The Billionaire and the Bride (Elite Eagles Legacy #1)

Prologue

“You’re looking hot tonight, Ms. Johansson.” Leon throws me a compliment as he sidles up to the bar.

I roll my eyes, pretending to be annoyed by this back-and-forth flirty banter we constantly do.

Deep down, I secretly love it, and he knows it; otherwise, he wouldn’t do it.

He tracks my every move, watching me lift my glass to my lips as I take a sip of my drink to hide my amusement.

“Are you not going to return the compliment and tell me how good my ass looks in these pants?”

Laughter filters out of my mouth as he twirls, lifting his jacket to flash me his tight behind. I’m so jealous of those pants that hug him perfectly.

I tear my eyes away from his ass and smack my lips together.

“No,” I reply, setting my glass down on the bar, looking straight ahead, and steering us away from any coquettish conversation.

“You and Buster did a fantastic job with the place. I love it.” I survey the cleverly designed space.

Both professional hockey players, like my brother, Leon, and Buster, live and breathe the game and love all sports.

Opening a sports bar called Home the girl he can’t have because if he touched me, my older brother, Ash, would chop him into tiny pieces and serve him for dinner. But in my mind, Leon is all I ever wanted. Not that he knows that. Nobody does.

I swear, if Ash hadn’t warned every member of the Edmonton Eagles—the NHL team he plays for—off me, Leon would have asked me out on a date as soon as I turned eighteen.

I would love nothing more than a date with Leon. Dinner, strolling through Jasper Park, holding hands under the moonlight… but for me, that will only ever be a dream. It’s frustrating how protective my brother is of me. I understand why, but it also pisses me off.

“You are looking so fucking hot tonight in those leather pants, Erika.”

“So, you said,” I deadpan, “but I don’t think I’m the one making this place hot. The opening night of your new bar is packed with sexy women, Leon. I’m sure you’ll find someone to take home.” Someone who isn’t me.

Jealousy quietly aches inside me, gnawing like a hungry, wild animal.

“I would like to take you home tonight, Erika.”

“Keep dreaming.” A long sigh leaves the back of my throat.

“I dream about you all the time,” he says, sounding serious.

The heat from his stare warms my cheeks. “Sure you do,” I drawl, waving him off and pretending to be bored by this game we play, when really, I just want him to say more things that give me false hope because I’m a sucker for punishment.

“You don’t believe me?” he asks, his eyes widening, appearing genuinely surprised that I think he’s lying.

“Nope.” I shake my head.

According to the hockey blogs I read online, Leon has a new girl every week.

I’m not sure how much of it I believe, but there’s probably some truth to it.

The puck bunnies sure do like to brag in the forums, but I, for one, can’t imagine sleeping with that many hockey players. Or men, for that matter.

Since I started studying my undergrad program to get me into med school here in Edmonton, I’ve only been with one guy: the one I lost my virginity to. It was over within minutes, painful, and didn’t end with the life-changing orgasm I had hoped for, which is why I haven’t done it again.

I wish I had saved myself for the person my heart belongs to.

Specifically, Leon, the man my brother has spent years trying to keep me away from because he’s a ladies’ man, but I can’t stop thinking about him.

Like an untrained golden retriever, he’s an adorable rogue who’s funny and annoying in equal parts, and yet, there isn’t a single thing I would change about him.

Although, him being anything other than a hockey player would be easier, because at least then I might stand a chance.

Pah… who am I kidding?

For Ash, flirting crosses the line, and if he ever found out how much happens between us, he might fulfill his promise and break Leon’s legs.

Lust burns in my brain when Leon leans in, and all I can think about is what his lips would taste like on mine. Then, he whispers into my ear, “What if I told you that I’ve dreamed about what I would like to do to you?”

Is he being serious? I can never tell.

I step back, my annoyance growing by the second, because how long can we keep doing this?

These I-pretend-to-want-you-to-tease-you exchanges are becoming not only frustrating but also, the last few times, I’ve almost said, ‘fuck it’ and kissed his tempting mouth just to shut him up.

It would be interesting to see how he’d react.

I think he would switch from lion to lamb pretty fast, I think.

Something I also do around him.

Every time I know I’m going to see him, I have all these ideas in my head about what I want to say, determined to tell him how I feel about him, but when the moment arrives, my mind goes blank, and my inner coward wins.

Maybe it’s his good looks that leave me speechless because, no joke, with each strike of midnight on the clock, Leon becomes increasingly more handsome.

His shoulder-length blond wavy hair constantly makes me want to run my hands through it and mess it up badly.

Those lips of his are too tempting for their own good, and what I wouldn’t do to taste them.

Just once. Maybe twice. But once might be enough.

Then maybe, just perhaps, it would stop this stupid, crazy obsession I have with him and finally get him out of my system.

I exaggerate a sigh as if I’m pissed off with him. Part of me is, while the other is bone-deep tired.

Exhaustion from lack of sleep from studying my ass off for my exams next week is beginning to take its toll.

I’m cranky and not in the mood for Leon’s verbal sparring session tonight.

Although the sadist inside me is enjoying it too, and that’s what makes me ask, “So, tell me about one of these dreams, Leon?” I’m a sucker for punishment and asking for trouble.

He looks around first before his shocking green eyes stare me down through a fan of blond eyelashes. “One of them…”

“One of them?” I exclaim.

“Yes, I’ve had lots.” He grins wickedly, looking hotter than the devil himself.

Thankfully, he’s blissfully unaware of the heat between my legs that is going into a nuclear meltdown, causing my panties to disintegrate into ash. The ache is so painful; I know only one cure for it.

Leon.

He starts again. “One of the dreams was about us being stuck on a desert island together.”

“And don’t tell me, I was in a bikini, we hated each other, then slowly we became friends, and after a few months, the sexual tension became too much, and we fucked each other’s brains out.

” How predictable. I think he’s toying with me, but that’s something I’m still trying to figure out because this back-and-forth thing we do is confusing. I never know where I stand with him.

Does he like me, or does he just enjoy teasing me?

I believe it’s the latter.

He lifts his finger and wiggles it at me, then bops the end of my nose like we’re friends. Which we are. That’s all we are.

Leon tries his best to hide his amusement, but he fails and throws me a megawatt smile that could light up all of Edmonton during a power cut. “It’s like you were there, baby.”

Baby.

He adds, “I knew you had the same dreams about me.”

Mr. Off Limits is clearly feeling extra cocky tonight.

“Every night,” I reply pokerfaced, even though I’m bursting to tell him I think about him touching me every time I use my vibrator, and I have since I was eighteen.

I truly need to move on from Leon Hill. It’s not only unhealthy, but it’s also preventing me from trying to date. The sad truth is, we will never be more than just good friends.

While my brother would say Leon is his best friend, I’m sure that Leon and I are closer and spend more time together.

Leon shows up at my dorm not just once or twice, but sometimes three times a week to take me out to dinner, worried that I’m not eating a healthy, balanced diet.

On those nights, it always feels like he never wants them to end and stretches out our time together, sharing every part of his week with me, and then has me tell him everything about my classes.

I live for those nights, and I’m kind of obsessed with them.

Leon’s face turns serious, the lump between his brows deepening. “Have you ever thought about us, Erika?”

“Thought about us, how?” I act dumb.

“Being together.”

Every day. “Never.” That lie comes easily to me because I’ve been hiding my feelings for him ever since I first saw him. I was only seventeen, but I remember it like it was yesterday.

The moment he skated onto the ice for his first Edmonton Eagle game and winked at me, my heart ignited.

When I turned eighteen, my fixation grew into something I had no control over. Three years later, my obsession persists.

It’s painful.

Awful, really.