Chapter 3
MAREK
Is it awkward seeing Nikki the next day, after that scorching hot kiss and then her ditching me? Yeah. Fuck, yeah.
I spent an uncomfortable night replaying our entire interaction, fantasizing about her, and yeah, jerking off.
She comes on the ice with us in the warmup looking cute as a bug’s ear in leggings and a big jersey, skating around with a stick, shooting the puck in the net, and laughing. Why does seeing her like this make her so much hotter? I was already obsessed with her.
She catches my eye and flashes me a sly grin, then sends the puck sliding across the ice in my direction.
I catch it and send it back, and we spend a few minutes passing the puck back and forth.
I laugh like a loon and the awkwardness is gone.
I skate over to her and rub my big glove on top of her head. “Sleep okay?”
“No.” She anchors her gaze to mine. “I slept like crap.”
I cock my head. “Me, too.”
I break the connection because the heat rising under my equipment could melt the ice beneath us and take off with the puck on my blade.
Team Kharchenko is up first, playing against Team Street. The stands are full of fans. Nikki’s behind the bench, cheering us on, praising us when we do something good.
“Good stick out there,” she tells D-man Hobbs, and when I assist on a goal she says, “Great one-timer for the tip in.”
It’s funny and cute, but also smart and I give her a big grin before sitting on the bench. This is more fun than I expected.
This isn’t a normal game; the intermission is actually a break between two games.
This is when Nikki sings and we all stay on the ice to watch her.
They set up a low stage on the ice with a lot of lights and I marvel at how fast and efficient they are.
And this is probably nothing compared to a real concert.
She comes out on stage with her long hair down from the ponytail she wore earlier and she’s still wearing a hockey jersey, but holy hell, it’s a different jersey, like a dress, fitted to her curves and short enough that it barely covers her ass.
She bounces around the stage in white sneakers, her legs toned and shiny. And she sings.
I watch and listen in fascination to the few songs she performs, dancing with two backup dancers who look great but not as great as her.
At least I have an excuse to stare at her right now.
Everyone’s staring at her. And it’s over too soon.
She finishes with an explosive music chord, flashing lights, and a burst of smoke, throwing her hair back and thrusting her arms in the air.
The applause fills the arena and I look around at the other players as we all clap for her. My hands hurt from clapping so hard. I can’t believe I got to see her perform live. Amazing.
The rest of the evening is a blur as the other teams take the ice. I do interviews and watch the other game, keeping an eye out for Nikki.
I never asked if she’s staying here in Vegas tonight as well. Maybe she had to leave? I was disappointed last night, but I knew I’d see her again today. But we’ve been surrounded by people and part of the event. Dammit.
There’s an after-party in one of the hotel bars when everything winds down. We make our way there in our suits, attracting attention from others in the hotel who are taking pictures and watching us.
Last night we were in the sports bar, which was smaller and quieter.
Tonight it’s Club Myriad, with two levels, VIP suites, and blue, purple and gold LED ribbon lights that pulse to the rhythm of the music.
The party is in a big private suite and we mill around the lobby area waiting to be shown there.
Security eyes us up and down with suspicious looks.
Do they think we’re some kind of organized crime gang?
When I turn around, Nikki’s there, with the guys and also her backup dancers, and she’s watching me. The hostess starts to lead the way in.
“Hi, diva.” I stop in front of Nikki and our eyes meet.
“Diva?” She blinks at me, but then we’re all moving, marching behind the hostess.
We’re shown to the upper-level suite overlooking the crowded dance floor.
It’s a relief to step inside where there’s space and the music is muted.
People are already there, sitting in leather chairs and couches, others standing to talk, and there are multiple bottles of vodka and tequila that apparently are included with the suite.
Nikki introduces her dancers to some of the guys—Tiana, with smooth dark brown skin and long black hair in twists; and Lita, with brown skin lighter than Tiana’s, her hair a short choppy style in a deep shade of purplish-red and lips to match.
Many of the guys are circling around Nikki’s friends, flirting.
Jesus. I hope they don’t get gross with the women.
But the two women seem to be having fun.
And who am I to talk as I stare lustfully at Nikki.
She’s talking to Chase Hart from ESPN. I take in her new outfit—a short black sequined mini skirt that shows off her incredible legs again.
Apparently Nikki’s legs are my new fetish.
Her white T-shirt with a black and red ladybug on it is short, so when she moves, she sometimes reveals a strip of smooth skin above the waistband of the skirt.
I like that, too. I even like the chunky black Doc Martens on her feet.
I don’t like the way Chase Hart is looking at her.
I toss back a mouthful of vodka, standing a little to the side, silent, feeling like Sasquatch in a suit. Nikki glances my way a few times. I don’t make a move. She turned me down last night. Finally, she leaves Chase and approaches me. “Hey.”
“Hey. Good show you put on. You were great.”
“Thanks.” She runs her tongue over her plump bottom lip. Her gaze tours over my face, lingering on my mouth.
After a long, charged moment of staring at each other, I say, “I wasn’t sure if you were still here.”
“Oh. Yeah. We leave tomorrow.” She sips her drink.
“Same. Where are you off to?”
“Los Angeles. I have a couple of events and we’re recording.”
She’s heading to the opposite coast from where I’ll be.
“Not back to New York.”
“No. Not right now. I’m back and forth a lot. But…” She smiles. “New York is home.”
“When will you be there?”
“Hmmm.” She looks to the ceiling, thinking. “I’m not sure. I think April?”
“Jesus.” That’s months away.
“Yeah.” She tips her head. “Will you be in L.A.?”
“We play there in March, I think.”
She nods slowly.
“Would you give me your number?”
A smile tugs her lips. “Yes.”
I pull out my phone and enter her number into my contacts. Then I send her a text message with a hockey stick emoji.
She peers at her phone and laughs. “Thanks.”
Like last night, we seem to have an invisible force field around us that deters others from talking to us.
Everyone else is laughing, tossing back drinks, and Lita is dancing to the music, sipping a cocktail.
And Nikki and I are here in our own little bubble, having gravitated to a corner of the room.
“I never did get to see all the muscle you claim is under your clothes,” Nikki remarks.
Is she flirting? What does this mean? “That’s because you bailed on me.”
“For what it’s worth… I did have regrets.” She peers up at me from beneath her eyelashes. She’s still wearing a lot of makeup from her show—thick mascara and lots of dark smoky eyeshadow. It’s sexy as fuck.
“Yeah?”
She dips her head in agreement. “Too bad we can’t go back in time.”
“We can’t.” I pause. “But sometimes you get a do-over.”
Her eyes widen and the corners of her lips lift. “Yeah. Sometimes. When I’m recording and I don’t get something right, I do it again.”
My head slowly moves up and down. “Are we doing this?”
“I want to.”
Fuck, yeah. I swallow a ball of sawdust. Is this really happening?
“I shouldn’t, though.”
Fuuuuuck.
She doesn’t say that with a lot of conviction.
“Why not?” I ask.
She drops her gaze to inspect her toes. “I need to stay focused.”
I shift an inch closer. “Focused on what?”
“My career.” She lifts her eyes to meet mine.
“You can’t take one night off… for some fun?” I murmur.
She blinks and scrunches up her face.
“Life is short,” I add softly. “Have fun. Fuck hard. Play harder. Do things that make you happy.”
Her lips kick up into a smile. “That is not how I live my life.”
“Maybe you should.”
She holds my gaze for a beat, then lifts one shoulder. “Maybe I should.”
Holy shit. “Okay, then. Let’s go.” I check out the room. Nobody else is paying any attention to us. Except… my eyes meet Tiana’s. She gives me an enigmatic look across the suite. “Your friend is watching out for you.”
“Tiana.” She doesn’t even look.
“Yeah.”
“We do that for each other. She’s a good friend.” She unlocks her phone and taps in a message.
I watch Tiana check her phone. Her lips twist into a half-smile. She types in her reply.
“Your room,” Nikki says softly. “Okay?”
My tongue is too big in my mouth for me to speak, so I nod.
“What’s your room number?” she prompts me gently.
“Uh.” I don’t even know my fucking name right now. I rub the back of my head. Think, man. “Twelve oh eight.”
She sends another message. I meet Tiana’s eyes again and she raises her eyebrows at me. I dip my head to her in understanding. In a promise. Nikki will be safe with me.
“Okay, let’s go.” Nikki sets her empty glass on a table and I add mine, then settle my hand on the small of her back to usher her out of the room. I don’t check to see if anyone sees us leave together. If they do, they’ll think we’re going to dance.
We are definitely going to dance. The devil’s dance. Mattress dance. Do the horizontal mambo. I chuckle.
Nikki slides me a look as we leave the club. “What’s so funny?”
I swipe a hand over my face. “Nothing.”