Chapter 5
Ford
Sitting on the sidelines wasn’t my style. Watching my team fucking around and the other center being unable to take a decent shot pissed me off. I sat on the edge of the bleachers, rocking back and forth. Every inch of skin was itching to get on the ice.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I demanded while jumping to my feet. “Hey, Stone-face, I’m talking to you.”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Tyler asked. Since the man known as the Heartthrob was just getting over the flu, he’d had limited ice time.
“Nothing except that Jack can’t shoot his way out of a paper bag.” I yelled the words loud enough, Jack spun around, skating closer then throwing up his middle finger.
“Why don’t you come down here and show me how it’s done?”
Jack wasn’t joking and certainly wasn’t in any better mood than I was.
We had four centers on the roster and Jack regularly complained I was hogging play time.
Why was that? Because I brought my A-game every time.
At least that’s what I’d led myself to believe.
He thought me arrogant. I thought him nothing but a has-been.
We weren’t a match made in heaven.
The moment I started to climb over the bleachers to get to the ice, our assistant coach appeared as if out of thin air.
While I could usually coerce Coach Reynolds into doing what I wanted, I could tell Coach Stryker had warned him I’d been difficult. He pointed to the stands where I was sitting, shaking his head.
“Come on, man. Why don’t you just follow your doctor’s advice for once,” Tyler grumbled under his breath.
“Do you have something to say, Ty?” I wasn’t angry with him.
I was furious with the world right now. My attention was momentarily drawn to the other side of the ice.
The lovely pain in the ass massage therapist was sitting by herself, a book in her hand as if the practice meant nothing.
I should check her out. Why come on board so damn late?
There had to be a story there. Besides, she was arrogant.
A deep sigh left my chest as I realized it took an egotistical bastard to recognize the behavior in someone else.
“What’s with you lately? You used to be fun to be around. I know you were injured and trust me, the entire team was ready to kill that son of a bitch who clocked you. You should have seen the brawl.”
I’d caught pictures online, the fight taking almost fifteen minutes to clear. The dude who’d boarded me was prone to using violence to sway a game, which was what pissed me off more than anything.
And because he was another shifter. There still weren’t many of us welcomed on sports teams. We were hotheaded, hot blooded, and capable of losing our temper at the drop of a hat.
According to the media anyway.
“I don’t know, man. This season just needs to finish well.” What the hell was she reading that was more important than learning about the team? Did she think she was that special?
She had her hair in a ponytail today and instead of wearing jeans and the tight tee shirt inciting filthy fantasies, she was wearing yoga pants and a sweatshirt.
Still, my mind was processing sinful images that I had no business indulging in.
Something must have made her realize I was staring at her because she lifted her head, studying me with her nose wrinkling.
With another attribute being eyesight that was one and a half times more powerful than a human in daylight, three times in the dark, I could clearly see her expression.
She was annoyed at the slight interruption and her space being invaded all while feeling the same crushing heat I’d seen and felt in her the day before.
My cock twitched all over again.
Tyler chuckled, obviously realizing what I was staring at and maybe the level of personal heat vibrating off my body. “She’s a breath of fresh air. Huh?”
I didn’t respond right away, noticing she slammed the book shut and stood, her look of irritation shifting to fury. Ah. Had I gotten under her skin? “She’s acting as if she’s going to be the deciding factor for when I can get back onto the ice.”
“Maybe you should listen to her. The coach obviously trusts her.”
“Yeah, but why?” I watched her storming out of the rink, heading to God knew where. “She’s a massage therapist, not a doctor.”
“Maybe there’s more to the story. Whatever the case, you need to listen. I don’t need to float that ego of yours toward the sky, but Jack isn’t ready to take us into the championships. We need your arm completely healed.”
I sat back, throwing my arms across the seats and staring up at the arena’s ceiling. Maybe he was right. At least I could play nice.
Until I figured out why she was really here.
For all I knew, she could be a plant. Even a journalist determined to get the perfect story on shifters.
Or worse, she could be working with the various organizations to ensure that we were blacklisted from playing sports.
Yeah, I needed to figure out her deal and soon.
And why her physical appearance was wreaking havoc with my wolf.
Maybe because of her reaction in the shower. Her expression had been priceless. She’d been lucky I hadn’t dragged her in with me.
Fifteen minutes later and I was finished with watching practice. I’d never been one to sit on the sidelines. I headed toward the back offices, resigned to the fact I’d need to deal with her before I was able to leave the building.
At least I had another life outside of hockey.
Not that I wanted to. I headed toward the massage room, needing to find out Ms. Wallace’s plans for me.
Even before I was five feet from the door, her perfume assaulted my senses.
While I’d never been the kind of man to drown in a woman’s scent, hers stimulated something in the deepest, darkest parts of me.
Whatever fragrance she was wearing needed to change.
I couldn’t walk around with a hard-on twenty-four/seven around her. If she thought she was running the show, then I would make a few demands of my own.
The moment I hit the open doorway, something else slammed into my system, an emotion that caught me completely off guard.
She was in the middle of giving another player a massage.
And the bastard was only wearing boxer shorts. What the fuck did he think he was doing? A swell of darkness oozed from every pore, my wolf scratching the surface as if requiring being allowed to come out and play.
Wait. Hold on. Was I jealous? Was that the problem here? Hell, I wasn’t even that attracted to her. Whatever the case, seeing the Dominator lying on the table, the place where I was supposed to be at this moment pissed me off as much as having her involvement on the team.
She rubbed her hands down her back, reaching his… Oh, hell no. She was not going to massage his butt.
An involuntary and very possessive growl left my throat before I could stop it. While she didn’t stop working, she lifted her head, eyeing me as if a morsel of meat she was eager to consume.
Not in a good way. There was nothing sensual or inviting about her expression whatsoever.
“Forty-five minutes, Mr. Kendrick. Come back in forty-five minutes.”
“Hey. He took my spot.” My eyes settled on her hands on his butt just as Dan turned his head, grinning in a way that told me everything I didn’t need to know.
He was enjoying the hell out of the massage.
Even grunting in pleasure like some beast in the wild.
Damn him.
Georgia didn’t miss a beat, removing her attention from me. She was dismissing me.
I remained where I was for a full two minutes until I was tossed another quick look. “Why don’t you close the door on your way out.” She wasn’t asking.
She was demanding.
Fine. I closed it alright, hard enough the entire building shook.
I paced the hallway for thirty minutes, finally retreating to the locker room to strip off my clothes. Boxer shorts, huh? Well, if she was worried about my full body wellness then by all means, I’d allow her to rub her hands all over every inch of my body at will.
With a towel wrapped around me, I clocked my time, making it to the room in exactly forty-five minutes.
The door was open, the Dominator nowhere to be seen. But Georgia was perched on a stool in the corner. What was she doing? Reading?
I don’t know why seeing her taking time for herself bothered me. I had no right to feel anything. She wasn’t on the clock other than when required to give a massage. But I ended up lashing out before I knew what I was doing.
“Let me guess. Some romance novel? A hot alpha male claiming some helpless female who ends up doing anything he commands? Is that what you like?”
She read at least another two paragraphs before sliding a bookmark into place and closing the book. From where she sat, I couldn’t make out the title but was determined to find out.
While shifters could usually only read minds with others in our own species, I didn’t need to be a genius or to have extreme abilities to know what she was thinking.
Or maybe planning.
“How interesting that the men with the smallest dicks are the ones with the biggest mouths. On the table, Mr. Kendrick. And go ahead and close the door. I wouldn’t want anyone to interrupt us. Would you?”
Oh, she had an edge to her voice that created another and entirely different set of emotions. However, instead of pressing the issue, I closed the door like she asked, immediately stripping off the towel wrapped around my waist.
Her eyes flickered in both annoyance and appreciation from seeing my naked body as she’d done the day before. Her expression and the lingering of her heated gaze was a sweet enough reward for her earlier comment.
“On my stomach, or would you prefer to start with the front where my true muscles need a little manipulation?”
Every step methodical, she closed the distance between us. The book remained in her hand, turned so I was able to catch the title.