upward, sending me jolting toward the ceiling like an inexperienced bull rider.
“Holy shit, woman,” I bark out, scrambling to steady myself so I don’t fall backward.
Bri grins, completely unfazed by my reaction. “I told you. You’ve underestimated my glute strength. Now keep your feet off the ground so that these next few reps count. I’m not letting you cheat by shifting your weight.”
She lowers me back down like I weigh nothing, only to do it again.
And again. And again. And again. And it’s not just the fact that she’s lifting me—it’s how she’s doing it.
With so much controlled power, her muscles shifting beneath her skin, her body effortlessly thrusting my weight into the air like she’s been training for this moment her whole life. And I—I don’t know where to look now.
Her eyes, fringed with dark lashes behind those sexy-as-sin black rimmed glasses?
Her lips, soft and pink, parted in concentration?
The tiny bit of sweat that’s forming on her smooth forehead?
Or maybe her goddamn pelvis, where my cock is currently being pressed into her with every single thrust, causing my brain to short circuit and every nerve in my body firing at once.
I’ve been an athlete my whole life. I know strength when I see it. And this is some kind of inhuman display of muscle control and power. What I’m feeling beneath me is more than a distraction. I can’t think straight. I can’t see anything but her.
By the time she finishes and sets me back down, breathing hard, I stumble away like I need the distance, like I need a second to regain some kind of sanity.
My heart is racing, my head light, and Bri looks completely unaffected by what just happened.
She blows a loose strand of hair from her face and wipes her palms down her thighs as she grins up at me, still leaning against the bench.
“That was ten. I didn’t time it, but I’m pretty sure I was faster.”
“Well, damn.”
She pushes to stand and then moves to the opposite bench, grabs the plate of cake she’d been eating from earlier and walks back to me, holding it out.
“You look like you need this more than I do. Plus, I already ate half.”
I hesitate for just a moment before conceding, because yeah, she’s right. I probably do need this more. My life is a fucking mess. I don’t know what’s going on in hers, but something tells me it can’t possibly compare to the disaster that I’ve been dealing with.
Dead wife. Living ex-wife who I never should have married.
Single dad to a tween daughter who is dangerously close to full teenage rebellion and crushing on boys.
A new, professional hockey team where I don’t feel settled yet.
A nanny that I still need to hire. And now, I’m in a hotel gym with a stranger getting hip thrusted when I should be bonding with my teammates.
Yeah. I need this damn cake.
It takes only two bites to consume what was left of the angel cake, and damn was it worth it.
Soft, buttery, melt-in-your-mouth perfection—served to me by my very own angel in a tight little black dress and a mischievous grin.
I toss the empty plate in the gym trash and sink back onto the bench, hoping this isn’t the end of our strange little moment.
I might not have much good in my life right now, but something about being around her makes me feel ten times lighter.
Bri sits too, settling onto the bench opposite me, her knee bumping against mine playfully.
I should call it quits and go find my teammates.
Walk away. But there’s something about her that I need a little more of.
Something good. Something bright and warm and easy that I haven’t been around in a long, long time.
Maybe it’s wrong to want more of it for just a bit longer.
But I need her positivity as much as I needed that cake.
“Why are you here tonight?” I ask, eyeing her. “Besides for the free angel food cake.”
She grins. “That’s not enough of a reason?”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “You’re not one of my teammates girlfriends, are you?”
She leans back, looking up at the ceiling. “No. But maybe you shouldn’t ask so many questions. Maybe you should just roll with the unpredictability of it all. A magical minute with a stranger. Life is all about these kinds of rare moments of spontaneity, don’t you think?”
“Life is made of moments where you get bench pressed by a random guy in a shitty gym?”
She smiles and her green eyes brighten a little more. “Yeah. It’s beautiful. It’s unexpected. It’s…romantic.”
I blink. Because… what? That might be the strangest thing anyone has ever said to me.
I lower my chin and study her properly this time.
And all at once, something in my chest snags.
There’s something familiar about her. Not obvious enough to place, not strong enough to make sense, but enough to make me pause.
Like I’ve seen her before. Like maybe I’ve known her before.
I tilt my head, searching her face for the answer.
The curve of her mouth. The shade of her green eyes.
The way she’s looking at me like she already knows something I don’t.
But no matter how hard I try to piece it together, I come up empty.
How do I know her?
We’ve met before.
She squirms under my gaze, her carefree expression slipping as if she doesn’t like me studying her too closely.
“Hey, have we—?”
And then, abruptly she blurts out, “I should go” and stands.
“What?” Something was happening between us, I think. Something more than casual banter, flirting and ridiculous weightlifting experiments. Something like what she was alluding to. Those romantic moments of spontaneity or whatever the fuck she said.
Dammit. Am I interested in this woman?
Before I can fully process what I’m doing, I’m standing too.
Blocking her exit path to the gym door. I stare down into her eyes, a thousand conflicting thoughts battling for priority in my head.
I shouldn’t be doing this. I don’t even know her, and beyond that, I have a new career I need to establish with the Mayhem and a daughter who needs me to be thinking much more clearly than I have been.
I fuck up relationships. It’s just a fact.
I drive women away. I’m complicated, moody, and fatally flawed to the point where I’m not sure I’ll ever be successful at getting someone to stay.
But that doesn’t stop my gaze from dropping to Bri’s lips.
They’re so soft. Pink. Perfectly shaped, with that little bow in the middle.
Somehow, I already know how they’ll feel. How they’ll taste.
My hands find her arms, and she shivers beneath my touch as my fingers trail upward, grazing over her skin until they settle on the delicate curve of her neck. I draw her closer slowly, giving her time to pull away.
She doesn’t.
Her green eyes widen, her breath hitches. And when she nods a little, that’s all the permission I need.
I dip my head, my lips brushing against hers.
Sparks ignite, heat rolling through me like a tidal wave, and then the moment my lips touch hers, she gasps—a soft, breathy sound that shoots straight through my bloodstream like a drug.
She doesn’t pull away like I thought she might.
No, she parts her mouth for me instantly, welcoming my tongue like she’s been waiting for this, like she wants this just as badly as I do.
I sweep my tongue along her bottom lip, tasting her, teasing her, and when I pull back just slightly, just enough to search her gaze and make sure I haven’t gone too far, her hands wrap around my neck.
She’s not pushing me away. She’s pulling me closer.
Dragging me into her like she needs me pressed against her every bit as much as I need her touching me.
Her soft front molds against my hard one, and something inside me snaps.
Call it the fact that humans were made to be touched and I’m about as touch deprived as a man can get or call it real chemistry.
My hands sink into her hair, fingers twisting, tugging—deepening the kiss, controlling it, owning it as our tongues tangle in a way that’s not even remotely tentative for two perfect strangers.
This isn’t cautious. It’s not testing the waters or feeling things out. This is a full-on fucking make out, raw and desperate and completely uninhibited.
I grip her waist, sliding my hands around her back, pulling her in, pinning her to me like she might disappear if I let go.
She meets me with the same urgency, kissing me like I’m air, like she’s been starving for this.
And for the first time in a while, my brain just—stops.
There are no intrusive thoughts. No worries about the future or the present. Just her. Just this.
Her hands lower, trailing fingers down my chest and cupping the front of my pants to palm my cock. My whole-body lights up with the unexpected touch. And that’s exactly when the door to the gym swings open and a throat clears, deep and unmistakably male.
Bri drops me like I’m on fire, pushing back with two palms firmly braced against my chest.
“Uh, hey Seth. Hey Brianna.”
Brianna?
I blink, still dazed as I turn to find the source of the voice—Lochlan. He’s standing in the doorway, arms crossed, taking in the very obvious scene in front of him with an expression I can’t quite place.
Brianna flicks her gaze between us, her face going a little pale. She forces a casual wave like we weren’t just two seconds away from fucking against a gym bench. Maybe she wasn’t but I was.
Lochlan’s eyes shift to her. “Uh, I think your dad’s looking for you, Bri.”
Brianna freezes. Her brows pinch, a flicker of something tense and unreadable crosses her face. She snatches her purse off the floor, suddenly avoiding my gaze like I’ve just become something she can’t even look at.
“No idea why he’d be looking for me right now,” she mumbles, more to herself than anyone else. But I hear it—the quiet bite in her voice. Whoever her dad is, she isn’t a fan.
“Hey.” My voice comes out rough as I step toward her. “Are you good?”
She shakes her head and forces a smile. “I’m fine.”
But I still don’t understand. Who’s her dad? Is he an employee? One of the many coaches the Mayhem employs? A player?
Oh—fuck—how young is she? Is she one of my new teammate’s kids?
No, there’s no way she’s that young.
She lifts her gaze to mine, and the look she gives me—the way her green eyes darken, the way her lips part like she wants to tell me more but can’t—tells me everything I need to know. She knows who I am and I’m missing something important here.
And then, just as she turns to leave, just as she shifts beneath the dim gym lights to grab her purse, I notice it. A tiny, familiar outline on her shoulder blade. A Bluebird tattoo.
My chest constricts. My stomach plummets. I draw in a breath, but there’s no air left in the room.
No. Fucking. Way.
It’s her.
She’s Harley Quinn.
My Harley Quinn.
The woman I had a one-night stand with almost a year ago. The wild redhead who strutted into my hotel room, got naked, and then wrecked me in the best way possible before disappearing into the night.
The woman whose fire I’ve dreamt about. The last woman that I’ve slept with. And the first one I think about when I get myself off.
She knew my name then and she knows it now. Did she know who I was the whole time?
“Hey,” I growl, stepping forward, reaching for her.
But she’s already moving. Ducking under Lochlan’s arm. Rushing down the hotel hallway without another glance sent my way. I lunge to follow her, but Lochlan steps in front of me, halting my momentum with one solid hand to my chest.
“Don’t go after her.”
I scowl at him. My brother might like him, but I don’t need him telling me what to do. “Why the hell not?”
He just shakes his head, sighing like he feels bad for me.
“You really don’t know who that is?” he presses.
“No. Should I?”
His mouth quirks, but there’s no humor in it. Just something bordering on sympathy.
“Yeah,” he says, patting my chest. “Yeah, you really should.”
Something uneasy curls in my stomach. “Well, then fucking tell me.”
Lochlan exhales through his nose, his smirk softening as he tilts his head, like he’s waiting for me to put it together on my own. But my brain isn’t working. Because I’m still trying to reconcile how I just made out with my one-night stand and didn’t realize it.
Harley Quinn.
Sexy librarian.
Angel food cake lover.
Buns of steel.
The woman who hip-thrusted a two-hundred-pound hockey player in a dress and heels.
Best kisser.
Best fuck of my life.
And now, the woman who just sprinted away from me like I’m a goddamn threat to her sanity.
“You should know who that is, because that’s our owner’s daughter. Caleb’s daughter.”
Silence. My thoughts all come to a screeching halt.
“What?” I whisper. Because I heard him. But I don’t understand.
He chuckles. “Yeah. Best you never talk to Bri again, man. I don’t think Caleb would be cool with knowing you were sucking her face before you hit his ice.”
And then he leaves me there. Standing in the middle of the gym, still reeling, still trying to process as my brain plays a cruel little highlight reel of the past year of my life.
The kiss. The night in my hotel room. The teasing.
The cake. The way she lifted me in this gym.
The smart mouth. The green eyes. The serendipity.
The woman I spent an entire night with naked. The woman who vanished immediately after, leaving me with nothing but an empty bed, a bruised ego, and a Bluebird tattoo burned into my memory. The woman who is, apparently, also my new team’s owner’s daughter. The woman who knew. And said nothing.
She knew. The whole time she was laughing and stealing cake and letting me bench press her in a hotel gym, she knew exactly who I was. She looked me in the eye and gave me a fake name and let me kiss her like I was something new to her.
She knew.
Fuck. Yeah. Lochlan’s right.
I’m screwed.