2. Erik
Payton is drivingme to the brink of madness.
Officially, she heads the Snowhawks’ social media department. But everyone knows the truth. Payton Lawson is the soul of the team, walking a constant tightrope between the suits and the jerseys.
She keeps all the plates spinning and every gear in motion. Keeping seats full, keeping fans happy, keeping Kai out of jail— she makes it all look effortless. Payton spends eight hours a day making miracles happen. She’s talented, brilliant, and driven.
She’s also drop-dead gorgeous.
Nearly six feet tall in her skates, Payton could pass for a runway model— or a Viking Queen.
Her platinum hair falls in choppy, angular layers to the defined spear of her collarbone. She has a heart-shaped face, dominated by a pair of eyes so wide and dark a man could get lost in them forever. An erratic spray of golden freckles bridges her nose, catching in the bright overhead stadium lights like fairy dust.
Payton is devastatingly beautiful. She’s also strong, striking, and sarcastic. She’s an intoxicating mixture of femininity and ferocity— independent, generous, and sexy as fuck.
“You ready, Nordstrom?” She bats her eyelashes at me with exaggerated innocence. “I’ve been dying to get you all to myself— on the ice. I can’t wait to see what you’ve really got. ”
The woman is infuriating, and it only makes me want her more. Her relentless stubborn streak and hot temper would be enough to break a weaker man. I recognize the wildfire in Payton. It’s the same one that burns in me.
She’ll never break me, but fuck do I want her to try.
Payton looks up at me with eyes like midnight. A dozen wicked dares dance behind that dark gaze. I want to strip her down and devour every inch of her.
“Hey?” Payton smiles, an unspoken invitation dripping off every word. “Don’t hold back out there Erik. I mean it.”
The suggestion in Payton’s voice is a physical caress. It whispers along my spine before coming to rest at the base of my aching cock. I’m rock hard, which is nothing new when she’s this close.
A practice helmet rests on the bench beside Payton as she laces up her skates. Standing over her like this, the difference in our sizes is striking. Payton is tall and muscular, but even on skates, I tower over her.
She stands suddenly, glaring up at me from beneath the wispy strands of her blonde fringe as if sensing my thoughts. Her hands rest on the narrow slice of her hips, energy crackling in the silence between us.
“I’ve always suspected you like to play rough, Payton.” My dick swells painfully beneath the tight hold of my compression shorts as I watch the rapid rise and fall of her chest. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t dream of going easy on you. I know you can take it.”
I’m playing a dangerous game. But hockey players aren’t generally known for overthinking.
Or thinking at all.
“Would you like a safe word?” I take a step closer, invading Payton’s personal space. “Just in case things get too—”
I frown, searching the heated fog of my thoughts for the right word.
“Intense?” I raise an eyebrow, and the heated flush of Payton’s cheeks tells me I got my point across.
Learning English came easy to me as a kid, but being near Payton makes me forget how to use language— and common sense. This close, her scent prickles along my senses and threatens to drive me mad. She smells like black coffee, lavender soap, and healthy sweat. It affects me on a primal, instinctive level.
“I don’t tap out. I don’t quit, and I never give up.” Payton’s lips twist into a practiced smirk. “Don’t be shy, Erik. I promise I won’t break. Just don’t be surprised when I end up on top.
True to her word, Payton doesn’t back down. She’s close enough for me to make out the tight points of her nipples straining against the front of her jersey. Close enough for me to simply pick her up and—
The pain is fast, like rows of red-hot teeth that grip my inner thigh. It bites down hard, making my vision swim and my stomach turn violently. Sharp needles of electricity claw their way up my back and rocket down one leg before the piercing jolt subsides to a dull roar that threatens to buckle my leg. Only my own stubborn determination keeps me on my feet.
It’s a grim reminder— proof that I’m in over my head.
I keep my expression neutral, but Payton’s mahogany eyes don’t miss a thing. Her gaze tears through my casual posture with unmasked efficiency. Whatever she sees puts a line of concern between her eyebrows.
She knows I’m hiding something.
It won’t be long before Payton realizes that I’m injured. And once she figures out what’s going on, I may as well kiss the rest of the season goodbye.
So why the hell can’t I stay away from her?
Payton Lawson has the soul of a shieldmaiden. She’s a warrior at heart, willing to fight for what she wants— no matter the cost. And right now what she wants is me.
Gods help me, I want her too.
No— not want. I need Payton. Need her like I need my next breath.
Not yet. Not like this, damn it.
“Just have to finish suiting up,” I jerk a thumb over my shoulder, where the last of my gear is piled up. “I’ll meet you on the ice. Try not to wear yourself out before I get there.”
She searches my face, a challenge burning in her dark eyes.
“Sure,” she shrugs, clearly unconvinced. “Safety first, right? Besides, I want to make sure it’s fair and square when I show you up. Get ready to get wrecked, Nordstrom.”
Competitive to her core, Payton has the talent to back up all that rebellious bravado. She’s fierce and wild and utterly untamable.
Stark som en bj?rn— Strong as a bear.
“You’re very good at running that pretty little mouth,” I growl at her, surprising us both.“One of us is getting a spanking today, but it won’t be me, Payton.”
I’m rewarded for my smug recklessness when Payton’s cheeks flush a deep crimson. Her dark eyes widen, sparking with gold embers as whatever sharp retort she was lining up dies on her lips.
I don’t know all the rules of this dangerous little game we’re playing. But one thing is certain— I just scored the first point.
“It’ll only take me a minute to get leg pads on,” I add casually.
Then I turn and walk back toward my gear before I do something stupid— like scooping Payton into my arms and carrying her all the way back to my townhouse, injury and career be damned.
Payton really is the sexiest woman I’ve ever met. More than lust or attraction, my need for her is an irresistible force of the universe. Like gravity or momentum or the way toast always lands butter-side down when you drop it.
I have been infatuated with Payton since the first time I heard the sharp click of her heels across the press room floor. And that desire hasn’t dulled with time. If anything, I’m more obsessed with her now than I was at the start of the season.
“Take your time,” Payton replies after a long beat. Her sweet smile does little to dull the sharp questions in her eyes. “I’ll just warm up a little in the meantime.”
She glides onto the ice without another word.
“Not that you need it,” I call out after her. “You’re already better than half the team.”
Payton doesn’t reply. She simply casts a feline grin over her shoulder. The wicked curve of her lips says everything.
She moves with the fluid, athletic grace of a panther on the prowl. Tall and slender, Payton’s willowy build disguises a steely core that turns me on more than my wildest fantasies.
I watch her in the gym every morning, mesmerized by the taut definition in her limbs and the fiery determination in her eyes. Her workout clothes may be hidden beneath thick layers of padding now, but the shape of Payton’s body is branded onto my mind forever.
All the boxy shoulder pads in the world couldn’t alter the image of Payton that dominates my thoughts every time I close my eyes. She’s strong and lean— with thick thighs and a tight, round ass. Her long legs and narrow waist look just as good in a designer suit and stilettos as they do in a pair of faded yoga pants. The sight of Payton’s modest breasts pressed against a sports bra is enough to make my mouth water.
“You won’t be able to stall forever, you know.” Payton’s teasing singsong echoes as she makes a lazy lap around the rink. “I know where all the exits are.”
Her laugh is low and melodic, skipping across the ice before crashing into my chest like a lead puck. Even knowing that this is a bad idea isn’t enough to stop me. I take a deep breath, ignoring the aggressive ring of warning bells in my mind. And then I follow Payton onto the ice.
It feels like stepping off a cliff and plunging into the unknown.
The arena smellslike freshly resurfaced ice. Every lungful of sharp, cold air sends a familiar spear of adrenaline racing through me.
I’m home.
Most people aren’t lucky enough to discover what they were born to do. But here in the crisp bite of air of the stadium, I know exactly where I belong.
I left Stockholm in high school after my father’s job uprooted our lives. Back then I thought I’d never forgive my parents for moving us to Texas. To a fifteen-year-old boy, the United States might as well have been Jupiter, and I spent most of those first few months plotting ways to get myself back to Sweden. But I settled into a new kind of normal somewhere along the way. Then came college and the NHL— and everything made perfect sense for the first time in my life.
I have a career and a home that I love here at The Nest. The Snowhawks are more of a brotherhood than a sports team. And as long as I’m guarding this net, there’s no question about who I am.
I wouldn”t trade this for anything.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Nordstrom.” Payton’s words are muffled by the cage at the front of her helmet, but there’s no missing the unbridled joy in her voice. “Your ass is mine.”
Well. Almost anything.
Payton’s blades slice across the smooth surface of the ice. She weaves deftly between a row of bright orange cones set up in the middle of the rink, skating around and between obstacles with athletic grace.
The quickfire sound of Payton’s stick slapping against the biscuit reverberates off the boards. It mingles with the delighted peel of her laughter before bouncing through the empty seats and shivering along my spine. She’s quick and focused— moving with the kind of nimble determination that still eludes some of the team’s rookie players.
“Bring it on, Lawson.” I crouch lower, ignoring the sharp bite of pain in my leg as I watch her approach. “Do your worst— I’ll stop you every time, baby girl. That offer for a safe word still stands.”
I’ve blocked every one of Payton’s attempts to score so far, but it hasn’t slowed her down. If anything, she’s more determined than ever to prove herself. She speeds down the ice again, already lining up another shot.
I’ve lost track of how long we’ve been on the ice, trading barbs and shots in equal measure. True to her word, she’s giving it her all. Not that I doubted her for a minute. Payton is physically incapable of pulling her punches.
It’s just one more thing about her that makes me rock hard.
“Oh, I can think of a few words I’d like to say, Erik.” She zips between cones with practiced ease. “And some I wouldn”t mind hearing from you, too. Most of them are filthy.”
There’s a familiarity to Payton’s style on the ice— clearly, she’s learned a lot from her brother over the years. She’s fast and powerful, with explosive energy and a keen eye. But like everything else about her, Payton’s skating is raw, authentic, and uniquely Payton.
Sawyer will spend the first period biding his time— profiling the opposing team and locking in on weaknesses. He never makes a move without a plan and a backup plan in place. It’s part of what makes him such a good captain.
Payton acts on instinct and adrenaline. Her moves are wild and unpredictable because she’s always thinking three steps ahead. I can’t see her face clearly, but I know her brow is furrowed and the soft shape of her lips is set into a grim line.
“You’re trying to distract me,” I state the obvious. “It’s not going to work.”
I’m lying of course. It already has worked. Payton has been a delicious distraction since the day I met her. She laughs again— a full-throated sound that fills the arena with the certainty that she just called my bluff.
Then Payton shifts hard, barreling down the ice toward me. She feints left before pulling back and firing. The crack of puck meeting stick rings out across the rink. Time slows down and splinters in a million directions as instinct and training take over.
It’s a textbook shot. The puck rockets toward me like a missile— low, fast, and locked on target. There’s no time to think. I drop hard, doing my best to ignore the sharp stab of pain that tears through my leg as I do. Keeping my torso straight and my blocker high, I spread my knee pads into a butterfly save.
Then the arena tilts, spins, and threatens to blacken around me. More than pain, this is an icy hot spear of agony that pins me in place.
Thunk
The black puck slides to a halt against the net behind me.
When the worst of the pain subsides and time reverts back to normal, I pull myself to my skates. I’m not surprised to see Payton standing in front of the goal, her helmet tucked under one arm and her stick raised above her head. Her face is flushed, her eyes wide with victory and mischief. Excitement and exhaustion are etched onto her pretty features. Even as my leg continues to throb, I’m enthralled by how beautiful and unrestrained Payton’s smile is.
I skate toward her, unable to hide the grimace as the band of agony tightens around my leg.
“Erik?” Payton drops the helmet and her smile immediately. “What’s wrong?”
The concern is obvious on her face. I shake my head, trying to find words to put her mind at ease without lying.
“I’ll be fine.” It’s the closest I can get. “Don’t worry about me.”
Payton narrows her eyes at me. She knows. She knows, and there’s no place left for me to hide. I should tell her—
Not just about the injury, either. Payton deserves to know how I feel about her, even if I can’t do a damned thing about it yet.
Instead, I take the coward’s way out.
“You win.” The words sound hollow and far away, even to my own ears. “Congratulations, Payton. That was a great shot. I need to hit the showers.”
I turn, unable to meet her eyes as I skate away.
Then I leave the ice, unable to shake the feeling that despite everything, we both just lost.