Chapter 1 #2
I’d been nice for once, curtailing my aggression. The dude wasn’t injured, just furious because if the Jag did his job, I’d just stolen the win.
Maybe resting on my laurels hadn’t been the best move.
With no penalties, the game resumed and as soon as I was ready to pass the puck off to Jagger, Drake hauled ass toward me.
What the fuck did he think he was doing?
With no hesitation, he delivered an illegal check that pitched me into the boards, the bone-crunching maneuver creating a thunderous impact, the glass shuddering.
Before I could even push myself off the ice, Drake was in my face.
In a blur of motion, we both shed our gloves, the leather landing softly on the scarred ice.
We grabbed each other’s jerseys, knuckles white, and began to trade wild, thudding blows.
The crowd erupted into a deafening, unified roar.
It was a desperate, swinging grapple on slick blades, ending only when Drake caught a skate in a rut and tumbled backward, taking me down with him.
The wind knocked from my lungs, I fell forward onto the ice.
Chaos had already ensued, players grabbing sweaters, the leverage allowing brutal punches to be thrown. Somehow, I heard the roar of the crowd and sensed everyone was on their feet.
When linesmen finally pulled us apart, the referee already screaming obscenities for the disruption, Drake stared me down as if the shit had been my fault.
He lunged toward me again, this time caught by members of his own team, one guy shoving him toward the penalty box.
With my chest heaving and nursing bruised knuckles, I headed to the box as well so the ref could sort out the penalties.
In the end, I was allowed to return to play. Why I wouldn’t question, but the Blackhawks’ coach might. I sensed Miller throwing a fit as we regrouped, although Jagger was none too happy for the interruption. Game on.
The clock ticked down and Jagger had the puck, sweeping back and forth as he headed for the net. I also had to give the man credit where credit was due. He could fake it to make it with the best of them.
The opposing team’s goalie hadn’t stood a chance in hell, the puck flying into the center of the net.
And that’s how a game was won.
Along with a butterfly kiss from my guardian angel.
Jagger was rarely emotional, his expression always pinched, but at least this time after the win, he offered a high five as the rest of the team jumped all over each other like Neanderthals. This wasn’t a championship game, but damn it, they were acting like it was.
Their glee, while obnoxious, was catching and I found myself whooping and growling like some beast in the wild while lifting my stick. Yeah, we were real tough guys alright. That’s what the chicks loved, alpha dudes.
According to my sister. As of late, Samantha had taken it upon herself to offer me dating advice, insisting she was responsible for my other brother Beck hooking up with his girlfriend Sloane.
Or maybe they were engaged. I couldn’t tolerate the lovey-dovey crap from either brother.
They’d turned into something I didn’t recognize any longer.
Two whipped pups instead of big, strong alpha wolves.
Backing away from the motley crew, I scanned the arena one last time in hopes of catching sight of her. Nope. My luck had run out.
I snorted from the thought and headed to the locker room.
Tonight, I’d indulge in a couple of drinks.
There was a lot of time to go in the season, but I sensed we were headed for the playoffs.
Instead of going over plays in my mind that had taken a miracle to pull off, my thoughts drifted to the girl all over again.
Man, what I wouldn’t give to have one drink with her so I could stare into her eyes.
That wasn’t exactly the truth. What I’d really like would be to have her writhing under me.
Or straddling me. Or we could do it up against the wall.
I couldn’t remember if I’d ever had sex that way.
Anything she wanted, including the use of my long tongue feasting on her sweetness was fine by me.
Hell, now I was rock hard and had to find a way to calm down. The way she’d looked in the dark skirt had pushed every button in my body. Somehow, with her sweet voice alone, she’d managed to snag a tiger by the tail.
The coach suddenly appeared, his signature headshake telling me all I needed to know. “Do I need to ask what the hell was that about?”
“You gotta ask the San Diego center about that, Coach. I was minding my own business.” I involuntarily rubbed my knuckles and the coach lifted his eyebrows.
“Uh-huh. You know what, Kendrick? You’re just like your brother. And trust me. That’s not necessarily a compliment.”
Ford had played for the same team, causing his share of trouble. However, both Ford and Beck had made it to the NHL, so there was something special in our blood. Right? And not only the excessive use of force as social media liked to call us out on.
I took a deep breath as the coach walked away, strangely enough wondering if the beautiful girl had seen me in action. Yeah, if she had she’d probably be scared off by now. I snorted and continued walking down the corridor.
“Great job out there,” someone called.
I waved in response just as a couple of girls somehow managed to push their way through security.
Or maybe given they were wearing skimpy cheerleading outfits, the guards had allowed them access.
They squealed when they noticed me, rushing forward.
White short-shorts, red blouses exposing delicious, ample breasts, and both with long legs made to wrap around a man’s waist, they were every hockey player’s fantasy.
Just not mine.
“Oh, it’s the Rebel,” one cooed, already raking her long nails down my arm.
“I think he’s more of a hunter. One big, strong… beast.”
“I wonder what he’s hunting tonight. What if we ran into the forest and hid from you? Would you chase us?”
The other giggled. “Just like Little Red Riding Hood.”
“Howdy, girls,” I said in response. “Like the game?” A hunter. Hell, that sounded like a lot of fun right about now.
“Uh-huh,” the blonde tossed out. “But we’ll let you in on a little secret. We like you a lot more.” Another giggle. Another stroke of long fingers only this time on my chest.
I noticed Bart, one of two security guards huffing as he headed in our direction.
“Uh-oh,” the dark-haired girl mused. “We’re going to be tossed out. Could we get a picture with such a hottie? Pretty please?”
“When you ask so nicely, how could I resist? I wouldn’t be a gentleman then. Would I?”
Another squeal, this time in my ear. While there was nothing like being sandwiched between two hot women, one was a little handsy while the other took the picture. At least they’d have something positive to take with them when they were tossed out.
“Ladies. Come on. Let’s go. Sorry about that, Mr. Kendrick,” Bart chided. The roll of his eyes brought a chuckle. I had to wonder how many women he’d dragged from the various events.
After a wave and a jiggle of their backsides, the girls dutifully followed Bart’s orders.
Well, until Cujo rounded the corner. Now their squeals were deafening.
I headed down the corridor, noticing Jagger was being hounded by a couple of reporters.
With making the winning goal and how photogenic he was, Jag was the obvious choice for the team’s poster boy on social media and in the news.
The corners of my mouth twitched as I pushed my way into the locker room, heading to my stall.
Given the lurid images running through my mind, thoughts that rivaled one hell of a kinky guy’s appetite, I should be ashamed of myself.
I didn’t know the girl. She could be married with five kids for all I knew, which meant my desires were totally uncool.
However, a man enduring such a hard-on was allowed a little leeway when thinking about a hot stranger. Hmmm… I could envision folding her over my Harley and fucking her like a wild animal.
Classy, dude. Real classy.
Who knows. Maybe she liked it a little rough around the edges, enjoying a more predatory style of romance. Well, if not, she’d be out of luck since that’s the only type this red-blooded boy could tolerate.