Chapter Seven
Denis
It was September, and I was so fucking bored. Preseason started in a few days, and I couldn’t wait.
There were only so many hours in the day I could exercise, and I saw my therapist, but I remained restless.
I visited Gil, but he had his own routine, and I couldn’t simply hang around there all day.
I had read all the books I’d wanted to and had satisfied all my promotional contracts for the month.
It was five a.m., and for the past twenty minutes I’d tossed and turned.
The sun hadn’t even risen, yet I knew what my day would be like: breakfast, exercise, checking with my agent about any trade rumors, then going through social media to see what was being said about me.
I’d spent yesterday at a children’s hospital ward, followed by a hockey summer camp at Chelsea Piers, and had a blast. I did love the kids—they were so pure and sweet.
I wanted to protect them from everything ugly that waited for them out in the world. Yeah, I had a soft spot for children.
I was restless as hell, and when that happened, I did stupid things. Before I knew what I was doing, I’d gathered up my things and called for a car. Next stop, Central Park.
It was barely six, and the sun had finished rising like a glowing copper penny up from the East River to chase away the faint lavender haze of dawn.
I sipped from my ice-cold water bottle, drops of condensation wetting my hand.
My skin felt clammy from humidity, and I rubbed my neck, longing for fall and winter.
Snow and ice. The rush of skaters barreling at me, trying to defeat me.
The fans cheering. I needed hockey. It fed my empty soul.
The car dropped me off at an entrance on Central Park West. Now…
if I were an obnoxious, introverted asshole, where would I go to exercise?
I slid my shades over my eyes and began to walk, scanning faces as I passed.
Finding a path, I began a light jog toward the Reservoir.
It was relatively early still, but already people who had been away from the city all summer had come trickling home.
Sweat slicked my neck, and I twisted my hair up in a bun.
Every year I contemplated cutting it but never did.
I liked it a little long. And guys did too.
I enjoyed a little pleasure-pain when they tugged on it as we rolled around on the bed.
Although now that I thought about it, I hadn’t had sex in months. No wonder I was cranky.
I rounded the curve and saw him. He was stretching on the side, hadn’t yet begun to run. Taut thigh muscles and a firm ass pulled tight under thin jogging shorts. The cut of his biceps gleamed with a light coating of sweat.
Mmm…
I ran up behind him. “Bonjour. Comment ca va?”
As I’d anticipated, Sterling jumped and gave me his outraged face. “Wh-what’re you doing here?” he sputtered.
“Exercising. I need to keep up my cardio activities. Preseason begins in a few days.” I jogged in place and read mistrust in those narrowed blue eyes.
“Why are you in Manhattan and in Central Park? You live in Brooklyn.”
“Really, Sterling, how long have you lived here? Don’t you know real New Yorkers call it the city? You’re a news anchor. You need to at least act like you’re of the people in the city you’re reporting about.”
“God, you’re an ass.”
My grin broadened, and I glanced behind me. “It is one of my better features. After my eyes.” I batted my lashes.
“I have to go.” And he took off.
I caught up to him easily, and we jogged in silence for five minutes before he spoke.
“Why are you here? You never answered me.”
“I told you. I’m exercising. I got bored with my usual runs, so I decided to come here.” I winked at him, knowing I’d get a reaction. “The scenery is prettier.”
His neck turned red. Good to know he wasn’t immune to my teasing.
“Not from my perspective. There’s all this hot air around me.”
Ahhh, nice to see he could give as well as take. I liked it.
“Was that an attempt at a joke?”
“I saw you smile,” he responded with a slight upward tilt of his lips.
“Didn’t you miss me? It’s been a few months.”
“Were you gone? I hadn’t noticed.”
We pounded the pavement, and he easily kept up with me.
“You wound me, mon ami. Here I thought we were friends.”
“You’re ridiculous. We barely know each other.
” That scowl I’d come to expect thinned his lips.
Why did I enjoy pushing his buttons so much?
I had my pick of men—all I had to do was go out to a club, and I was bombarded with hands, mouths, and tongues.
No shortage of guys wanting to fuck a champion.
Instead, I focused on this hard-ass, somewhat rude, straitlaced man who sent out mixed signals.
He might be the same in bed—stiff and unyielding.
Afraid to let go. But I’d lay bets that if he was freed, he’d be a wild man.
The most uptight men usually were after shedding their skin.
I wanted to be the one to unlock his chains.
“Hey, you’re Denis Bouvier from the Blades. Can’t wait for the season to start.” Fist-pumping, a couple of men ran past us.
“Me too. Make sure you come by to support us.” I eyed Sterling. “Don’t forget.”
He rolled his eyes and jogged away. We did the loop, then began another circuit.
By this time, the sun had decided to fully grace us with its presence, and both our shirts and shorts were soaked through with sweat, but I wouldn’t stop before Sterling.
He darted a look over at me as we continued to run, his jaw hard, face tight.
I knew he wouldn’t give up, and I wanted to see how long he could last.
At the last check of my watch, we’d been running for an hour and ten minutes. I had to admire his stamina. Though our training conditioned us for endurance, I wasn’t sure many of my teammates could keep this level of activity up, especially in the heat.
Panting heavily, he finally slowed, and I shortened my stride, coming to a stop the same time he did.
He walked off the path and put his head between his legs, bracing his hands on his thighs, giving me a perfect view of his beautiful ass.
I might have been winded, but I wasn’t dead.
Even smelly and dripping with sweat, he was fucking gorgeous. Of course, I’d never tell him that.
He glanced over his shoulder and caught me looking. I grinned and received a world-class glare in return.
“How are you not breathing hard?”
“Training. Lots and lots of training. I’ve told you, this kind of perfection takes hard work to maintain.” I smirked, and he rolled his eyes and shook his head.
“Do you ever stop?”
“Stop what?” I checked my watch. “Should we get breakfast? All this running made me hungry.”
Sterling pushed a sweaty hank of hair out of his face.
“I have breakfast at home before I go to the office. I can’t go to a restaurant like this.
I need to shower.” With those words, he walked away toward the park exit, and I followed.
When we were walking up Central Park West, he stopped. “Why are you following me?”
“I’m not. You asked me to come to breakfast at your apartment.”
His dark brows flew up. “I did not.”
“You did. I said we should get something to eat, and you distinctly told me, ‘I have breakfast at home.’”
“For me, you idiot. Not you.”
I pouted. “That’s not very nice.” I nudged his shoulder. “It’s only breakfast. Come on. A bagel. A little schmear.”
His lips twitched, reluctantly, it seemed. “Schmear? Where’d you pick that up?”
I snickered. “My agent. He’s teaching me all kinds of fun words.”
“I don’t have bagels. They’re pure carbohydrates and not healthy for you.”
At least he hadn’t said no outright. “So what do you eat in the morning?”
“Homemade granola, plain yogurt, chia seeds, wheat germ, and cold-pressed juice.”
I repressed a shudder of disgust. “Sounds…good to me. I’m in.”
Sterling continued to walk with me on his heels. “You’re not going to leave me alone, are you?” I fluttered my eyelashes, and he huffed with annoyance. “God, you’re a pain in the ass.” My smile broadened. “Fine. Come in. Whatever.”
We stopped in front of one of those imposing buildings on the park always featured on television. A doorman opened the entrance, and the concierge greeted Sterling.
“Mr. Forest, hot day out there.”
“It is, Leon.”
“Bonjour,” I said, and Leon’s eyes grew wide. “Wait. Whoa. You’re…Denis Bouvier. The hockey player.”
“C’est moi,” I responded with a flourish, noticing Sterling’s wince.
“Looking forward to the season starting.”
“As am I.” Sterling had left me and waited by the elevators. “I’d best be leaving.” We went up, and it wasn’t until we entered the apartment that he spoke to me.
“Don’t you ever get tired of people recognizing you and talking about hockey all the time?”
Astonished, I cocked my head. “Why would I? It’s my job, and I’m a sports figure in New York City.
The biggest media market in the world. Of course people will recognize me.
I don’t mind. In fact, if they didn’t, I’d be worried.
” I plucked the sticky shirt from my chest. “Do you mind if I take that shower? I don’t want to sit on your furniture smelling like this. ”
For the first time that morning, a genuine smile lit his face, and I let its warmth soak into me. It had been a long time since I’d seen it, and I’d almost forgotten how it transformed him from good-looking to stunning.
“That would be a disaster. But I’m not sure I have any clothing big enough for you.”
“Don’t you have a washer and dryer? Just throw them in while we eat breakfast.”
“Fine. I’ll get you a towel.”
“Make sure it’s big enough.” I winked. “I usually use the extra-large size.”
“Obviously. You need it for your swollen ego.” He opened a door in the hallway, took out a large white towel, and tossed it to me.
“Thanks.” I pulled the shirt over my head and bent to peel the socks off my feet. Sterling retreated to the kitchen, giving me his back while I stepped out of my shorts.
“You know, you could go to the bathroom to undress instead of giving my neighbors a free show.”
“You have peeping Toms in this fancy building? Besides, I’m used to it.
In the locker room we’re naked all the time.
” I wrapped the towel around my waist. “It’s safe to look now.
” He turned, and I picked up my clothes from the floor.
With a snicker, I let the towel slip a little, flashing my naked butt.
“Denis,” he growled.
“What? I can’t help it. My hands are full. The towel can only hide so much.”
“Bathroom is that way. Give me your things, and I’ll put them in the wash.”
He took them from me, keeping them at arm’s length.
“How many bedrooms?”
“Two, and two bathrooms. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to shower as well.”
He shut the door to his bedroom in my face, and I went to get cleaned up.
When I came out, I heard the water running, so I decided to do a little snooping and entered his bedroom.
As expected, his bedroom was as organized and sterile as a hospital room and just as inviting.
White sheets, plain gray comforter. No pictures on the nightstands or on the walls. Just a large television.
A file sat on top of his bureau, and I knew I should have walked away and not looked, but I never did the things I should.
Dahlia Dumont.
My brow furrowed. Why was Sterling investigating the movie star Dahlia Dumont?
The water stopped. I should’ve left and waited for him in the living room, but I didn’t move.
Completely naked, he stepped into the bedroom and froze. “What the hell are you doing in my bedroom?” he spat at me and ran back into the bathroom, grabbed a towel, and covered himself. “You have no right to be in here.”
“Maybe I wanted to see where the magic happens.”
“Go away.”
“I’m hungry. You promised me breakfast, and you know that’s the most important meal of the day.
” As I spoke, I moved across the room to stand in front of him.
Blue eyes wide, chest heaving, cheeks burning red.
“Although there are other things I like in my mouth first thing in the morning.” He blinked but didn’t move.
My fingers slid across the edge of the towel, dipping beneath, reaching to touch him.
“Should I show you?” His breath caught, and I gave a tug—and found myself shoved so hard, I tripped backward on the bed.
“I said go away. Get out of my bedroom.”
Unwilling to be at a disadvantage, I scrambled to my feet and met him nose-to-nose. “You’re a tease. You can’t make up your mind whether you want to kiss me or punch me.”
Heat blazed from his eyes, but I had no idea if it was anger or lust. “Trust me, I have no desire to kiss you.”
“You invited me here.”
A harsh bark of laughter escaped him. “Invited is a warped way of looking at it. You bullied your way into having breakfast with me, and now you’re stalking me in my bedroom. Are you that hard up for sex? They have people you can pay to take care of your problem. I’m sure you know all about that.”
“Sex isn’t a problem. And for your information, I’ve never had to pay for sex. Usually it’s the opposite for me. So many men, so little time.”
“Pardon me while I get ill.” He tightened his grip on the towel. “Do you mind leaving so I can get dressed? I found some clothes that should fit you.” He grabbed them from the chair in the corner and tossed them to me. “Here. You can use the bathroom to change.”
“No need for that.” I deliberately let my towel drop and put the shirt on first, giving him an eyeful of my naked body, including my dick, which had grown hard during our argument. I always did like a little push and pull. It got my juices flowing.
But when I yanked the shirt down over my head, I found myself alone.
“Spoilsport. Just when it was getting fun.”
I finished dressing and gave one last glance to that file on the bureau.
What connection did Sterling Forest the news anchor have with Dahlia Dumont, one of the most famous movie actresses in Hollywood?
And how the hell did a local news anchor afford an apartment in one of the most expensive neighborhoods in the world?