Donovan
Author: Quinn, Jillian
Date: 2018-03-24T09:44:48+00:00
Keywords: Sports; ident; Fiction; Romance; Contemporary; JeanneP
Description: As the starting goaltender for the Philadelphia Flyers, Carter Donovan has the toughest position on the team. He's hot as puck, a caveman in bed, and a beast on the ice. But after another season of missing the playoffs, Carter is taking the off-season harder than normal. Just when Carter needs a change of luck, his teammate sets him up with Sydney Carroway, a famous romance author who likes to play games of her own. And after a blind date gone wrong, the dark-haired beauty has him wrapped around her finger. Sydney tortures Carter with her dirty words and pictures, thrives off the steamy conver
Publisher: Penn Publishing

Table of Contents

- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Epilogue

DONOVAN

A Face-Off Series Novel

Jillian Quinn

Contents

Other Titles by Jillian Quinn

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Epilogue

Jameson

Jameson Excerpt

Parker

Parker Excerpt

Kane

Kane Excerpt

Teach

Teach Excerpt

Corrupt Me

Corrupt Me Excerpt

Newsletter

Other Titles by Jillian Quinn

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Other Titles by Jillian Quinn

FACE-OFF SERIES

Book 1: Parker

Book 2: Kane

Book 3: Donovan

Book 4: Jameson (Pre-Order: July 12, 2017)

Book 5: Dean (September 2017)

CITY OF SINNERS NOVELLA SERIES

Book 1: Teach

Book 2: Sex Therapy

PHILLY CORRUPTION SERIES

Corrupt Me

Totally Corrupt (TBD)

For updates on Jillian’s upcoming books, visit jillianquinnbooks.com

Sign up for Jillian’s newsletter at
http://eepurl.com/cuJkOr for free books, book deals, giveaways, and exclusive excerpts from her books.

Copyright © 2017 by Jillian Quinn

All rights reserved.

Visit my website at jillianquinnbooks.com

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, both living or deceased, establishments, businesses, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Chapter 1

Carter

For the first time since high school, I am nervous for a date. And not just any date. I’m meeting Sydney Carroway, the famous romance author, who looks like a pinup model. She’s kind of a big deal around here. But so am I.

So, why am I nervous?

This chick has me off my game for some reason, and I haven’t even met her yet. Sydney was born into excessive wealth, a luxury I did not have until I made it pro, and now she’s running her own empire. Intimidation is a feeling so foreign anymore that I have no idea why I allow it to consume me. But I do.

Once the self-doubt starts to creep in, the bile rises up the back of my throat. Sydney is going to be one spitfire of a woman. I know that from what I have heard about her from Kennedy Lockwood, her best friend, and Tyler Kane’s live-in girlfriend.

I pull through the wrought iron gates of Tyler’s estate and up the long driveway. He never keeps the gate locked, which is not smart when you are as famous and rich as Tyler. Not that I don’t have the same issues, but Tyler is the highest paid player in the NHL and the most sought after. As our team captain and starting center for the Flyers, everyone wants a piece of him.

I’m the goalie, the one who messed things up for us again this year. Because Tyler is my best friend, he won’t allow me to blame myself, says the team sucks as a whole. But I take responsibility for every shot taken on goal and scored. When a team loses repeatedly, the media blames it on ineffective goaltending. I agree with them.

I also blame another nasty season for being anxious about this date. It doesn’t help that Tyler warned me about Sydney several times before coming over tonight. This is the first time Tyler is meeting her as well. He wants this to go smooth since Kennedy and Sydney are like sisters. So, I cannot harass this up.

I pull around the circular driveway and park in front of Tyler’s mansion. This place should have its own zip code. My house is big but nothing compared to the monstrosity of Kane Manor. My other teammate, Alex Parker, has his Porsche parked ahead of me, lined up with Tyler’s BMW. By process of elimination, I assume Sydney is not here yet, which gives me some time to get inside and talk to everyone before she makes her grand entrance.

She seems like the type to show up late just to make everyone stop what they are doing to drool over her. High maintenance chicks are not really my thing. But, when you have a body and face like hers, exceptions can be made.

Sucking in a deep breath, I open the door, sliding out from my Hummer. I’m a big guy, always have been, and at six foot six and two hundred forty pounds, I need the room to move around. It amazes me how Alex and Tyler can drive such tiny cars when they’re only a few inches shorter than me.

When I reach the front door, it’s already open, same as always. Tyler really needs to work on his home security before he gets robbed or molested by a stalker fan. He had a stalker years ago. You think he would have learned from that incident. Idiot.

“Hello,” I yell, once I step inside the marbled hallway.

The house has vaulted ceilings that cause my voice to echo, massive crystal chandeliers hanging in the foyer, and a long staircase that leads to the second floor bedrooms. I walk straight ahead, toward the living room, where I can hear the last game of the Stanley Cup Finals blasting through the surround sound speakers. It’s tradition for Tyler and me to watch the playoffs together.

Alex is a new addition this year, along with his girlfriend and agent, Charlotte Coachman. She goes by the nickname Coach and represents both Alex and Tyler. She even agreed to help me out with my next contract, which is coming up soon. If I don’t get my trash together, it will be my last year with the Flyers.

When I step into the living room, Coach and Alex are cuddling on one of the oversized sectional couches. Tyler is next to him with his arm hooked around Kennedy’s back, holding her against his side and chatting with Alex about the game on TV. Both couples have been inseparable since they met. Sometimes, they make me want to puke, but it’s also nice to see both Alex and Tyler happy after all the pain and drama they went through over the years.

Like me, Tyler has a dark past he keeps to himself. Not even Parker knows either of our secrets. We bonded over our mutual issues and hatred for being on a losing team. Then, when the offers started rolling in from other teams in the league, neither Tyler nor I wanted to leave. Tyler has his reasons, and I have mine.

For the most part, we come as a packaged deal. I imagine Alex will also go with us when the day finally comes for us to make a decision. I doubt that will happen anytime soon, considering Tyler’s insistence on making the Flyers a winning team.

He’s been on the phone with Mike Turner, our general manager, almost every day to ask about trades. They don’t have anything in the works or the salary cap to work with after signing Alex this year. So, we have no choice but to stick it out and hope we can get our trash together by the start of next season.

Standing in the archway of the living room, I raise my thick arms above my head to stretch, wearing sweat pants that hang from my hips and a cut off tank that shows off my tats. I chose this in an attempt to act causal and pretend I am not excited about our date. Now that Kennedy is giving me the stink eye, I realize this outfit was a bonehead move. Sydney will probably hate me.

At least I trimmed my dark beard, now looking more like an average person and less like a lumberjack. I have a season ritual where I refuse to shave. The length of my beard was getting out of hand by the last game and started to get on my nerves.

I shaved and showered to meet Sydney. But that was about all I did other than some manscaping. I thought that would be enough since the setup was mutual. Now, I’m not so sure.

“Where are you coming from?” Tyler asks, getting up from the couch with Kennedy following behind him.

“My house. Why?” I strut into the living room and slap my hand down hard on Tyler’s back in greeting, causing him to jerk forward. I often forget my own strength.

He shrugs. “I thought maybe you were training before you came over. That’s all.”

I glance down at my shirt. “Nah, I ran out of clothes to wear, and I didn’t feel like doing laundry.” That is a lie.

“You know Kennedy invited Sydney for you, right?” Tyler speaks low enough so only I can hear.

I act calm, unaffected. “Yeah, what's the problem?”

“Nothing. I just thought you wanted to meet Sydney, and you are dressed like this.” Tyler points at my chest.

He must be annoyed for Kennedy, assuming she will give him a rash of trash later, but she keeps her mouth shut.

They have the game on in the background, the commentator’s voices blaring over the speakers. I could care less who wins this year, considering we didn’t even make it to the first round of the playoffs. But I am hoping our competition get their rears kicked.

The doorbell rings, and I follow Tyler and Kennedy out of the room and down the hallway. I hover over Tyler, like a big oaf, and with a idiot me grin on my face because Sydney is smoking hot. Even hotter in person than online.

Her pictures do not even do her justice. She gets the same reaction as me from Tyler. Sydney is the kind of woman you stop to notice. If Tyler weren't with Kennedy, we would be fighting for her right now, trying to out do the other.

“Tyler,” Sydney says, holding out her hand as if she expects him to kiss the ring. She has a real air of entitlement around her, which is evident in the way she speaks and moves.

Sydney flashes her pearly whites at Tyler. “So, you’re the stud who’s stolen my Kennedy away from me.”

Tyler shakes her hand, his gesture so formal that even Sydney seems a bit taken back. “Sorry about that.”

She shrugs and walks into the house, ignoring me with her head held high, and her belly pushed out. I lick my lips and stalk behind her, staring at her perfect rear. I have to admit I do not love how she just blew past me as if I were a piece of furniture in her way that she had to maneuver around. But I sure am intrigued.

“I would say sorry for taking you away from Kennedy,” Tyler says to Sydney once we enter the living room, “but I have a hard time letting her out of my sight.”

She peeks up at him from beneath her long lashes and flips her dark curls over her shoulder. “How can I compete with your monster cock? But I do think we should work out a schedule. You know, you get her one day, and I get her the next.”

I have a hard time keeping a straight face and end up breaking the silence. “Did you just say monster cock?”

I’m so much taller than Sydney, even in her five-inch heels, that my chest is practically in her face when I move closer.

She tilts her head to the side as if thinking over her last comment. “Yeah, I guess I did. No biggie. Who doesn’t love a big cock?”

“I’m Carter Donovan,” I say, touching her shoulder with my hand, not even bothering to stifle my laughter.

“Wonderful,” she says, shrugging me off, “Sydney Carroway, but I’m sure you already know that.” She turns to Kennedy, ignoring me. “I’m starving. K, help me find something to eat in this place.”

Then Sydney does something I do not expect and strolls out of the room and down the hall as if she owns the joint. Her heels click against the marble floor as she heads toward the kitchen. I want more. For a second, I think about tracking her down, but I don’t want to seem too eager.

“That was weird,” I mutter to Tyler, dumbfounded.

“You could say that.” Tyler looks just as confused by that exchange with Sydney. For someone who requested to meet me, she has a funny way of showing it.

“She’s hot, though.” I shove my hands into my sweat pockets as we move further into the living room.

“Uh-huh,” Tyler confirms. I assume he’s wondering if she will even give me the time of day. I have no clue.

“What do you think of Sydney?” Kennedy asks. “She’s amazing, right?”

“She told me I have a monster cock.” This time Tyler laughs. “I can’t believe you told her about me. And here I thought only guys talked about stuff like that.”

She gives him an I’m busted look, biting down on her bottom lip. “Umm…yeah. You know girls talk about those kinds of things. And babe, your toe is something worth talking about. Just be happy that it didn’t end up on our blog because it came up quite a few times as a possible post idea.”

“Oh, yeah.” Tyler leans down to kiss her hair. “What were you going to call it?”

“I like big dicks, and I cannot lie,” she jokes.

This conversation just got interesting. Kennedy seems sweet and more innocent than Sydney does, so I can only imagine what a regular chat with Sydney would be like. She talked about Tyler’s toe as if normal people make statements like that to strangers. She’s really comfortable in her own skin. And I like that about her.

“I still like the idea of the taking one for the team post,” Tyler whispers into her ear, not realizing I can hear them. “If you want, we can go to the bathroom, and you can show me how you’d demonstrate to your followers.”

Kennedy nudges him hard with her hip. “Nice try, but we have company.”

Sydney walks back into the room with a box of pizza and a six-pack of beer. “Who’s hungry?”

She sets the box and bottles on the long table that spans both couches. The room is so big that it calls for large furniture to take up some of the space.

“I can eat,” Alex and I call out, both of us reaching over to grab a slice as she opens the box.

I stand with Tyler and Kennedy while I eat, watching as Sydney chats with Coach as if they have known each other for years. Sydney seems to have this effect on the people around her that makes them want to open up.

Coach is about as closed off as they come, and she’s over there telling Sydney all the details about Parker and the time they had spent apart. Those were some miserable days for everyone on our team. We had the pleasure of being around Parker back then, and it sucked. He was such a mongrel when he was apart from Coach. It killed whatever mojo we had going for us.

Ignoring me, Kennedy and Tyler have a private conversation, whispering into each other’s ears. Even with Sydney here, I feel like the third wheel.

Their voices reach a higher octave before Tyler yells so loud it rings in my ear. “Woo hoo!”

His outburst draws the attention of the rest of the group, their heads turned toward us with confused expressions on their faces.

“Kennedy is moving in with me,” Tyler says with his hands raised in the air.

I congratulate them, along with the rest of the group, before Tyler picks Kennedy up and throws her over his shoulder. He practically runs out of the living room with his hand on her rear. His shoes smack loudly against the wooden planks as he climbs the stairs, leaving us behind. Sydney just got here, and they bail to go idiot?

This is awkward. All eyes are on me now that the lovebirds left me standing in the middle of the room by myself. Who does that in the midst of watching the last game of the Stanley Cup Finals? There has to be an unwritten rule that Tyler just broke.

Sydney is so hot and intimidating I’m afraid to go near her. This situation reminds me of when I was in high school, and the boys and girls sectioned themselves off in the gymnasium at dances, staring at each other from across the room. She locks eyes with me, like a predator sizing me up. Since I entered the NHL, girls have come to me. I’ve been kind of lazy because of the attention I get without even trying.

What if she starts talking about monster cocks again? That was weird but hot. I wouldn’t mind if it were my cock she was talking about. What I would do or say for one night with Sydney. I can already see her full lips parting for me, trying not to dwell on it too long.

Sydney pats the space next to her on the couch, smacking her lips at me. “Come here, big guy. Tell me all your secrets.”

I cringe at the thought and walk toward her with caution. Without Tyler and Kennedy here as a buffer, I can’t count on Coach and Alex to help me out when they’re too busy sucking face. Just the mention of secrets has me on edge.

“I don’t have anything to tell,” I say, taking a seat next to her, annoyed by her name for me. I had enough nasty nicknames as a kid.

“Of course you do. Everyone has secrets.” Sydney leans over and presses her lips to my ear, sending a tremor straight to my balls.

Please don’t get hard, I tell myself, trying to think of something other than her giant rack as she rubs her breasts on my arm.

“You share yours, and I’ll share mine,” she whispers, sucking on my earlobe. “I like games. We can have a lot of fun.”

What is happening right now? She blew me off when she first walked into the house, and now she’s teasing me and licking my ear. This woman is the devil.

Are we talking about secrets or body parts? I have no idea, and I don’t care. The urge to take her over my shoulder and into one of Tyler’s many spare bedrooms crosses my mind. I think she’d be down for it. Or at least I hope. Time to man-up and find out.

Chapter 2

Sydney

Where in the idiotety idiot is Carter Donovan’s sexy as idiot beard?

Curse him for shaving that off before our date. I am so pissed now that I want to mess with him the rest of the night just for the heck of it. I blew past him when I walked into the house, acted as if I had not seen him. But Carter is hard to miss. He reminds me of The Incredible Hulk with his large frame, those strong shoulders and arms, the muscle ripped down to his thighs.

My goodness, he is hot as puck. This man does things between my legs without even touching me. Leaning over him on the couch, I cannot stop myself from staring down, wondering if his package matches the rest of him. I sure hope so because he turns me on just by sitting next to me. I tease him when I press my lips to his ear, asking him to spill his secrets.

Tugging at his earlobe with my teeth, I suck on his ear, breathing heavy against his skin. He stills for a few seconds and draws in some air, holding it far too long before he lets it out.

“Do I make you hard, Carter,” I whisper when he doesn’t react to my first statement about sharing our secrets. “Do you want to shove your big, fat cock inside me?”

I have to admit I enjoy this more than I should.

He turns his head just enough so our eyes meet. “Keep talking like that, Princess, and I’m going to bend you over this couch and forget you in front of everyone.”

His voice is so deep and manly I close my eyes and imagine him doing what he promised. A challenge. I like it. Apparently, this could work between us.

Most of the time, I do things like this to test men and their limits. The pussies usually back off right away, where the real men follow Carter’s lead and show me what they have to offer.

I run my fingers along his arm, feeling down his body, stopping when I reach his thigh. It’s as if his legs are chiseled from stone. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

“Oh, yeah.” He pulls me into his arms so that I fall helplessly like a ragdoll onto his lap. “Don’t dare me to do something you can’t follow through on. Because I will spread you out and forget you senseless.”

“That’s hot. You sure know how to treat a lady.” A tiny moan escapes my mouth. Combined with the hockey game playing over the loud speakers and the couple next to us devouring each other, no one notices. Not that I would care if they heard us. I write far worse things in my romance books.

The house is full of deviants, with my best friend upstairs Tyler, and Coach and Alex two seconds away from joining them, not even paying attention to the game everyone came here to watch. This is my kind of crowd. I could care less about hockey or any sport for that matter. But when it comes to sex—my favorite sport—I am all-in. And Carter is game.

I sit up, holding onto his shoulder for support. He’s so thick I couldn’t move him if I tried. Loving the way his muscles feel beneath my fingers, I trace the outline of his tattoos. Some have color, but most are black ink.

“I like your tats,” I tell him. “Do they have any meaning behind them?”

“Yeah, they do.” He leaves it at that, which makes me want to learn more about him and the sleeves of ink marking his body.

I run my fingers through his dark hair, pressing my chest into his arm. “That’s all you’re going to give me, big guy?”

“Stop calling me that,” he says, annoyed, staring down at my cleavage. The girls are out and on display for him tonight. Maybe I can coax him into doing what I want by giving him a sneak preview.

“Stop calling me Princess,” I spit back, pretending to be annoyed with him. I could care less. My father had called me that since I was born.

He shrugs, moving me along with his shoulders. “If the shoes fits.”

“Touché, Carter.” I roll my eyes and think of what to say to him next.

He shut me down over his tattoos. What the heck could be so important about them that he turned into a jerk?

“What does this one mean?” I point at the words Lux in tenebris on his wrist, which I already know is Latin, but I have no idea what it says. Foreign languages were not one of my strong suits in high school. I was too busy hooking up with my English teacher to pay attention.

“Light in the darkness,” he says, failing to follow it up with anything specific. He has what appear to be tribal markings and various symbols and words on his arms.

Funny how fast he changes from hot to cold over something so silly. Obviously, the meaning behind his tats is not. There’s more to the man than what meets the eye. And I plan to find out what Carter is hiding.

“Give me something,” I murmur against his ear, rubbing his thigh.

Yes, I scream on the inside when I feel his massive cock semi-hard against his leg. I was afraid he was one of those tall guys with a small toe. That’s the worst when you’re busy sizing up their shoes and hands, only to find out there is not much happening between the legs. Total lady boner killer. But not Carter, he’s like a walking hard-on, the cure for all female orgasms.

“How about a tour of the house?” He deadpans, stroking the side of my breast with his big hand. I let him. Why not? It feels good.

I sit back just enough to give him the evil eye. “Are you trying to get me into bed just so you can ignore my question?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. How about you come with me and find out.”

He leans forward and grips my sides, lifting me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes as he gets up from the couch. I have no time to protest because I’m already clinging to him for dear life, afraid he’ll drop me on my rear. With his attitude, he might do just that.

As he slides me down his chest, I wrap my arms around his neck to hold on. What is with these guys and manhandling their women? All I know is I’m not complaining. The heat burning between our bodies sends a brush of fire up my arms. My nipples harden being this close to Carter. I hate that he has an instant effect on me that goes straight to my pussy.

“Do you think you can put me down, big guy?” I say in a playful tone, knowing it will piss him off even more. He’s big, and he’s a guy, so I fail to see the issue with the nickname. And I plan to make him my big guy if he plays his cards right. “You’re squeezing me to death, and my belly are too big to be mashed together like this. Let go of me before they are of no use to you.”

He laughs and walks out of the living room and into the long, marble hallway, headed toward the stairs. “It’s not like they’re going to pop. They look pretty real to me. Don’t worry, Princess. I can rub them once I figure out where to take you.”

“I’ll hold you to it.” I plant a kiss on his cheek, smearing my lip gloss on his face. He looks sexy-as-mess with the outline of my lips on his skin. I kissed him. Now, he’s mine.

We reach the second floor landing in record time, my insides fueled by adrenaline and the excitement of the unknown. I want Carter to ravage me, make me his tonight. But I have rules. While he may think he’s getting lucky right now, that is far from true. I talk a good game but rarely back it up on the first date.

Now, if I were drunk, that would be a whole other story. Carter could have me anyway he wants, and I would not stop him. That’s also why I no longer drink on dates. I can be such a skank when I get tipsy, leading to plenty of mornings full of upset and awkwardness. Kennedy thinks every man says yes to me and falls at my feet. Plenty of them do, not that I am bragging, but most men have that stupid rule about not calling if you sleep with them the first night.

Since I like Carter already, I sure do not want to spoil this with a meaningless night of sex. I can tell there is more to his story. And I want to be the one to figure out what makes Carter tick.

When we reach the last door at the end of the hall, Carter sets me down, placing his hands on my shoulders. He stares into my eyes, the connection between us so strong my breath hitches.

Carter leans down to kiss me, and as he does, I turn my head to the side, causing him to plant a peck on my cheek.

“Really?” He sounds confused, as he should be. “You’re not going to let me kiss you?”

He is one sexy hunk of man. I could let him take me right here in this hallway and have the best night of my life, or I can wait him out, make him beg me for more. Option B is the one I’m going with tonight. Because unlike most of the guys I meet, I want to see Carter again.

“Not tonight. But I’d still like the tour of the house if you want to show it to me.”

Scrunching his nose, he looks away from me and down the hall. “Um…”

Carter has me so off my game. I guess I also have him off his. Not what he was expecting. Always keep men on their toes. And bring them to their knees.

“What do you want to see? It’s just a bunch of rooms.”

“As you know, I am a romance author. Why don’t you take me into each room and tell me a story.”

“A story?” He narrows his eyes at me. “About what?”

“About us and what we would do in each of them if you had the chance to do as you wish with me.”

He snorts. “You’re joking me, right?”

I shake my head. “Nope, I’m dead serious. I like games. This one will be fun. Live a little, Carter. Just try it out. It will help us get to know one another. You’ll see.”

“Okay,” he says, opening the door to the bedroom in front of us. “I’m not sure what you want me to say…”

The guest room has high ceilings, same as the rest of the house, and boasts large mahogany furniture, an oversized four-poster bed with a canopy, and has a couch along the wall next to a walk-in closet.

Tyler must’ve hired an interior designer because there is no way a man picked out the window treatments or bedding, especially not a man like Tyler. From what Kennedy has told me, Tyler doesn’t even remember to keep food in his cabinets.

“Use your imagination.” I stroll over to the bed and pat my hand on the silky blue comforter. “What would we be doing right this second if I were to hike up my skirt, take off my thong, and spread my legs for you?”

He gives me a wicked grin, coming closer and closing the gap between us. “Can I get a little encouragement?” Carter is so close he’s practically between my thighs. “Maybe a little preview of what’s to come?”

“Oh, you’ll be coming all right, big guy. That much I can promise. But not tonight. First, you have to learn some self-control. One thing I learned from writing romance is that sex is about control and power. We need to be on equal footing when we go into this, or it will not work.”

“I see you have given this a lot of thought.”

I shrug, unaffected by his comment. “I’m a writer. That’s what I do. Thinking is part of my job. Plotting out a novel is sort of like planning a game and making sure all the pieces fit in place so that everyone wins.”

“You can’t always have a winner or a happy ending,” he challenges, throwing me off when he lifts my leg and caresses my skin with his hand, holding my thigh against his hip.

“I write romance, Carter. The characters always have a happily ever after. Otherwise, readers would hunt me down and burn my apartment to the ground.”

He laughs. “That’s a bit dramatic. Don’t you think?”

I roll my eyes at him. Stop challenging me.

“Fine. I’ll give you that. But no one wants to read a romance novel with an ending like Romeo and Juliet. While millions of people love that play, it would not work in a book.” His eyes travel from my face to my breasts, so I snap my fingers in front of him. “Can you focus, please? You are supposed to be narrating our scene together.”

“Oh, I’m focused,” he says, rubbing my inner thigh. “I’m focused on you and ready to make use of this bed. How’s that for a sex scene?”

Carter makes it impossible for me to function properly. My mind goes blank, thoughts of Carter me run through my head all at once. It’s been a while since I last had sex. The last encounter had ended up as a idiot and dash scenario. I am not in the market for another one of those. There comes the point in your life when you get too old for trash like that, and I have hit my threshold of one-night stands and morning afters.

“Not what I had in mind.” I clutch his shirt in my hands and pull him closer.

He falls forward, pretending like it’s an accident when he’s using this as an excuse to pin me against the mattress. With his forearms on both sides of me, he lifts his hand to twirl one of my curls between his fingers, gazing into my eyes. Everything about him is so intense. I want to kiss him. But I won’t.

Breathing against my lips, he says, “Is this what you had in mind?”

“Nope. But we can go through the motions without actually following through. I have rules I want you to follow. We can have a lot of fun with this. Are you down?”

“Whatever you want, Princess.” He grins, his cock growing hard against my leg. Idiot. Me. Literally.

Doing my best to ignore his massive erection, I take a second to compose myself. A small part of me wants to reach into his sweatpants and whip that baby out just to get a better look. But I have to behave myself tonight. Or maybe I can kill two birds with one stone.

“Good.” I smile so wide my jaw hurts. “Now get off me and remove your pants.”

He scratches the dark stubble on his chin, perplexed. I confuse men on purpose. The look on his handsome face is the norm. And without further instruction, he presses his palm down on the bed for support and lifts himself up.

Pushing his sweats over his hips, I get more than I had bargained. Because Carter is not wearing any underwear. He did this on purpose.

What the puck!

My mouth opens wide enough to fit his massive cock. How do I even react to his size? Kennedy and I wrote an article about that months ago, and I sure don’t have to act like I just unwrapped a Christmas present I don’t like. Not even close. Carter is so big my ovaries are high-fiving each other in appreciation.

Now soaking wet, my pussy throbs, wishing he would fill me up. I reach between my legs without even thinking and stop myself when my hand lands on my upper thigh. What is he doing to me?

“I know you like what you see, Princess.” He smirks, like a cocky idiot, because he knows that his equipment is the trash. It’s more than the trash. Carter has the Holy Grail of sticks.

At first, I think I see a mirage. He’s so big it’s as if I have double vision. I want to touch him, make sure it’s real. Give him a thorough inspection.

“I showed you mine. Now show me yours,” Carter says, his voice rough and sensual.

So, not what I had in mind at all. But not a bad change of plans either. I’m beyond horny, sex deprived, and the lack of oxygen to my brain is lowering my willpower.

“Sit down,” I order, pointing at the couch along the wall behind him that faces the bed. “Rule number one. You can look, but you can’t touch.”

Running his fingers through his hair, he blows out a puff of air. “You’re crazy, woman.”

“Lucky for you, my brand of crazy has perks. As long as you’re a good boy and do what I say, you will get something in return.”

I get an eye roll that only makes me want to mess him even more. But he doesn’t protest again. “This better be good.”

“Trust me, big guy. I am worth it.”

He kicks off his sneakers and pants, giving me a nice view of his rear, as he struts over to the sofa. His legs are so thick and long, like his cock, his arms bulging with muscle in all the right places. His cut-off shirt needs to go because I need to see more of him. I have never seen this much definition on a man before. And I dated some real meatheads.

He sits on the plush sofa with his legs open and his hand on his shaft. “What now, Princess?”

“Take off your shirt.” I bark the order, but he just sits there.

“What’s next?” He asks, ignoring my request.

I love that he’s down with my impromptu role play. It’s too bad he’s being stubborn about taking off his shirt. I bet his abs are just as ripped as the rest of him.

While this may seem odd, nights like this help me with my writing. A lot of my books come from personal experiences.

“Now, we finish our scene,” I tell him, my eyes locked on what I can see of his gorgeous body.

I scoot down toward the footboard, hiking up my skirt just enough so that he can see my hot pink thong. It’s see through lace, leaving little to the imagination, but I want him to get the full show. He needs to give in to me before I submit to him completely. I’m a freak like that, and if he doesn’t like it, he can go. I doubt he will. He wants me too much to bail already. And I like that he’s a willing participant in this weird rear game. It’s better this way.

“What exactly does that entail?” He seems amused.

The amount of self-control he exudes excites me, turns me on so much that I push my panties to the side to give him a peek. I wish I could say this is one of the most erotic things I’ve ever done. That would be a lie. My level of kinkiness mostly likely exceeds Carter’s.

He seems like the bark out orders, bend me over, and idiot me from behind type of caveman. I want that side of him for sure. But we need to learn more about each other first. What better way to do that than to masturbate in front of each other?

He licks his lips, stroking himself gently as his gaze falls between my legs. “Spread those pussy lips for me, Princess.”

I hesitate, biting down on my bottom lip before I make my decision. Carter wins. I guess. Because I do as he says even though it’s what I had wanted to do the second I saw his cock.

“So, tell me,” I say, shoving two fingers inside my wetness. I’m so wet I could come on the spot. “Do you like what you see, big guy?”

He nods, his hand moving faster with each stroke. This time he keeps his mouth shut, too busy concentrating on me to answer. Only grunts from him and soft moans from me fill the void.

I pick up the pace, spreading my legs wider for Carter. He needs to see me. See what he’s doing to me. I’m so close to hitting the spot, my body trembles and grows warmer, the heat radiating through me in waves. My nipples are so hard they’re poking through my bra, outlining my shirt.

And then something unexpected happens. The bedroom door swings open. I look to my right in horror when I see Tyler, followed by Kennedy.

Tyler’s mouth opens in shock. “Incredible. What the heck are you guys doing in here?” He covers Kennedy’s eyes with his hand and turns her around so she can’t see Carter, which is a shame because his stick is something to admire. Though by the sound of it, Tyler’s is more than enough.

In one swift motion, I remove my fingers from my pussy and push down my skirt. This is awkward. Carter doesn’t have the luxury of putting on his clothes since his pants are on the floor next to me.

“Dude, what the heck!” Carter lets go of his toe and raises his hands in the air. “Get out!”

“Kennedy, are you scarred for life?” I ask, trying not to laugh. But I fail.

I hear her chuckle. She has her back facing me. “No. I don’t think so. Nothing I haven’t seen before.”

We both know that is a lie. Compared to me, Kennedy is a good girl. I seriously doubt she has ever taken a strange man into another strange man’s bedroom to have a masturbation session. Unless she’s been hiding that naughty side from me after all these years.

Tyler covers the side of his face with his hand, staring at the ground. “We’re gonna go. You two have fun.”

He closes the door behind him, the sounds of his laughter audible from in the hallway.

Carter’s gaze shifts from the door to me. The intensity behind his deep brown eyes forces me to lock onto him, holding me in his clutches. We sit there for a few seconds, still attempting to catch our breath. This was awkward. Neither of us can deny it. A beat passes between us before we both follow Tyler’s lead and laugh uncontrollably until my stomach hurts and tears stream down my face.

“I can’t believe that just happened.” His voice is deep, modulated, and so sexy.

“Me either,” I choke out. “Do you think Tyler saw me? Oh, my goodness, this is…” I don’t finish the thought even though the word I am looking for is ridiculous. We are both completely ridiculous. And perfect for each other. Two whackos.

“You covered up right away, so I doubt Tyler saw much if any of you. But I know for a fact Kennedy got a good look at me.” He shakes his head, smiling, and leans back against the couch cushions. “So, where were we before they interrupted us?”

“You can’t be serious.” I am somewhat shocked Carter is still into this after what happened only a few minutes ago.

“I don’t joke about pussy.” He grips his shaft and says, “Spread those legs for me.”

“If we do this, I want you to promise me one thing.”

“Fine. I’ll do what you like as long as I don’t go home with blue balls.”

“I want you to claim my pussy,” I say this with a straight face. Carter is having a hard time figuring out if I’m serious or screwing with him again. “That means you have to work for it. Are you in?”

“Of course,” he says as if I just asked him a dumb question. “I’ll play along if you do your part.”

“Meaning?” What is my part?

Still holding onto his very erect toe, he starts moving again, staring me down as he does this. “I need to see what I’m claiming. Give me some incentive. Now, finger your pussy and let me watch.”

I listen to him once more, obeying Carter instead of forcing him to submit to my rules. It’s a compromise. But I am still in control over my body. When we both finally come, I swear it’s the best orgasm I have ever had. Carter makes the sexiest sounds and the hottest facial expressions. Hands-down this is one of the best nights of my life. And he never even touched me. That takes some serious skill.

Carter is a keeper. I just hope he hangs around long enough to finish playing the game.

Chapter 3

Carter

After Sydney had dared me to claim her pussy, I was more than happy to accept the challenge. But she has not made this easy for me. While I love the chase, my hand is killing me from jerking off so much. And I need my hand to play hockey, so yeah, that’s not really working out too well for me. Not like my game is on point for the next season. I sucked rear all summer, which is only a continuation from the past year.

Standing in front of the net in full gear, I sink into position. With Tyler skating toward me, getting fancy with his puck work as he moves the puck from right to left in front of him, I know what’s coming. Even though I know what he’s doing and have seen him do it a thousand times, my response time is off. He dekes left, and I move right, assuming that’s his end game. But, as usual, he plays me.

Tyler smacks the puck into the net, just missing the post, leaving me feeling like a jerk, once again, as he celebrates his victory over me. Tyler is the best center in the league and the highest paid for a reason. He never lets me forget it, the cocky idiot.

I also think it’s because the Flyers could not afford to let him go after all the offers started pouring in from major contenders. But he’s either too stupid or too loyal to leave the team he’d grown up to admire. I would have left the second the Penguins offered the salary they threw on the table at the start of last season.

Pittsburgh is still within driving distance for his family, but I know the real reason he stays local. He has a son he had given up for adoption when he was still in high school. He’s a good guy, still regrets the choice his parents forced him to make and visits with his son once a month. Too bad the kid has no idea he’s his father, which makes the entire situation even harder.

Since Kennedy has come into his life, I see a serious change in Tyler’s behavior. I miss my wingman, but I’m also happy that he’s finally moving on with his life. Tyler dwelled on the past for as long as we have known each other. It’s nice to see him with a smile on his face, and not one of those forced smiles he gives most of the time. A real one that makes me think he has a chance at moving forward with his career and his life.

Now, if only I could do the same.

Tyler stops next to me, and I take off my helmet, waiting for him to lay into me once again. But he doesn’t. At least not this time.

“Hey, man, don’t worry about it.” He smacks a gloved hand down on my shoulder. “You’re just off your game. It’s probably from lack of oxygen to your toe.”

I laugh at his snide comment because there is some truth to it but also kind of sad. “Yeah, Sydney is killing me.”

“She’s brutal. If Kennedy did that trash to me, we would not be together right now.”

“You had Roxie cock blocking you instead.”

He shakes his head, smiling. “Roxie knows not to get in the way of my pussy anymore.”

The first time Tyler tried to have sex with Kennedy, his dog had gotten in the way. Roxie is still a puppy and requires a lot of attention.

“What are you losers talking about?” Parker asks, skating toward us without his stick.

Tyler turns to face him, his body angled between us. “We were talking about how Donovan can’t get Sydney to mess him. I swear either his hand or toe are going to fall off before she does. Wanna throw some money down on it?”

“Yeah,” Parker says, looking away, laughing. Then, his gaze travels back to me. “The good ones are harder to get into bed. I learned that with Charlotte.”

“Dude, it took you less than a week to hook up with Coach,” Tyler says, tapping Parker in the arm and he smiles. “Our boy has been getting off on Sydney for a week, and she still won’t let him touch her. She’s a cocktease.”

“Don’t talk about Sydney like that,” I say, shoving him. I’m surprised how much I have grown to like her, despite all her rules.

He loses his balance but regains it fast. “Dick!” Tyler shouts at me. “Just because you’re having girl problems doesn’t mean you need to take it out on the team or me. Get your trash together, man. I’m going to hit the shower.”

Annoyed with me, Tyler skates off. Some days, I think he has just as many mood swings as a pregnant woman.

“You like her, huh?” Parker asks me as we skate away from the net.

“Yeah, she’s…weird. I kind of like that. I never met anyone like Sydney before.”

Our teammates are making their way off the ice and toward the locker room. As the captain, Tyler usually stays behind until we finish practice, but he's a jerk today for whatever reason. He must have gotten into a fight with Kennedy or missed a morning BJ. Who the heck knows. I don’t care. I have enough of my own problems to deal with.

“I felt the same way about Charlotte when we first met. She called me out on my trash so many times. We didn’t even get a long at first. Charlotte thought I was some spoiled brat who had his career handed to him on a platter and didn’t want to work for it. She hated me until I convinced her I wasn’t the jerk the newspapers made me out to be.”

“She was wrong about that,” I tell him, exiting the rink. “You’re not so bad.”

“Yeah, but she didn’t know that in the beginning. Most people thought the same thing about me. I had to work hard to get everyone to overlook all the scandals and women. What I’m trying to say is that the good ones make you work for it, and if she’s worth the wait, then don’t listen to Kane.”

Tyler is about as pussy-whipped as a man can get. And the same goes for Parker. Those two have morphed into different people since they met their women. Maybe I should take their advice if I want to get Sydney into my bed before my hand or toe falls off. I still can’t believe Tyler said that. He’s right, though. I can’t take much more of the torture. It’s messing with my head and my hockey, and I can’t have that trash in my life.

“Sydney put on a show for me the first night we met, and then wouldn’t let me touch her. It’s one of her rules. She has a lot of them for some reason.”

“Okay. That’s weird.” Parker looks at me confused. “I don’t even know what to say about that.” He takes off his helmet, his eyes focused on the entrance to the locker room as we walk down the hallway. “Kane told me all about what happened with you and Sydney the night of the last game of the Finals. Your girl sounds like a freak. Not gonna lie. But it might be worth the wait. That’s all I’m saying. I practically killed myself to get Charlotte back. I’m never letting her go again. It’s hard to find a girl who will challenge you. Maybe that’s what you need.”

I cannot believe I’m getting relationship advice from Alex Parker. Before he met Coach, everyone knew him as the most scandalous player in the league. His last incident the media had called Puck of Shame after he staggered out of a dorm room at Georgetown University and got his rear traded to Philadelphia. Well, the sex scandal involving the granddaughter of the Washington Capital’s team owner is what landed him here. But he had a never-ending string of publicized drama for years that earned him a serious manwhore reputation.

Now he’s lecturing me, of all people, about women?

If anyone knows how to keep their nose clean, it’s me. Ever since I entered the league six years ago, I have worked my rear off, tried my hardest to keep up my save percentage. Hockey is my life. Women are not part of that equation. Or at least not long-term. A puck bunny or model here and there is fine. Maybe a stripper or two on occasion. They keep me satisfied and don’t require much hassle. But Sydney is doing a number on me.

After I take a shower, I talk to my coach about how I can work on my game. It has been trash for so many months I have no idea what happened or when it started. All I know is that one day I was killing it, my save percentage was off-the-charts, and then the next, I was missing pucks left and right. Now that I have Sydney messing with my head, the constant blue balls and games are killing my mojo even more.

Tyler left the Flyers’ practice facility in a rush, ignoring me on his way out of the building. He really needs to work on controlling his moods. I’m used to his temper tantrums. They don’t last long. And Parker was meeting Coach for lunch at a restaurant downtown. Luckily, I have a date. Or at least I think I have a date. I never know with Sydney. She keeps me guessing and on my toes.

Sydney invited me over to her apartment, said she had a surprise for me. That surprise had better be her spread eagle, waiting on her bed, and down to mess. Because I can’t have my arm going numb again during practice.

On my way over the bridge from New Jersey and into Philadelphia, a call comes through the Bluetooth speakers in my Hummer. I glance at the Caller ID. It’s Sydney.

“Hey, Princess. I’m on my way over.”

“You know, Carter, if you insist on calling me Princess, I will continue to call you big guy.”

As much as I hate that nickname because it reminds me of bad memories from my childhood, I don’t mind it as much when it comes out of Sydney’s mouth. It’s more of a term of endearment.

“You can call me whatever you want as long as you let me kiss you.”

“Carter,” she breathes into the phone, “you know the rules. But how about a trade?”

I smile. “What do you have in mind?”

“The purpose of this game is for us to get to know each other better. So, how about you tell me something about yourself that I want to know, and you get to kiss me.”

“What do you want to know?” I roll my eyes and hold my breath for her response.

This is the reason I never get too close to women. They always want to pick my brain, figure out why I’m still single, and why they never see me with other girls. I’ve been photographed with a puck bunny here and there, but never the same girl more than once. Just like Sydney, I have my own set of rules that I am breaking by pursuing this weird rear relationship with her.

“Your tattoo. I want to know more about it.”

“I hate talking about myself.” And I do. Incredible. She’s barking up the wrong tree with this question. Some secrets need to stay buried, locked away inside forever, and the meanings behind my tattoos are among them.

“You give a little, and I will give a little. It’s a compromise, Carter. Do you want to play the game or not?” She sounds annoyed, and a pissed off Sydney will probably harass the rest of my day up.

Why do I like this woman? She’s crazy. Oddly enough, her insanity is what piques my interest, leaves me wanting more. I could find another girl, a puck bunny or some willing participant to have a night of meaningless sex with, but I want Sydney. She’s the kind of crazy I need in my life, I guess.

“Fine. One question. That’s all you get.”

“See, that wasn’t so hard, big guy.” Her mood changes in an instant. “I’ll see you when you get here. I have to take a shower and get all pretty for you.”

“What’s the point? You’ll just get dirty again when I’m done with you.”

She laughs, and as she does, her deep laughter fills my car, creating an echo. “You’re hilarious. One kiss is not going to lead to the shower, darling, so you can get that out of your head right now. I get one question and answer, and you get one kiss.”

“Deal,” I say, grinning like an idiot. Who would’ve thought I would be this excited about a kiss. She didn’t say what kind of kiss, so that part is still open to interpretation. “I’m in Philly now. I’ll be at your apartment soon. No time for a shower, Princess. You’ll just have to wait for me to get there.”

She snorts into the phone. “I suppose I can wait until after you leave.”

As I make a right toward her building, I shake my head. She’s such a pain in my rear. “Planning on throwing me out when I get there, I see.”

“No, of course not. I have to make some use of you before I send you on your way.” She chuckles, thinking I can’t hear. But I can. I want to flip her over and spank her tight little donkey for that comment. “Well, I’m hanging up. I need to look presentable by the time you get here, and what I have on will not do.”

“You would look sexy in a trash bag.” I say the words and mean them. Sydney Carroway is runway model hot. In fact, she’s even hotter than some of the models I’ve taken out for a test drive. “But I’d rather see you with nothing on.”

Just thinking about her pussy makes my toe hard. I’ve seen it from a distance. Still, it’s not the same as spreading her open with my fingers. I had to watch her do it for me. We haven’t touched once, not unless you count the few times I brushed up against her or cupped my hand on her shoulder. The wait is driving me crazy.

“You’re cute, Carter. I’ll see you when you get here.”

Then, the line goes dead. Sydney hung up on me. The music I had on before her call blasts through the speakers, snapping me out of the trance Sydney had me under. But she has me. I’m so hers and ready to claim her.

Chapter 4

SYDNEY

Carter Donovan has no idea I am messing with him. I bet he thinks I’m an evil witch, toying with his toe along with his emotions. Maybe I am, or at least to some extent, but curse him for shaving his beard. I’m still pissed about that. When I walked into Tyler Kane’s house last weekend, he was dressed in gym clothes and had only a tiny bit of facial hair. I was disappointed, to say the least.

I was hoping to kick things off with his face shoved between my legs and that stubble rubbing against my skin. Over the past two days, Carter has called non-stop. He even sent flowers and gifts to my apartment. To be honest, I was shocked to receive such lavish presents from him. The Chanel sunglasses were a bit overboard, but at least I know he has good taste. And that’s an important quality in a man who I am considering dating.

Flipping through a magazine on my couch, I wait for Carter to knock on the door. He’s twenty minutes early again, same as last time. I didn’t even have a chance to hop in the shower before he said he was almost here.

Part of me wants to take him into my bedroom and have my way with him. The other part of me, the side that likes experimenting with the opposite sex for research purposes, tells me I should make him wait a little while longer. After all, our relationship could make for good writing material for my next book.

As the author of all things smutty and over-the-top, I draw a lot of my inspiration from experiences. Carter just doesn’t know that yet. Poor guy. Kennedy and I did the same thing with Tyler Kane when they had first met. He fell for that trash hook, line, and sinker. Now, the two of them are living together and practically married. There’s a method to my madness.

I fix my dark curls in the mirror on the wall next to the door and double check my makeup before opening it. Drool just about runs down my chin as I take in the sight of Carter. He’s one sexy hunk of man candy. With those big, strong arms that are more suited for boxing than hockey, I want him to grip me up in them and do bad things to me.

Carter smiles so wide it reaches up to his soulful brown eyes. “Hey, baby.”

“Don’t hey, baby, me,” I shoot back, feigning interest. But this is all part of the game.

He leans in to kiss my cheek, because I promised him one kiss, his fingers grazing my bare shoulder as he touches me, fiddling with the strap of my tank top. “You look beautiful, as always, Sydney.”

My willpower almost crumbles with his lips sending shockwaves down my spine. His big hand is dangerously close to my breast as he slides it the rest of the way down my arm. If he were a character in one of my books, I would say forget self-control and throw myself at him, allow myself to become consumed in his manly scent and intoxicating sex appeal.

“Thanks, big guy.” I tug on his forearm in an attempt to pull him into the apartment. He’s so big I can hardly move him an inch.

After Carter shuts the door, he surprises me by shoving me up against the wall. I do my best to get away from him, but he makes it difficult with his size. Carter is used to defending the net when he’s on the ice. He sure proves that right now as he blocks my entire view of the living room with his body.

Bending down to my height, he breathes against my neck and ignites a fire beneath my skin. Heat rushes from my cheeks to my toes as he presses his lips to my neck. I move my head to the side to give him better access, my inhibitions lowering along with my guard. The walls I have built up to protect myself come crumbling down in an instant.

My panties are damp. No, more like they are soaking wet. Each kiss Carter plants from my neck to my shoulder is more painful than I can bear. We can’t do this. Giving in to Carter before we even have our first date was not part of my plan.

Plus, his beard…There’s nothing rough scratching my skin as he continues to make his way to my breasts. And I want the full Carter Donovan experience. I will wait for the man with the hot as puck facial hair just so I can get a taste of what it feels like against my pussy.

In a tight, low-cut tank, my girls are out on display and Carter is about to dive head first into them. Before he can make a crash landing into my cleavage, I grip a chunk of his hair in my hand, so his gaze meets mine. His eyes are intense, the passion behind them so sexy I want to rip the fitted shirt from him.

“You like it rough, baby? Is that what you want?”

As much as I want to say, Idiot me up against this wall like one of your puck bunnies, I don’t want him to treat me like one of them either. Carter has earned a reputation as a ladies man over the years, and I have an image to protect. I cannot get sucked into a scandal. Though I can’t help but wonder if one involving Carter would help sell more books. Or at the very least, it may even give me new things to write.

“No, Carter. I would like you to stop touching me.”

I am the biggest liar on the planet. One minute of heavy petting with Carter and I already have to make up an excuse so I can go into my bedroom to change my underwear. My juices are threatening to spill down my leg any second. In a short, tight skirt, I’d rather keep this bit of information to myself.

Slipping from his grasp, I slide my back against the wall to get away from him. We need to put some distance between us before I rip my shirt off like the Hulk and leap into his arms, begging him to mess me.

“Did I do something wrong?” His tone is defensive.

I shake my head, doing my best to maintain some distance between us. “No, you didn’t do anything. It’s not you, it’s me.”

He narrows his eyes at me, confusion scrolling across his handsome face. “Don’t use that line on me.”

“Don’t get your boxers all twisted up in a bunch. Good things come to those who wait. I promise you that I will make it worth every second.”

Carter lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Whatever. You’re driving me crazy, woman.”

“You made a promise. Remember?” I stroke his chin with my fingers to make sure I have his attention. And I do. “You said you would tell me more about your tattoos. I want to know something personal about you. We can start with something small.”

“That’s not something small,” he says, irritated. What I wouldn’t give for Carter to go back to the sex-crazed animal he was two seconds ago. “You have no idea what you’re even asking me.” Gripping my rear in his hands, Carter picks me up and slams my back against the wall, this time more forceful than before. “If you want me to tell you more, I expect the same from you in return. No more messing around.”

I’m debating whether I should give into his request. “Fine,” I say and pull the shirt over my head. His eyes fall to my red lace bra. As he licks his lips, I take his hands and cup my breasts with them. “Is this what you want, big guy?”

He nods. “Yes, this is a good start.”

I take his left wrist in my hand and kiss the dark tattoo in black script writing that says, Lux in tenebris. “What does this one mean? I want to know more. Tell me all your secrets, Carter. You give, I give. It’s a win-win.”

He frowns, lowering his head to the ground. “I told you before. It means light in the darkness.”

“I get that, but what does it mean to you? You know you can learn a lot about a person from their tattoos.”

He raises an eyebrow at me. “Is that so?”

“Yup. I dated this guy who got a tattoo every time something significant happened in his life.” Carter looks away from me, biting the inside of his cheek. “Did you do the same thing? Is that why you have so many between all the tribal markings and lines of script?”

“Yes,” he breathes, now staring into my eyes. “I guess you could say I did the same thing. My tattoos are like a life road map if that makes sense.”

“Perfect sense.” I run my fingers along his skin, feeling his tattoos. The more I touch him, the more I realize there’s scar tissue beneath the ink. “What are you hiding underneath this road map? Did you have an awful case of acne or chicken pox?”

“No.” His voice comes off like a growl. “A lot worse.” Carter leaves it at that.

“You can trust me.” And I mean it. “We all have things in our past we want to hide. Would you be surprised that I dated my English teacher for most of high school? I lost my virginity to him.”

He scowls. “I wish I could say he was a lucky guy to have you, but he took advantage. That’s just wrong. When I was in high school, I was lucky if I could get a girl to glance in my direction.”

My plan and the truth worked. Now, I need to keep digging. “What were you like in high school?”

He shrugs, then, lets go of my breasts, his hands dropping down to his sides. “I was weird. Overweight. High school was rough for me. I hated it.”

I’m in awe of Carter’s revelation. “I can’t imagine you being overweight or weird.” I grab hold of his arms and lock onto him, getting his full attention. “You’re so sexy you make my panties melt. I’m sure you had the same effect on the girls at your high school.”

“If I make you so wet, then let me help you out with your problem, Princess.” He bends down to suck on my neck, leaving a trail of kisses on my skin as he clutches my waist, dragging me into his chest. “You promised me a kiss. I want to kiss your pussy and see for myself how wet I make you.”

“Carter,” I moan as he unhooks my bra, the straps sliding down my shoulders. “You still haven’t told me what your tattoo means. Just give me that one, and I will leave you alone. At least for now.”

He stops kissing my breasts just long enough to peek up at me. “Why is my past so important to you? There are some things I don’t like talking about, and the past is one of them.”

I tug at the waistband of his pants, sliding my hand far down enough that I can tell he manscaped for me. My fingers brush up against the tip of his erection. I want to do a more thorough inspection, but I know I need to stop myself from going any further.

“For once, I want to know the man I am having sex with on a more intimate level.” That statement catches his attention, and he perks up a little bit. “I like you, Carter, and if I’m right about you, this could work out between us. We’re both closed off in our own ways. I have secrets, and you have yours. But we’ll never get to know each other if we don’t give in a little and open up.”

“I’m not ready to do that. Sorry.” He takes a step back from me.

Now, that I’m standing here topless, with my girls out on display and a dripping wet pussy, aching for Carter to touch, I have no idea what to do next. I want something more intimate. And Carter apparently wants meaningless sex.

“I guess I was wrong about you,” I say, deflated.

“No, you weren’t wrong about me. I like you, too, Sydney. Otherwise, I would not have put up with these games all week. If all I wanted was sex, I could’ve called up any of the girls in my Contacts and had them over to my house to use however I want. It’s not that hard for me to find pussy when I want it.”

I snort. “I’m sure it’s not. They want the monster cock.” I want it, too. But, not yet, not until he opens up to me.

Taking charge, Carter wraps his arms around me, plastering my breasts against his chiseled chest. His cock is so hard and big it presses into my stomach. Gazing into my eyes, he says, “You’ll have to give me more time. All right? I’m not ready to do what you what.”

I nod, about to speak, when he plants a soft kiss on my lips, sucking on my bottom lip before he shoves his tongue into my mouth, using so much force it takes me by surprise. The aggressive side of Carter turns me on so much my panties are drenched. He’s breaking my rules. But I don’t care.

A kiss on the neck or my breasts was all I had planned to allow before he kissed me, making me powerless. He commands power over my body, and with each second, he strips me of my willpower. Except, he forgets we’re still playing a game. I gave him something in return for the small piece of information he shared with me.

Separating my lips from his, breathless and disoriented, I stagger back. “That was…” I can’t even finish the thought because he rocked my body and mind with that kiss. “You see how this works now, big guy?” It’s a question, not a statement.

“Got it, Princess. But you will have to be patient.”

“Patience is not a virtue I possess,” I deadpan. “But I’ll take what I can get and so will you. Are we clear?”

He blows out a puff of air that causes a piece of my hair to fall on my face. “Crystal.”

I tuck the hair behind my ear. “Good. I’m glad we’re on the same page.” Then, I spin on my heel and walk toward my bedroom to change my panties.

After the number Carter just did on me, I cannot possibly sit here like this for the rest of the night. I should let him take care of what he started, but he needs to finish the conversation before I give him more.

“You’re crazy woman, you know that?” He calls out from behind me.

His comment brings a smile to my face. Of course, I know that. “While that may be true, you cannot get enough of my extra special brand of crazy.”

He grunts in agreement, and I laugh to myself as I enter my bedroom, wondering how long it will take him to grow back his beard and start opening up to me. Let the countdown begin.

Chapter 5

Carter

Sydney Carroway is the crowned Queen of Blue Balls. All hail the Queen. She has me so horny, taunting me with her giant rack and tight rear, and loving every minute of my pain. I wish women knew the real meaning of blue balls. They have no idea the physical agony. Not that it compares to child birth, but still…my sack is about two seconds away from shriveling up and falling off if I have to endure another night of Sydney flaunting her assets in my face.

I have never had a problem getting laid. Well, at least not since I grew into my baby fat from high school and joined the hockey team. Now, all I have to do is dial one of the girls on my list, and they come running over like Domino’s Pizza—hot, ready, and here within thirty minutes. Not Sydney, though, she gets her rocks off on messing with me.

Sydney comes out from the bedroom with a satisfied smile on her face. Either she just got herself off, or she’s enjoying this torture. I know she wants me. Her nipples were hard and popping through her top when I kissed her neck. She stopped breathing for so long that I thought she had run out of air. Then, she flipped the switch on me.

I’m still hard, despite my best attempts not to think about her belly or that perfect rear. Good thing I’m wearing jeans this time though I’m sure knowing how turned on I am will only cause her to smile more. She enjoys this trash too much. I knew going into this that Kennedy had played with Tyler, all at the request of Sydney. But the moment I laid eyes on her, I had to get her in bed. If only she’d let me get that far.

Sydney walks into the kitchen, throwing her black curls over her shoulder and flashing me a sexy smirk. I hate that she takes pleasure in my pain. She’s a sadist. So am I. She just doesn’t know it yet.

I like her. There’s something about this woman that I find so intriguing. I cannot put my finger on it. She’s a mystery, impossible to figure out. And that makes me work harder to find out what she’s hiding from me.

Why does she enjoy these games so much?

I never met a woman like her before. Most girls throw themselves at me and want to tie themselves to a rich hockey player, but not Sydney. Everything she does is planned out, calculated, yet makes no sense at the same time. She confuses the heck out of me.

“Here you go,” Sydney says, handing me a bottle of beer, shaking her belly in my face as she leans over.

I take the beer with one hand and grab her by the waist with the other. She doesn’t swat me away. Shocker. Instead, she sucks in a deep breath, her eyes closed and chin pointed up to the ceiling.

If she wants this, then why does she fight it so much?

It’s obvious that she’s attracted to me. With a girl like Sydney, I would not even be here if she wasn’t interested. She’s the kind of woman that summons you, tells you when it’s okay to step into her world. I dated a few girls like her over the years but none to this extreme. The game of hers is on a whole new level.

“Carter,” she moans, allowing me to scoop her up and set her down on my lap. Her eyes finally open and she locks onto me with those big blue irises that had caught my attention the first time we met.

Before she can say another word, I lean over to put my beer on the table in front of me, reaching around Sydney and in the process pulling her closer. As I run my hands down her arms, her skin pricks with little bumps. She wants this more than she will ever admit. Her nipples poke through the thin material of her tank once more. And this time, I cup her breast in my hand, feeling her through the shirt. She didn’t even bother to put her bra back on.

“Carter,” she says, licking her lips as I look up at her.

“You want this, baby. Stop fighting me.”

“Mmm,” she says, as I pull down her shirt, exposing her breast to the cold air, causing the tiny bud to harder even more. “We shouldn’t…”

“We should,” I tell her with confidence before I roll my tongue over her nipple. “Harass the rules.”

She runs her fingers through my hair. The noises that escape her lips are so sexy they’re worth the last few days of never-ending blue balls. A man can only jerk off so many times before he needs the real thing. Pushing down her shirt further, I take her other breast in my hand, massaging it as I suck on her nipple, giving it a little bite.

That earns me another cry of pleasure, and she grips my hair tighter. Her breasts are so big even my hands are not large enough to cover all the square footage. And the best part about them is that they’re real. I love big belly as much as the next man, but there’s something about real, full breasts that are so much better than implants. This is a nice change of pace after the last few girls.

Moving my hand down her stomach and between her legs, I continue planting kisses on her skin, forcing her body to tremble. I spread her legs in one swift motion, then, I make my way up her thigh, stopping for a second to peel back her silky panties before I plunge a finger inside her wetness.

She calls out my name, this time through clenched teeth, her voice almost a whisper.

“My goodness, baby. Look how wet you are for me. I knew you wanted this.”

“I can’t,” she mutters. “I shouldn’t…”

I add another finger, pushing further as her juices coat my skin. “Then make me stop.”

All I get is a loud groan in response. Sydney tilts her head back while holding onto a chunk of my hair.

“You don’t want me to stop. It feels good. I know it does. You’re a dirty little girl, and you like it when I finger your pussy. Don’t you?”

“Uh-huh,” she whispers. “Don’t stop, Carter.”

Then, my cell phone rings. I already know by the ringtone that it’s Jenny, my sister, calling on the other end of the line, which takes my head out of the game. I had plans for Sydney. Unfortunately for her, getting her wet and withholding her orgasm was all part of my revenge plot. I can tell she’s close, so close that I’m not sure if she’ll ever talk to me again after I do this, but at least it will be worth it.

My phone keeps ringing, annoying the trash out of me. We need to stop. I need a break to check in on my sister. So, I withdraw my fingers from Sydney and bring them up to my mouth to get a taste.

Sydney’s eyes open as wide as her mouth does. She’s panting and out of breath. “Wh—what are you doing?”

“I have to get going.” I lie, because I need to call my sister back, and I don’t need an audience when I do it. “I have a training session in the morning at Tyler’s house. Need to get my rest.”

I laugh on the inside, all while keeping a straight face. If Sydney wants to play games with me, I’ll show her how much it sucks to have someone mess with your orgasms. “We should pick up where we left off another night. Maybe on Thursday.”

She’s still staring at me in shock, unsure of what to say next. This must be a first for her. Two can play this game. Seeing the Queen knocked down a peg, vulnerable and irritated, gives me more satisfaction than if she were to whip out my cock and suck it. As much as I’d love to have those full lips wrapped around me right now, I’d rather go home and jerk off again than let her win.

Leaving Sydney with a taste of her own medicine makes my sad, lonely night with my hand worth it. I still have thoughts of her tight, wet pussy to get me through until I can have the real thing. At least now, I know how she feels and tastes instead of imagining it. Eventually, one of us has to give in, and since she started it first, I will wait her out. Or at least I will try.

* * *

As soon as I get in my car, I remove my cell phone from my pocket. I already have four text messages in addition to Jenny’s voicemail. Holding my breath, I open the messages, all of which read Call me back or It’s important.

Everything is important when it comes to Jenny. She’s my older sister, the woman who raised me, and the closest I have to a decent female role model in my life. My mother passed away when I was nine, leaving me with a drunken jerk of a father and Jenny. She had just started high school when a fatal car crash had killed my mother.

After all these years, I still have trouble remembering my mom. It’s been so long since the last time I saw her face or heard her voice that the only reminder I have of her anymore are pictures. And they’re all filled with lies. In some ways, my mother was the lucky one. She got away from my dad, escaped from all the pain and abuse. My father never survived the tragedy, blamed us for everything that had happened. As if my sister and I had anything to do with our mother’s death. We were strangers in our own house, treated as if we didn’t belong.

Dear old dad was the Sheriff in the small town where I grew up. He could get away with murder. Instead, he abused his seat of power and took every bit of his rage out on his family. I was surprised how shaken up he was about my mother, especially since he was almost as bad to her as he was to my sister and me.

Called to the scene of the accident, my father had to watch as the firefighters pulled my mother from what was left of her car. She was already gone at that point. And he was never the same man. I can’t say I blame him for how he acted afterward. I doubt I would have survived something so tragic.

But I do blame him for all the beatings and the torment. I blame him for all the darkness that had come into our lives. Jenny always reminds me that our mother was like a ray of sunshine. She was the light to my father’s darkness. If only someone would shine a light on mine.

With shaky hands, I hit Jenny’s number on my screen and hold the phone up to my ear. The phone rings a few times before she finally picks up.

“Hey, baby bro,” she says in a singsong tone. “Where have you been? Did you get my messages?”

“Jenny, you only called ten minutes ago.” Annoyed with her attitude, I suck in a deep breath and blow it out. “I have a life. I was in the middle of something when you called.”

“You know I worry about you, Carter.” She worries way too much about me. Ever since our mother died, she watches over me, as if she’s my guardian angel. “Is everything okay? How’s hockey going for you?”

“Horrible,” I confess, still ashamed by my performance at practice today. “My game is off, and I have no idea why I’m so…unfocused. I don’t know how to fix it. If I could just pinpoint where I went wrong, start all over, maybe I could figure things out. Tyler’s been helping me, but nothing has worked for me.”

“Well, snap out of it and get your focus back.” Her tone is so intense and severe. When Jenny is in a room, her presence demands attention. She can command mine without even being nearby. “I’m coming to see you. I can help you.”

She’s always been so strong, and I admire that about her. Jenny is the reason I go after strong women like Sydney. I grew up with Jenny bossing me around, reminding me to get to practice on time and what foods to eat to stay in shape. If anyone has been my coach, it’s Jenny. It’s also the reason I don’t mind Sydney and her game.

I laugh a little too loud, and that earns me a snide remark. “Hey, don’t make me come down there and kick your rear, baby bro.”

I smile at her words. “I’m not a baby, and I’d like to see you try.”

“Yeah,” she says, playful, “but I would kill myself trying. I’m serious about coming down to see you. It’s been three months, if not longer, since the last time we saw each other.”

“Jenny, I have to figure this out on my own. You can’t hold my hand through life.”

“Yes, I can, and I will.” Her irritation is evident in her tone. “I have been here through all the good times and the bad, Carter. I don’t care if I have to get into a pair of skates and stand next to the net with you, but I am going to get you back to normal. Whatever is bothering you, we will figure it out together.”

“Jen, c’mon, can you leave it alone? I just need time to work on things.”

“No, because if you fail, so do I. And I will not let that happen. Do you understand me?” In some ways, Jenny is right. She’s the reason I found hockey, the light to my darkness back when I needed something to fill the void. Jenny was my cheerleader and has always been my biggest fan. If I needed a ride to practice, she was there to drive me. When I outgrew my skates, Jenny worked extra shifts at the diner to get me new ones.

I sigh at her comment. Because I know she’s right, and I hate to admit it. “Fine. When are you coming?”

She squeals with delight. “Let me check with Steve, but I should be able to come down in the next month or so. With Kyle in daycare, I need to figure out an exact date, but I will let you know as soon as Steve gets home from work. Sound good?”

“Yes, that works for me.” I grin like an idiot at the thought of my sister coming to visit. My goodness, I missed her and knowing she will be here soon, gives me hope. “Are you coming with Kyle and Steve?”

“I’m not sure yet. Let me see what Steve wants to do. No matter what, you will get me at a bare minimum.”

“Okay. Just text me the dates later.” I turn the key in the ignition, and the Hummer comes to life. Sydney might get the wrong idea if she looks out into the parking lot of her apartment complex and finds me parked here like some stalker. Especially after I’d told Sydney I had things to do. That part was not a lie, but I did want to mess with her head and her body, the same way she has mine.

“Yay!” She yells into my ear, forcing me to hold the phone away from my ear. “Talk soon. Love you, baby bro.”

“Love you, too, big sis.”

I smile as I hang up the phone. Maybe Jenny can help me sort out my trash and get me back on track. I keep my fingers crossed that will happen because my team needs her. They just don’t know it yet.

Chapter 6

Sydney

If the screen could talk back, what would it say?

Random trash like that pops into my head as I stare at my computer monitor for the thousandth time today. I am one crazy rear jerk. Maybe I should idiot Carter and get it out of my system.

Distracted by Carter and his rock hard body and sexy smirk, I cannot stop thinking about how he fingered my pussy, and then bailed on me as if that wasn’t a nasty thing to do. I guess I deserved it. After all, I did start this game.

As a romance author, I spend a lot of my time locked away in my writing cave for hours or days on end. Today is no different. With my current deadlines, I’m cranking out between five to ten thousand words per day, typing faster than I had ever imagined. Or at least I was until I met Carter. He screwed up everything, messed with my Zen. I need it back.

How did I let him get under my skin?

One thing I’ve always had with men are boundaries. Rules and limits are what keep them in check. Otherwise, they’ll walk all over you, or at least that’s my experience with men.

Staring at the document on my screen, my mind drifts between Carter and my story. Get the heck out of my head! Toned arms, thick calves, chiseled abs, a jerk you can bounce quarters off, and that smile…Idiot, idiot, idiotety idiot. I cannot have that sexy caveman invade my writing zone—not unless he wants to find himself in one of my books. At the rate we’re going, that is an excellent possibility. Horny romance author strings along hot as puck hockey player, challenging him to a game. A very kinky sex game.

That could work.

I pick up the notepad and pen in front of me, biting down on the cap, as I consider this idea for a book. But how would it work? Could I even sell a book like this? I could pitch it to my editor and see if he thinks I’m crazy. He usually does, but that doesn’t stop him from going along with my ideas. Because my brand of crazy sells.

Carter has me under a spell. Stringing him along until I make a decision should be easy. But I already made a choice. I want him so bad I can feel him deep down in my bones, aching to be with him. Too bad I have rules, all of which are in place for a reason. By now, he either thinks I have lost my mind or understands that I am in control of this situation. Control is essential for me.

My cell phone rings, vibrating across my desk and toward me. I’m thrilled to have a distraction but also afraid that Carter is on the other end of the call. Or what if it’s my editor? With my writing going nowhere and Carter on the brain, I could be at this plotting trash all day. I hate deadlines, and the outlines my editor insists I write for my books.

That only leads to more half-ended ideas, like the one I’m mulling over for Carter, and a lot of wasted time on my part. And time equals money in this business. If I can’t crank out the books on a decent schedule, the money will disappear along with my sales.

Relief washes over me when I check my Caller ID and see it’s my bestie and co-blogger, Kennedy. I have missed her so much lately. My face lights up, a smile reaching up to my eyes and hurting my jaw it’s so wide.

Before she met hotshot Tyler Kane we were an unstoppable duo. Kennedy was the Long Sticks to my Hard Shots in our crazy sports themed sex blog called Long Sticks and Hard Shots. She’s a sports reporter, always adding the sports puns and humor to my sexy, raunchy articles. Now, I hardly ever see her.

We almost never get together to plot out our week of blog posts or new ideas for our followers. Kennedy had moved into Tyler’s mansion with him in New Jersey, just on the other side of the bridge, right after things had gotten serious. Their relationship progressed at an insane rate.

I pick up the phone and hold it up to my ear. “Hey, K. Perfect timing.”

“Oh, yeah? Let me guess. You’re in the middle of writing a scene, and you’re stuck again?” I can hear the condescension in her tone.

She knows me so well it brings a smile to my face. I love that we have this sister thing between us, which makes me miss her even more now that Tyler has stolen her away from me. “How did you guess?” I deadpan.

“I have best friend super powers,” she jokes, laughing to herself. “What are you having trouble with this time? Do you need another word for cock? You know Tyler still hasn’t let me live that one down. I doubt he ever will.”

Because of me, Kennedy had asked Tyler over the phone, before they had ever met, for another word for cock. Because he’s a gentleman, he gave her a few words before she had the chance to cut him off. She thought he was some random pervert. That was their first interaction.

He said he knew she was a keeper after that night. Or at least that’s what he said a while after they started dating. The two of them are weird and quirky, and that sort of thing works for them. Kind of like Carter and me.

I envy the relationship Kennedy has built with Tyler. It all happened so fast. What had started out as just hot sex had turned into a lot more than they had expected. Tyler was, I guess you could say, broken before my Kennedy got a hold of him. She has a way of fixing people who need help. Kennedy sure as trash did it with me back in high school. To this day, she still thinks I saved her, but I was the one who needed saving.

“No, I think I have enough words for cock saved in my arsenal at this point. It’s Carter.” I suck in a deep breath and let it out, gazing out the window of my office. “He infuriates me.”

All day I zoned out, contemplating my relationship with Carter. Should I give in?

“I don’t know what to do about Carter,” I confess.

“What’s there to think about?” She says this as if dating a professional hockey player is the easiest choice for me. I have enough attention directed at me because of my romance novels. “He’s hot, probably amazing in bed, and you like him. I don’t see the problem, Syd. This should be a no-brainer for you.”

She’s right. Kennedy is always right when it comes to dating and my love life. Too bad I never listen to anyone. I am a stubborn rear and even more so when it comes to men. Despite what people may think based on my personal appearance, I do not have my trash together. And I certainly do not have it all figured out when it comes to the opposite sex.

For as many men fall at my feet, gushing over me, the other half use me for sex or a date for a charity event. That’s the part most people don’t see—Kennedy included. She has me placed so high up on a pedestal that even my best friend thinks of me as above other women. Except I have no clue what I am doing. I just make trash up as I go along. And playing games, like the one I have going with Carter, is the only way I know how to safeguard my heart.

That’s my superpower. As long as I can keep my defenses up, no one can get through the impenetrable wall I have built around myself. It works for me, and while not everyone will understand, it’s the only thing I have ever known.

“I like him.” I sigh because I hate to admit it aloud. “Carter is hot and built and everything I would usually go for, but I’m also afraid he just wants sex. He’ll bail as soon as I give in.”

“He definitely wants sex.” I cringe at her words. “Last night, he stopped by the house after your date and complained to Tyler and me for about an hour.” She chuckles, apparently finding this amusing. I wish I did. “What did you do to him? He was really pissed.”

Last night, we actually watched TV and didn’t touch each other once. It was weird, but I still had a good time. Carter refused to open up to me again, so I bought a movie on cable, and we watched it in almost silence. After that stunt he pulled the other night, he deserved the cold shoulder. I finally gave into him, allowed him to kiss and touch me, and then he wouldn’t even let me come. I was not about to set myself up for that failure again.

“See, I knew that was all he was looking for out of me,” I tell Kennedy, annoyed. “You know I am getting so sick and tired of all the expectations. Just because I write romance novels for a living doesn’t mean I walk around without panties and flash my pussy to the first guy who glances in my direction.”

Kennedy laughs in my ear before composing herself. “I think you’re overacting, Syd. Yes, he wants sex. He’s a man. They’re pretty much hardwired to think that way. But I also believe he likes you. In the time I have known Tyler, I have yet to hear Carter complain about a woman he was dating. In fact, I have never heard him mention a single girl until you. That tells me you are getting under his skin. I think he’ll play along with you, but at some point, you will need to bend a little.”

“I told him I would make it worth the wait.” My tone is so defensive I almost don’t recognize my voice. Then, I feel sorry for taking out my frustration on Kennedy. “He needs to wait and see what I have in store for him. It will be worth every second. I just…” I have no idea what else there is to say about my predicament with Carter.

Why do I feel the need to justify why I am doing this? Is it not obvious to my best friend, the one person in this world who really understands me?

“Oh, I don’t doubt that.” Kennedy snorts as she laughs. “You’ll work your Sydney Voodoo and have Carter begging for more by the time you’re through with him.”

I roll my eyes as I kick my feet up on the desk and lean back in my chair. “While that may be true, I’m not so sure if Carter will play the game with me much longer. He was acting weird last night. It could be fun, maybe even heighten our sexual experience, if he follows my lead. But I think he’s losing interest.”

“Based on the part of the conversation I heard between Tyler and Carter, I would say you are wrong. As long as you’re clear about what you expect of him and how this will go down, he’ll hang in there for the long haul. Just bend some. Otherwise, you might break him. Tyler said he’s never seen Carter this interested in a girl he just met. I would say that’s a good sign for you.”

“I miss you, K,” I breathe into the phone. “We need to hang out soon. Tyler stole you away, and I want you back, even if it’s only for a day. We need to work out an agreement. You’re stuck in the middle, the two of us playing tug-a-war with you.”

“He didn’t steal me.” Her voice is soft, calm.

“Yes, he did,” I spit back. “Tyler is the ultimate groin blocker. I don’t like how much of your time he snatches from you. We have things we could be doing. Like planning our blog posts for the next month. That time would be better spent with me, of course.”

“Of course,” she says, matter-of-fact. “How about we meet in the city this week? I have an interview scheduled with the Sixers general manager, and I will be in town for a few hours. I can hang out with you after I’m finished. Would that work?”

“Fine,” I huff, “I will take what I can get. But I’m serious about working out a schedule. We have a lot to cover for the blog. Between our schedules and the men drama, our posts have gone out later than normal. Our followers are going to hate us if we don’t get our trash together.”

“I’m sure they are doing fine without us.” I’m shocked by the seriousness in her voice. “They’ve been with us long enough that they will hang in there until we find more time to write and schedule our posts.”

Before Tyler came crashing into her life, Kennedy loved writing articles for the blog, found a certain amount of enjoyment from entertaining our readers. Things have changed so much over time that I have yet to come to terms with it. I know this is for the best for Kennedy. But the selfish side of me wants my bestie all to myself. No one can fault me for that.

“I happen to know some of our followers wait each week for our posts, and I for one, do not want to disappoint them. Whatever you have going on with Tyler is fine by me, but you need to get it together, babe. Get your head out of your rear and back into our writing. We have a trash ton of stuff to go over this week.”

The line is silent for a few seconds, causing me to wonder if she hung up. I check the phone, and the call is still connected. “Hello. Are you there?”

“Yes.” She grunts into the receiver. “Sorry.”

“Don’t get all pissy with me. I am only stating a fact. Ever since you met Tyler, you have completely checked out on our blog and me. You never have time for girl stuff or even your own newspaper. That’s all well and good that you’re getting so much rear you don’t have a chance to hang out with your dearest friend, but you have other priorities. Sports Buzz will not survive if you don’t write articles and get sponsors and trash that actually matters.”

“No, you’re absolutely right. I’m sorry, Syd.” Her apology is sincere.

She sounds so deflated that I feel awful for being such a jerk. But as her friend, I do not want to see her ruin her life over a guy. I already did that once before. It takes a long time to build everything back up from nothing. She has worked her rear off to get where she is and I cannot standby and watch her throw her life away for a guy she hasn’t know very long. No matter how hot and rich he may be.

“I got a little wrapped up in everything in my life that I haven’t taken much time to stop and check out everything around me. I’m sorry, Syd. Do you still love me? You must think I’m such a jerk and that I’m now one of those girls.”

She means the kind of girl that falls off the face of the earth just because she gets a boyfriend. Yep, she has become one of them.

“You’re fine. I still love you, but please get your trash together. You have a life outside of Tyler and his monster cock. Anyway, where do you want to meet this week?”

“You love talking about his cock way too much.” She chuckles to herself. “How about Broad Street Beans? It’s close to your house and not far from the Wells Fargo Center.”

Knowing I will see Kennedy has me grinning like a fool. I miss our girl time. She’s my only girl friend. I never got along well with other girls, and most of my friends, apart from Kennedy, were men. I was always more comfortable with the opposite sex. The competitions between women are often so volatile that I steered clear of any drama by having one female friend I could trust and surrounded myself with guys to occupy the rest of my time.

I take a sip from the coffee cup on my desk and smile. “Perfect. I’ll see you then.”

My other line clicks in, alerting me of another caller. I peel the phone from my ear and check out the Caller ID. It’s Carter. I stop breathing for a second. My goodness, this man is persistent. Maybe he’s worth the hassle after all.

“Sounds good,” Kennedy says, excited.

“Hey, babe. I have Carter calling on the other line. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Okay, bye!” And then she’s gone, leaving me to deal with Carter alone. My stomach flutters from the nervous energy and the anticipation of what’s to come.

Not that he’s a problem I need to sort out but curse him for throwing me off my game. I haven’t been able to write a decent paragraph since he walked into my life. I cannot have a string of days like this week, or I will be out of a job.

“Hello,” I say, switching the calls, nonchalant.

“Hey, sexy.” What’s sexy is his panty-melting voice. My underwear is already pooling from two words. Two words. He is going to be the death of me.

“Well, hello there, big guy. To what do I owe the pleasure?” My voice is a whisper, and I have trouble catching my breath. Can he tell? I hope not. A man like Carter Donovan takes pleasure in getting me wet. When it comes to that department, he has no problem. I can only imagine what sex with him would be like.

“Nothing. I wanted to see what you are you up to.” His husky voice sounds louder this time, more in control.

“Not much. The usual trash.” I frown at my computer screen. “I’m trying to write with almost no success, unfortunately. Some days the words fly onto the page, while others I sit here and pound coffees and watch porn.”

He laughs so hard it hurts my ear. “You’re watching porn? I hope it’s the real kinky trash.”

I scoff at his comment. “What like it’s so hard to believe that I watch porn? Women watch porn, you know.” I can hear the irritation in my voice, and I don’t like it. Why am I so moody and defensive lately? “There’s some good material in those videos. They help me write the super smutty scenes. You can learn a lot about what works and doesn’t work from watching sex on film.”

“That’s so hot that you like porn. Mmm…You’re making me so hard right now, baby.”

Contemplating his predicament and now my own, I shout out the first thing that comes to mind. “Oh, yeah. How hard are you right now?”

“Really hard. I wish you were here to help me out with this.”

I could use some new writing material and an orgasm, so I roll with my idea. What do I have to lose? “Carter, I want you to do something for me.”

“Anything.” He’s practically panting in my ear, ready to get it on.

“Grab your cock, give yourself a few strokes, and imagine me fingering my pussy.”

“Incredible, babe. Are you really?” I hear him unzip his pants, followed by noises that I can only assume are him jerking himself off. And it turns me on like no other. I wish I could see him in action.

With my legs still propped up on my desk, I push up my skirt and peel back my panties. I cradle the phone between my ear and shoulder and rub my clit first before I slip my fingers inside my wetness. “Uh-huh,” I mutter. “I’m so wet for you, Carter. I have my legs spread open on my desk and my fingers inside me. All for you.”

“Idiot,” he grunts, and I pick up the pace.

It’s as if we’re in the same room again, except this time we have no visual. I have to recall Carter’s massive cock from memory.

“Sydney, you’re killing me. You know that.”

“Yes,” I purr, imaging Carter massaging himself.

And I can’t wait to have him inside me. Every night since we met, I have done the exact same thing—masturbated to the thought of him me. I want him so bad I should give in, submit to his every desire, and fulfill all his fantasies.

While Carter might be used to being the aggressor with women, he has allowed me to boss him around and plays along with my game. The power of my pussy has made him my jerk. But when I finally give into him, I want him to take charge and idiot me like he means it. Idiot me as if it’s the last thing he will ever do in this world.

“Tell me what you want me to do to you, Carter. I need to hear it. I want you to tell me all the dirty things you want to do to me.”

He groans in response. “I want you to suck my cock. I’m thinking about your lips wrapped around me, taking all of me until I come in your mouth. And I want you to swallow. All of it. Like a good little whore.”

“Yeah,” I say, my insides clamping down on my fingers. I’m so close, and with Carter’s help, this might be one of the best orgasms I ever had. “If you were here right now, I’d take your big, fat cock in my hand, lick from your shaft to the head, just to tease you, before taking all of you in my mouth. You like that, Carter?”

“Right, baby. After you’re done, I’d want you to straddle me, ride me like the dirty little girl you are, and come all over my toe.”

“Harass this is hot,” I moan into the phone. My juices are running down my leg, and the faster my fingers move, the closer I am to finding the sweet spot. “Keep going, Carter. I’m close, and I want you to come with me. Okay?” I can barely speak the words I am so out of breath.

“Me, too, baby. Me, too.” He pauses for a second, but it’s too late.

I don’t need him to keep going. My heart is beating out my chest, ready to explode. An intense heat spreads from my cheeks and chest down to my toes. Everything feels as though it’s on fire from Carter and this sexy-as-idiot phone sex. Not to mention the sound of his deep voice telling me he wants me to come on his toe. This experience is so erotic.

As an orgasm wrecks me, making my body tremble and go numb in the process, all I can think about is Carter’s body, his soulful brown eyes, his dirty mouth that knows all the right things to say, and those adorable smiles he gives me when he’s trying to win me over. He reminds of a boy sometimes, so playful and innocent.

Underneath it all, there’s that burly man I want to own me, make me his, and idiot me senseless. I like when he’s the aggressor and takes control. But there are times when he lets me walk all over him, causing me to wonder if he’s in this just for sex or if he wants the whole package.

“Carter,” I moan, biting down on my lip to stifle my screams. “I’m coming…all over my fingers. Just for you.” I lean my head back against the chair and let my body take over. “Come for me.”

“I am, baby,” he says, through clenched teeth. The sound of his flesh slapping together makes this so much more intense. “So hard.”

And when he comes, it’s probably the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard. No, it’s definitely the hottest thing I’ve ever heard. Like I could die right now, happy as trash and that would keep the smile on my face. I love the sounds men make in bed. Sometimes that alone is more of a turn on. But Carter takes it to a whole other level. Thank idiot he’s not one of those silent cummers. I can’t stand those.

“Wow,” he finally says after he catches his breath. “The next time I see you, that pussy is mine. You got it? No more playing games with me. No messing around.”

I drop my legs to the floor and lean over to grab a few tissues from my desk to clean myself up. “Yes,” I hiss. “Must I remind you that you had agreed to play with me? And you never answered my question.”

“Don’t try that trash with me, Sydney. I know you’re just pretending to hold out. We are going to mess one way or another. And you will like it. You’ll love it. You won’t be able to get enough of me.”

“You sound way too confident in your ability to get me into bed,” I challenge, loving the fact he’s on to me. I can still use this to my advantage.

“It’s not even a question. I know I can. You’ll be begging me to bend you over and forget you instead of giving me that trash about how I can’t touch you. And I’m coming to collect.”

“If you like my games so much, then what’s your prize if you win?” I really do enjoy toying with him.

“Your pussy, of course.” I can hear the cockiness in his tone.

I frown even though I am excited about him claiming my pussy. It does not belong to him yet. “What about me? I’m feeling a little left out that my pussy gets all the attention.”

“You were a given, considering you’re kind of attached.” He laughs to himself, apparently finding this conversation amusing. I could not agree more.

“Then come get me,” I dare, sitting up straight in my chair, my body aching for a hot shower. “I have to get going. Lots to do today. Talk soon.”

Before he can answer, I click the end call button. It’s all part of my master plan. Keep him wanting more.

Spent after that session, I need a nap just to refuel so I can get back to writing. My deadline is still looming over my head. At least Carter helped me with of one of my problems. He was taking up too much of the headspace I need to write my skanky stories.

Now that I’ve gotten him out of my system, I can shower, get some shut eye for a few hours, and go back to working on my book. My editor will be thankful for the distraction Carter provided me. He also managed to help me out with some new material I plan to use. While the new book idea involves experimenting on Carter, he doesn’t seem to mind and will play along if I keep him satisfied in the process. Game on.

Chapter 7

Sydney

As per the usual, Kennedy is already waiting for me when I walk through the door of Broad Street Beans for our lunch date. No matter the occasion, I am never on time. My mother always jokes that I will show up late to my wedding. And I counter with how I will be late to my funeral. Both of these scenarios are a serious possibility given my lack of time management. I could set my alarm clock three hours ahead of the time I need to be somewhere. It wouldn’t matter. I would still end up five minutes late.

Some would call it rude, others lazy or inconsiderate, but I attempt to show up on schedule. For whatever reason, life always has another plan for me. I am stuck in traffic, or the car won’t start, or I can’t find my wallet. There is something every time without fail as if the universe is pulling me in another direction.

I walk over to Kennedy, who is plugging away on her laptop. She must be working on the story from this morning. As the owner of Sports Buzz, a small online paper she was able to save from her family’s fire sale, Kennedy works her rear off.

Getting interviews from top players in pro sports has not been easy for her, despite her best efforts. Ever since Tyler came into her life, doors have opened up, and her online newspaper is thriving. Or at least she’s making enough money to keep it afloat.

In the zone when I walk up to the table, Kennedy steals a few glances at the shorthand notes she has on the notepad next to her computer, unaware I am standing above her, waiting for her to notice me. I love watching her work. When she’s on point, Kennedy can really hammer out articles like nobody’s business.

She studied communications at NYU, while I was off at writing conferences and touring the country for my first published book. I would visit her on the weekends and whenever I could manage enough time to get away from the constant pressure my publisher had me under.

But things have only gotten worse for me in the past six years since I became a best selling author. The work never stops, fans want more, and the deadlines get tighter as I go. But Kennedy takes it in stride, despite being on the last of her savings and close to losing her company.

She won’t let Tyler or me help her, and I think I love her even more for that. My best friend has always looked up to me. I can see it in the way she looks at me, the way she speaks to me with such reverence when we are around other people. But I have admired her for as long as I can remember.

Probably from the first day we met back in high school, at the stupid preparatory academy our parents sent us. We bonded over our hatred of the school and the people in it. Since then, we have been inseparable. Or at least we were until Tyler came along and disrupted our flow.

By the time Kennedy looks up at me, she seems startled by my presence. “You’re here. Finally. And only twenty minutes late,” she deadpans. “Of course, you look gorgeous, as always.”

“Stop that.” I take the seat across from her, drape my purse strap over the back of the chair, and flash Kennedy a smile. “Not to sound like a jerk, because you know I love you, but you look like garbage, babe.” I flatten my palms on the table, appraising her and taking in every detail of her face, as I lean forward. “Has Tyler been keeping you locked up in a dungeon over there?”

Reaching across the table, I attempt to take a lock of her hair in my hand, but she backs away from me before I can interrogate her further. I don’t mean any harm by my comments. It’s just she looks sick or beaten down. And I’m concerned about her health.

Kennedy folds her arms across her chest, crossing her leg over the other, and shakes her head. “You know you can be such a brat sometimes, Syd. Tyler is taking care of me in more ways than you can imagine. I am doing just fine. Maybe you’re the one who needs a man to tend to your needs.”

My face grows serious for a second before I break our intense staring contest, the two of us messing with the other. I am worried about the yellowish tint to her skin. She looks sickly, far from the healthy girl I saw a few weeks ago.

I break out into laughter, ending our stare down. “Carter and I are fantastic, thank you very much.”

“Did you have sex with him yet?” She knows the answer to her question after all of Carter’s phone calls and visits to jerk to Tyler and her.

He knows the rules of our game, or at least he should by now. I am not about to spell it out for him. Plus, I sort of make them up as I go and force him to adapt. We have more fun that way.

I flick my dark curls over my shoulder and glance out the window. “Let’s just say I am making Carter work for every second he spends with me. And he can’t get enough of what I’m putting down.”

“You have that man wrapped around your finger, huh? Some guys can only take so much,” she says, sounding like my mother trying to give me advice. At least Kennedy offers something of value, while my mom has no clue what she’s talking about most of the time. “Well, despite your many charms, Syd, you have a way of wearing men down.”

“More like I bring them to their knees,” I say, resolute.

Kennedy laughs, covering her mouth with her hand. “If you had a super power, that would be it.”

I shrug, unaffected by the mental pain I am causing Carter. “More or less. I think he likes playing the game just as much as I do.”

“You might end up losing him if you don’t give in a little bit. Carter is also Tyler’s best friend, and I’d like to avoid any awkwardness that your pretend romance will end up causing in the future.”

“Just because you’re ready to walk down the aisle with Tyler doesn’t mean I want that for myself, K. I am having too much fun with Carter to stop. You have no idea what it’s like to see a man like him grovel and beg. It’s so sexy. He will be rewarded in time, and I will make it worth his wait.”

“Look, all I’m saying is that you should ease up on him. If you like him, you should give him a real shot, maybe let him take you out on a date. I know for a fact he would kill for the opportunity to take you anywhere you want. You could tell him you want to eat dinner in Paris and Carter would have a flight booked ten minutes later. Trust me, girl, this one is boyfriend material. Think about it.”

Her last few remarks take me by surprise. When we’re together, Carter acts as though he only wants to use me for sex. We have some weird trash going for us right now, and it’s working. Why mess up a good thing if we don’t have to?

“Fine. I will consider it.” I slide my chair out from the table and stand, pushing my breasts back into the tight black top that leaves nothing to the imagination.

These babies have a mind of their own. Carter loves my belly. I wore this shirt special for Carter, in hopes I would see him after I have my quality time with Kennedy.

“I need some coffee. Do you want a refill?”

Staring down at her empty mug, Kennedy nods. “Yeah. I’ll have a nonfat caramel macchiato and a piece of chocolate cake.”

“Be right back.”

I stroll over to the front counter in five-inch heels that accentuate my long legs in a skirt so short and tight it had taken me ten minutes this morning to get into it. Good luck getting this thing off, Carter.

Kennedy goes back to typing up the article she was working on before I showed up, completely immersing herself once again.

“Oh, hello, darling,” I say to the teenage boy behind the register. Well, maybe he’s in college, but he sure looks like a kid. I place our order, all while trying to keep his attention from lingering. With his eyes fixed on my breasts, he types the wrong drink into the computer.

This sort of thing happens all the time. One thing I hate about having big boobs is the attention I get from them. I’m always left wondering if a guy likes me for me, or if he’s only checking out my rack because he wants to take them out for a test drive. And incidents like having my order messed up because he can’t keep his eyes where they belong happen more often than I can count. Men are such idiots sometimes. Well, no, most of the time, which is why they need strong women to keep them in check.

A few minutes later, the boy has my drinks ready and on a tray. He steps out from behind the counter, through a door off to the side, balancing two coffee mugs and plates of chocolate cake on his palm. I grew up with excessive wealth. We had nannies, drivers, maids, and butlers who did everything for us. They still do. But I no longer frequent my childhood home unless summoned by my parents.

I had grown accustomed to this lifestyle as a kid, but the longer I am away from the Carroway Estate, the more I see all the things wrong with how my parents continue to live. Kennedy had a very similar childhood, with a father who worked non-stop and a mother who checked out after childbirth. Kennedy thinks I still live in my own little bubble of opulence, but it lost its appeal a long time ago.

“Thank you, darling.” I shoot the young boy a wicked grin.

He sets our drinks and food on the table, ignoring Kennedy and checking out my rear as I take a seat. “Any time,” he mutters, afraid to make eye contact with me, despite having the nerve to ogle the rest of my body, as if I didn’t notice.

The boy must be a student at Strickland University, and since we’re on the campus and sitting in their coffee shop, I can only assume he goes to school here. I thank him again before he leaves our table.

Kennedy lifts her fork and digs into the cake, devouring each bite. “This is so good,” she mutters as she chews with her mouth full and chocolate that is now stuck to her teeth.

“I’m breaking my no carb diet since every time I see you now is a celebration.” I cut a tiny piece of my cake and look down at it, the disappointment I feel probably registering all over my face.

I work out between writing sprints and sex games with Carter. The last thing I want to do is ruin all the days of busting my rear and eating low fat dinners, but this is a special day. I need to keep my body in idiot buddy shape for lover boy. At some point, I will give into Carter, and all bets will be off. When that day comes, I want my trash tight.

Holding the fork to my lips, I stuff the chocolate in my mouth and moan. “Mmm…It has been months since my last pastry. You are a bad influence, K.”

This cake tastes like heaven mixed with a lot of sin. I will have to make my peace with it later because once I start eating, I cannot control myself. Shoveling the food in my mouth, like this is my last meal, I finish in record timing and set my fork down on my plate. As always, Kennedy is done before me, washing down the food with what is left of her coffee. I swear she doesn’t chew her food before she swallows.

After Kennedy drinks the rest of her coffee, she presses her palm to her stomach, a sick look on her face. With how fast she ate, I would not be surprised if she were ready to hurl up that cake. Grasping the edge of the table, she pushes her chair out and comes to a standing, her balance a little off.

She bends forward, pressing a hand to her mouth as if she’s trying to get things under control.

I peek at her from beneath my lashes. “Are you okay, babe? You don’t look so hot.”

She shakes her head, looking as if she hopes she can make it to the restroom. “No, I think I am going to be sick. I guess I ate too fast or something.”

Before I can get in another word, Kennedy runs toward the back of the café and pushes open the ladies room door. I start to worry after a few minutes pass. Kennedy was so pale before she walked away with beads of sweat dotting her forehead and the I have to puke expression on her face.

I gather our things from the chair back and shove Kennedy’s laptop, notepad, and miscellaneous items into her messenger bag. Slinging the bags over my shoulder, I head toward the bathroom, forcing my way into the bathroom and past two girls who are hogging up the mirror.

I spot Kennedy’s feet, with her red-soled Louboutin’s we bought together last season, pressed into the dirty tile. At first, I think of what sacrilege she’s committing, a real crime against designer shoes, until I listen to her spilling the contents of her stomach. It’s as if the Exorcist is in there with her.

The girls fixing their hair in the mirror make gagging sounds, rolling their eyes in disgust before they exit. Not like she wants or needs an audience when she’s dry heaving over a disgusting public toilet.

“You okay, K?” My voice fills the quiet room. I have no idea how to help her now that she’s finished with losing her lunch.

“Syd, my stuff is out at the table. I’ll be fine just go keep an eye on things.” She flushes the toilet and unlocks the first stall, still inside and speaking to me through the door.

“I’ve got you covered,” I say, confident. “Do you need me to hold your hair or anything?”

“Nope. I’m good. Thanks.” Her voice is so raspy and raw that I bet her throat hurts when she speaks.

When Kennedy opens the door, I’m waiting for her on the other side with my back pressed against the wall, our purses dangling from my arm and her laptop bag slung over my shoulder.

“What about our table?” She asks but looks as though she could care less at this point.

“I let a group of girls have it. We need to get you back to my place stat.”

Kennedy walks over to the sink, slaps some water on her face, and washes her hands, staring into the mirror in horror. Her skin has a yellowish tint, and I’m sure she’s thinking about how she looks like death.

“That was so weird,” I say, adjusting the strap on my shoulder, laughing. “One minute you were fine, and the next you turned into the Exorcist.”

And why am I laughing? What the heck is wrong with me? My friend just puked up her guts, apparently sick from something, and I’m getting a kick out of it. I must be losing my dang mind. Ever since I met Carter, I am going batshit crazy.

She cups her hands together and fills them with water to splash on her face one last time. “Shut up. It’s not funny. I just hurled up everything I have eaten for the last day, and I am not in the mood right now.”

I lift a strand of blonde hair from her face and push it behind her ear. “Did you eat something bad this morning?”

“No, the cake is the first thing I have eaten all day. Tyler had a workout with his trainer this morning, and I forgot to eat since he wasn’t around.”

“You’re not…” I bite down on my bottom lip, unsure why I am even drawing this conclusion. But there’s the what if lingering in the back of my head.

I don’t even have to finish the thought before Kennedy realizes where I was going with this conversation.

“No.” Her tone lacks confidence. “Tyler and I stopped using condoms a while ago, but I am on birth control. It’s…no—”

“Babe, it’s okay if you are preggers. You’re both adults.” I run my hand down her back to soothe her except this talk seems to be putting her more on edge.

“I’m telling you, Syd, there’s no way I am pregnant.”

“Because you are on birth control? While it may be super useful most of the time, it can fail.”

Taking her purse from my arm, she slips it onto her forearm and reaches inside to retrieve the empty birth control pill packet. When she opens the pack, one last pill in the row above the sugar pills is left. Did she mix them up with the real medicine?

“Idiot,” she mutters to herself under my breath.

I take the pills from her hand, feigning a smile for her benefit that she sees right through. “You will be okay. No matter what, I am here for you and Tyler will be as well.”

“I have to call Tyler,” she tells me as we exit the restroom. “He is going to freak out.”

“Maybe not. For all you know, Tyler wants kids. Besides, you could be fine.”

I take the lead, keeping my fingers crossed for Kennedy as we stroll through the café and out the front door in complete silence. This cannot be happening. Saying a silent prayer for Kennedy, I keep my thoughts and words to myself and hold out hope that we can resolve this with a pregnancy test. I hope the odds work in her favor; otherwise, I will be an aunt and Kennedy…a mom. The idea both excites and terrifies me at the same time. So, I can only imagine how Kennedy feels right now.

* * *

On our way to my apartment, we stopped by the pharmacy and bought three pregnancy tests—because one did not feel like enough at the time. You can never have enough when you’re in crisis mode. What if one is wrong? We need to be sure before Kennedy runs back home to have a talk with Tyler. Either way, she has to tell him, which kind of sucks, because he might end up going ballistic.

As I unbox all three tests, Kennedy waits on the toilet for me to hand them over. I insisted I do this with her, regardless of how awkward it is for me to stand here as I give her the sticks. She needs me now more than ever. Because what if she’s pregnant?

Kennedy pees on each stick and sets them on the counter next to her. I cannot even imagine how afraid and scared she must be for both Tyler and her and what effect it might have on their relationship as we wait for the results.

Kennedy holds her breath, sinking her elbows into her thighs and glancing over at me as we wait for the tests to change color. This is the longest three minutes of both of our lives. Now, I want to vomit. But I need to give Kennedy some words of encouragement to calm her down.

“It’s going to be okay, babe.” I sit on the floor next to her and rub my hand down her forearm. “No matter what the tests say, you have Tyler and me. You have your family. We will all be here to support you. If it’s Tyler you’re worried about, he’s a grown man who can handle it.”

“We haven’t been together long enough for us to be thinking about having children.” She shakes her head, frustrated and irritated with herself. “As much as we have sex, we were running through condoms every other day, and with my irregular periods, I was already on the pill, so I didn’t think anything of it. I never mess up like this. How did I not see that I was taking the wrong pills?”

“You didn’t mess up. It was an accident.” I sigh, taking her hand in mine and give it a squeeze. “Let’s just wait and see what the sticks tell us before you go beating yourself up over missing a pill. It happens to plenty of people.”

Digging her fingers into her hair, she stares at me, making me wish I had the answer. She always comes to me for the answers. Not like I’m any kind of expert. I usually know the right things to say, but even I am having a hard time with this situation. A baby would change everything.

“One more minute,” I say, glancing down at the cell phone in my trembling hand.

“I cannot believe this is happening,” Kennedy says more to myself than to me. “I am so stupid. How could I swap them out without noticing? I’ve been taking the same pills for years. My schedule is like clockwork. I wake up, grab my medicine, brush my teeth—”

“Stop dwelling on it,” I say, trying to snap her out of one of her self-loathing rants. When she does that, I get so pissed. She should believe in herself a lot more than she does. “There’s nothing you can do about it now.”

“I finished the sugar pills days ago and hadn’t even noticed I still had one left. How? Was I half asleep when I took them? Probably,” she says, answering her own question.

The alarm on my phone beeps, causing my heart to pound out from my chest with each ring. I shut it off and pull myself to my feet, using the edge of the vanity for support.

“I’m afraid to look,” she tells me. “You have to do it for me.”

Kennedy watches me, most likely praying for a sign of relief. But I am not sure how to feel about the results. Part of me is happy, the other part sad. I am in charge of delivering the biggest news.

How will she handle it? Is she ready to be a mom? Am I ready to become an aunt? Can I even help her care for a baby? I sure hope so. This is a significant step for all of us.

The corners of my mouth pull up into a happy smile as I turn to face her, hoping she won’t have a stroke. “I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but I am going to be an aunt, and I am so excited about it.”

I think I am. It’s too soon for me to process this information. My best friend is going to be a mother. All of this feels so surreal.

“I’m pregnant!” She shoots up from the toilet seat to check out the tests for herself. All of them have two lines, indicating that Kennedy is having Tyler’s baby.

I think a small part of her is excited. After their first sexual encounter, Tyler had a fit and threw Kennedy out of his house. I quickly learned that Tyler has a bit of a temper and a mean streak. So, I hope he doesn’t do the same when Kennedy tells him the news.

I wrap my arms around Kennedy and snuggle my cheek against her, the scent of vomit still on her breath. At the very least, I should have her brush her teeth before she goes home. “You’re going to be a mom, K. This is so exciting.”

I want to be happy, and I am to some extent. But I have trouble being enthused about the situation without knowing how Tyler will respond. She left the house this morning as his girlfriend, and now she’s the mother of his child. Talk about going from baby steps to crossing the Grand Canyon in one day. And they haven’t been together long enough to know if they can make this work. I have legitimate concerns, so I know Kennedy’s are a thousand times worse.

“How do I tell Tyler?” She stutters the words, her nerves getting the best of her.

I take a step back from Kennedy, holding her at an arm’s-length and staring into her eyes. “You tell Tyler he’s going to be a father, and if he has a problem with it, he will have to deal with me.” My smile reaches up to her eyes, and it must be contagious because Kennedy finally joins in. I guess my words provoked a reaction from her. About dang time.

For the first time in over an hour, she’s smiling. No matter the outcome of her conversation with Tyler, it does not change the fact that she is having his child. He will have to suck it up and learn how to deal with a baby. Kennedy is strong and can make it work with his hockey schedule, her paper, our blog, and a baby though I suppose she will have to cut down on some of those things once she has a screaming child to take care of.

“I guess I better get home.” She slips away from my grasp, throwing her hands onto her hips as she stares down at her stomach. “What will I look like a few months from now? With the way I eat, I will end up being the size of a house, and Tyler will be repulsed by me.”

I shake my head and then brush a loose curl behind my ear. “I can see you already, glowing and gorgeous and the cutest mother to ever rock Chanel.”

“There’s no way I’ll fit into Chanel in a few months. The last time I checked, they don’t sell maternity clothes.”

“Hey, they have a maternity wedding gown. I’m sure we can find you some maternity clothes to go along with it.”

“Oh goodness. Now you’re freaking me out. Wedding gowns, babies, this is all too much at one time.”

“Just focus on my little niece or nephew that is cooking inside your belly, and I will worry about you being the best dressed baby mama this city has ever seen.”

She laughs at my insanity, and I keep my fingers crossed that Tyler will respond in the same fashion.

Chapter 8

Carter

When I walk through the front door of Tyler’s house, his German shepherd puppy assaults me. Roxie almost knocks me over with the force she uses to leap into my arms, digging her paws into my chest. She scratches her nails along my arms, her grip on me just tight enough that she leaves marks on my skin. Her breath smells horrible, a mixture of dog food and vomit.

“Calm down, girl,” I say, petting her on the top of her head, leaning back, so I don’t have to get another whiff of her doggy breath. “It’s just me. Nothing to get excited about. No one’s coming to steal you.”

She doesn’t like many people, even though she’s a friendly dog, but for some reason, Roxie is not a fan of women. When Kennedy first came to the house, Roxie liked her from the start. Tyler said he took that as a sign that Kennedy was a keeper. He has a weird way of choosing women if you ask me. Kennedy and Roxie were like best friends, rolling around on the floor of his bedroom, all while Tyler was trying to get in her pants.

“Come here, girl!” Tyler yells from behind Roxie, strutting down the long marble hall toward us. He snaps his fingers, and Roxie hops off me, wagging her tail as she makes her way over to Tyler. Squatting down, he pulls her close and scratches behind her ears, his eyes pointed up at me as he pets Roxie. “You’re early. I wasn’t expecting you for another hour. I was just feeding Roxie.”

“I didn’t have anything else to do. I figured I’d come over here and idiot off with you until we start training.”

“I have some new video games if you want to play one of those for a while.” Tyler stands up, and Roxie gets up off the floor, wagging her tail next to him and slapping him in the leg with it. “Go to your bed, girl,” he orders in a firm tone.

The ceilings are so high his voice echoes.

“Sounds good,” I tell him as I shut the door behind me, following behind Tyler into the living room. “We have time to kill and haven’t done any gaming since Parker talked us into playing NHL 17 with him.”

Tyler laughs at the memory. “I still can’t believe he picked himself as his player. And he was still with the Capitals when he shot that one for EA. What a loser.”

“Tell me about it.” I shake my head. “He plays it all the time with that little boy Coach brings to our games.”

“Oh, right.” Tyler plops down on the couch and searches the coffee table for the TV remote. “Rico is her next door neighbor and is on the basketball team she coaches. He’s a good kid.”

I sit on the other side of the sectional sofa fit for a king. The room is so big that it could swallow up the furniture if not for the size of some of the pieces. “Parker mentioned that before. He really likes that kid.”

“He had better. Rico is like a son to Coach.” Tyler turns on the TV after a long search in a pile of remotes that turn everything from the lights to the surround sound system on. With a loud grunt, he leans back against the cushions, sinking into them. His demeanor completely shifts, and his tone grows more severe. “Speaking of kids, I have something to tell you. It’s important. Life changing, actually.”

I roll onto my side to face him, and the nerves creep up the back of my throat in anticipation. “Did something happen to Blake?” Saying a silent prayer, I keep my fingers crossed, waiting for him to continue.

Tyler scoots across the cushions until we are practically sharing one. This must be serious. “Kennedy is pregnant.”

His words catch me off guard. I was thinking the worst but…What do I say? This is the last thing I expected from Tyler, of all people. Since getting his ex pregnant when he was only a kid, he’s been so careful. I can’t tell if he’s happy or sad about the news. Tyler’s face is a blank slate, unreadable, which makes it harder for me to figure out how to respond.

“Oh,” I finally choke out, titling my head back against the couch to glance up at the ceiling, thinking of something witty to say. But I fail and suck at being a friend, apparently. “What are you going to do?”

He sits up straight and clears his throat. “We’re keeping the baby if that’s what you mean.”

“So, are you happy about it? You don’t seem like you are ready to be a father again.” I ask only because his mood confuses the heck out of me. Tyler has always been prone to manswings and flips out over nothing sometimes. He does it all the time at practice and on occasion, during games.

“No, I’m happy about it.” He smiles, but it seems forced to me as if he’s faking it for my benefit. “It’s just a lot to process in less than twenty-four hours. After I had given Blake up, I wasn’t sure if I would ever want to go through that again. I’d always wanted kids, or I wouldn’t go see Blake every month to make sure he’s okay. It’s just—” He shrugs, unsure of himself. “I don’t’ know.”

I have no idea what to say to my best friend. What kind of advice do I have to offer when it comes to children? I never spent much time around kids. Raised by a jerk drunk of a father and an older sister who filled my mother’s shoes after her death, I barely knew the meaning of a loving family. My sister, Jenny, was all I had. She was the one constant, stable female figure in my life.

But our family is so dysfunctional, even to this day, bringing a child into my life would cause my entire world to collapse. As I look at Tyler, I can see the wheels turning, the same thoughts most likely running through his head. His relationship with his parents is nowhere near as complicated as my family, but he still has his own set of issues.

I thought no one would ever understand me. That no one could relate to how I feel. Then, I met Tyler not long after I entered the league. He was just as messed up and broken as I am. Except now, I see changes in him that I had never thought possible. His change also brings me hope that I can have the same sense of peace one day. Maybe someday.

Breaking the silence, I kick up my feet on the coffee table and look over at Tyler. “I hope you didn’t act like this when Kennedy told you she was pregnant because you’re kind of freaking me out. I can only imagine how much you would have pissed her off if you acted this way.”

I fold my hands on my stomach and study his body language. He shifts his weight, causing the cushion to move beneath me.

And when he looks at me this time, he has a genuine smile on his face. “At first, I wasn’t sure how to act when Kennedy told me about the baby. Don’t get me wrong. I’m excited about this new addition. But I’m scared, man. What if something goes wrong? I’m so afraid that I’ll get used to the idea of having another child and something will happen to either Kennedy or the baby. When Payton got pregnant, we had a plan. We were going to raise Blake together until her parents talked her into moving away from me and convinced her adoption was the best option. And then, my parents went along with their idea, which never left me with a choice. Or at least I never felt like I had one. They pretty much made it for me, threatened to kick me out of the house.”

“But,” I say, clamping a hand down on his shoulder to comfort him, “you were seventeen back then. You are almost twenty-six and have plenty of money. It’s not like you need your parent's approval or financial support this time. If you both want the baby, then it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“No, you’re right. I guess I need to let go of the past.”

“Easier said than done,” I say, deflated. Just the mention of the past causes me to shudder.

“Ain’t that the truth?”

I nod in agreement.

Sydney wants me to open up to her and has mentioned it on multiple occasions. She has no idea how much pain I will have to endure all over again by talking about those things with her. I wish I was normal and could tell her everything. But that sort of trust takes a lot of time and patience.

We lock eyes for a few seconds, staring at each other as if we can read the other’s mind.

At this stage in our friendship, Tyler and I can communicate without speaking. He knows what I’m thinking about, same as how I know he’s panicked that he will lose either a part of himself or his girlfriend and child if this doesn’t work out. I know the doubt is there because of my own issues. Moving on is not easy when the past consumes the present.

“Kennedy is a good girl,” Tyler finally says, breaking our staring contest. “She’s not going anywhere, and neither is our child. I’ll make sure of it.”

“How do you plan to do that? Keep her locked up in the basement?”

He laughs so hard he snorts. “No, stupid. This time, I will do everything the right way. Kennedy and this baby come first, even before hockey. Things are going to change for the better. Maybe this is what I needed in my life all along.”

“So, what happens now? Are you going to ask her to marry you?”

“I already did, and she turned me down.” He shakes his head, annoyed, but with a somewhat amused expression on his face. “Kennedy keeps me on my toes. She’s so different from any of the girls I ever dated, even more so than Payton.”

“Isn’t it every girl’s dream to get married? I can’t believe she told you no.”

“I’m not all that shocked, to be honest. Kennedy is not like most girls. I have no doubt that she wants to get married, and I understand why she wants to wait.”

“What was her reason?” This I am dying to hear.

“She didn’t want me to ask her only because she was pregnant. I guess doing it the way I did wasn’t special. I didn’t have a ring, she had just told me she was pregnant. I suppose I could have picked a better time to ask. It’s not like I didn't already think that Kennedy is the one I want to marry before she told me about the baby. I mean, you know how big of a step it was for me when I asked her to move into my house.”

“Oh, I know. That was huge for you. I still can’t believe how fast everything progressed with you guys. It was like you met Kennedy one day and the next she was moving into this house. The last few months flew by, didn’t they?”

He nods. “Yup. Even though I feel as if I’ve known Kennedy my entire life, it’s not a lot of time to fall in love and have a child with someone. But I love her and that baby. That’s all that matters to me.”

Hearing Tyler talk about this like an adult not only shocks the heck out of me but also makes me wonder if I am wasting my time with Sydney. She continues to play games with me because she gets off on it, likes to see me suffer. But does she even want more than what we have? I was never in the headspace for a girlfriend before. At least not one that lasted longer than a few weeks.

After spending so much time with her, I realize I don’t know Sydney as well as I should. I need to either let her into my life or kick her out of it. No matter what, I need to make a decision. My best friend is slipping away from me more each day. He’s growing up in ways I never thought possible. This baby changes everything.

“I’m happy for you, Tyler. Congratulations.” I flash a genuine smile in his direction. “You had so much darkness in your life and for way too long.”

“Thanks, man.” He nods his head, smiling. “Light in the darkness. Right?” I’m surprised he uses my own words against me. “We needed to grow up at some point. Maybe it’s time for you to settle down, too.”

“Yeah, maybe,” I say, glancing down at the script tattoo on my wrist, mulling over his comment about my ink.

Sydney wonders what the words mean to me. I wish it were that simple. If it were one thing to go over, that would be easier to deal, but the beginning of that story only scratches the surface. And I’m afraid she’ll never look at me the same way again once she knows the truth.

What if she changes her mind about me after I tell her everything that has happened to me? Or worse…what if she thinks I’m weak?

The thought of Sydney having pity on me, leading to a pity idiot because of it, sickens me. She might even think I used some sob story to get into her pants. That I made it all up for her benefit. If she does, she wouldn’t be the first. Sydney already knows I want to claim her pussy, as promised. So, it should be no surprise that what I tell her is real and from the heart.

Except everything is a game to Sydney. She enjoys making me suffer too much to allow me to become comfortable around her. The one time she shared part of herself I went and ruined it because I was too unsure of myself to give her what she wanted. All she had asked about were my tattoos, and even that was too much for me. Now, she suspects there’s some hidden meaning behind my tattoos. She’s right. And that’s without having seen the ones on my back. If she had seen those, we would’ve had an entirely different discussion, one I couldn’t begin to explain.

It might be time to pull the plug on this relationship, call it quits. If I ever want something more than just sex, I need to start over with someone else. Because seeing Tyler become a new man gives me hope. It also makes me want what Tyler found in Kennedy. And I cannot see that happening with Sydney, not when she insists on playing games with my heart.

Chapter 9

Sydney

Strolling through the hallway at Penn Publishing, I check my cell phone once more before I get to my editor’s office. Carter still hasn’t called me. It has been weeks since we last spoke. He vanished like a puff of smoke, never to be heard from again.

He said we would hang out so we could finish what we had started. Men lie, and so does Carter. I waited around for his call and heard nothing. No Carter and no plans. My weekend is open, thanks to him. It’s Friday, which should be our date night.

I was ready and willing to lower my guard and give Carter what he wants. Because I want him, just as much, if not more, than he wants me. My big guy has thrown in the towel on our little game. I thought this one would last. I’m hardly ever wrong about men and sex. Apparently, I misjudged Carter Donovan.

When I reach the end of the hall, I open the double doors that lead to Sam Mason’s office. The room is open and bright, full of cubicles and people busy hammering away at the keyboards and talking on the phone. Every time I come to see Sam, his staff usually rolls out the red carpet. I make them enough money for them to give me the royal treatment. But this time, I walked the halls, mostly unattended and without the usual pleasantries. No one even offered me coffee or water.

Sam’s secretary always waits for me at the elevators when I arrive. Judy was nowhere in sight today. That was a first. The balance is off today, and it all starts with Carter. He’s messing with the order in my life. I even burnt my hand on the hair dryer today while I was fixing my curls.

Since when do I have beauty snafus? My hair looks a mess, and with all the crying I did on my way over here, most of my mascara is almost gone along with some of the foundation I rubbed off with my tears. Yes, I cried over Carter, which is insane. I am losing my dang mind. That man is going to be the death of me. I’m losing my edge because of him.

There has to be an explanation for the tears. I must be getting my period, because why am I crying over Carter? My behavior is so unlike me that even Kennedy was surprised when I called her on my way to this business meeting, a sobbing mess of emotions and incoherent ramblings. And I was craving cake this morning. Yup, must be my raging jerk hormones. It’s probably for the best that Carter doesn’t see me in this condition. I’m a real nightmare when I get like this. Even Kennedy cannot deal with my mood swings and erratic behavior when it’s that time of the month.

Not that she will have to deal with her own cycle for a while. I still cannot believe Kennedy is pregnant and having a baby with Tyler Kane. Her entire life changed over night, and mine…collapsed on me. Somehow, Carter penetrated the walls I built between us to keep myself safe. With Carter, they came crashing down, and now, I’m confused and mad at myself for toying with him. Kennedy’s pregnancy was a wake up call for me that it’s time to get my trash in order. I was ready to do that before Carter bailed on me.

A few of the men in the room look up at me from their computer monitors as I walk past them, getting a few waves and hellos as I strut down the hall like I’m on a runway. I may feel like trash on the inside, but I have to maintain an air of confidence on the outside. As my mother would say, Stand up straight and put on your face. And by face, she means the one you show to the world, the image a Carroway needs to project out in public.

My parents are filthy rich and have more money than they could spend in ten lifetimes. Because of that, I have always had a target on my back. People are watching us all the time, waiting to take us down. Growing up with a family who ran a multi-million dollar publication company, Kennedy understands the pressure of having a father like mine. We both faced the same harassment every time our parents had made the paper or closed another deal. Our worlds were vastly different from most people.

But everything changed for Kennedy after investors swindled her father and he lost his company. Her family is almost penniless by now, with Kennedy hanging on by a thread and whatever savings she has left in her account. Through our mutual existence, Kennedy and I bonded. Our friendship got both of us through some dark days back in high school.

While my father practically lives in the boardroom of his company, working himself to death, my mother spends hers planning fundraisers and social events. She was and still is a real debutant and had assumed I would follow in her footsteps. I had become the Carroway dirty little secret and a real disappointment when my parents had found out I landed a book deal with my publisher. For an erotic novel, of all things. Oh, the nerve of me for writing porn on paper. My mother almost had a stroke.

No respectable person would write erotic romance, my mom had said to me, as I laughed all the way to the bank, imagining her choking on the olive in her martini glass.

My father was a different story. Once I showed him the advance check for my first book, he changed his tune. Money is the only thing that matters in my family. People are pawns moved around in life like a game of chess. That’s how my father sees things, which I suppose has a lot to do with why I like playing with people, testing them to see how far they will go.

I made the wrong decision with Carter. What works on some will not work for others, and in Carter’s case, my games were only fun while they lasted. I’m like a shiny new toy for most men. They use me up and cast me aside when they’re through. That’s also why I write from experience. It’s my way of getting revenge on the men who messed me over. But it’s also what drove Carter away.

Stopping in front of my editor’s office, I raise my hand to knock on the door, banging hard enough that my knuckles hurt as they slam into the wood.

“It’s open,” Sam calls out, loud enough that I can hear him. “Come on in. Don’t make me get up.”

When I step inside, I take in the sight of Sam’s disheveled office, staring in awe of the chaos. It’s even worse than the last time I had visited. Sam has piles of papers, folders, and binders stacked on his desk and even more lumped together on the long conference table that spans most of the room. What’s the point in having chairs? No one could sit there without breathing in a bunch of dust or without having to sit on their feet to see over the mounds of clutter.

In front of the long row of windows are plants and various knickknacks from Sam’s travels around the world. Sam is an interesting man, to say the least. He’s been my editor since I signed with the publishing house after I graduated from high school. Watching him cringe over some of my more risqué work always gives me a little joy, a small victory I have to experience in person, which is why I love pitching new ideas to him face-to-face.

I drove all the way to Manhattan just to see his expression change when I tell him about my new book. I plan to call it On His Knees. After bringing so many men to their knees over the years, I have a bit of experience in that department. And I will use every bit of that knowledge for the book. Too bad Carter ditched me before I could complete the experiment.

It also sucks that I was starting to like him. A lot. Like, way too much for the short amount of time we have known each other. I hate myself for diving in head first with Carter, only to end up with the same disappointment as the others before him.

“Sydney,” Sam says, with a smile as he gets out of his chair and comes around to my side of his desk. He kisses me on each cheek, hugging me close to his chest, but still keeping a reasonable distance between us. “You look…different.” Sam studies me for a few seconds with an odd look on his face.

Middle-aged with dark brown hair that’s graying in the front and on the sides, Sam is still handsome in his own way. But he really needs to learn how to take care of himself. Sam needs a wife or a mother or someone to help him. The coffee stain on his shirt stands out on the white oxford he’s wearing with no tie, and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His gray slacks are wrinkled and in desperate need of ironing. They also have pen marks on them.

Despite his age, Sam is old school when it comes to editing my books. He literally red pens those idiots and makes me sit there while he does it, so he can tell me all the things I did wrong and need to fix. Then, he lectures me about what I need to work on and where I can improve.

“I haven’t done anything different since the last time I saw you, Sam.” I flip my curls over my shoulder as he takes a step back. “Same old same old.”

“Well, you look…I don’t know. Something is off about you today. It’s not your hair.” He scrunches his nose, thinking it over. “You’re not glowing. That’s it.”

I laugh so hard my stomach hurts. “Glowing? Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You are always so radiant and bubbly, full of life. Today, you seem upset. The Manhattan traffic will do that to you.” He rubs underneath my eyes. “I mean for God sakes, Sydney, you have makeup streaks on your face. Is everything okay? This is so unlike you.”

We have been friends for so long that Sam can see right through the façade. I wear my moods like a mask. If only my moods were more of a shield, so I wasn’t left so defenseless. Under his gaze, I am vulnerable and weak. Because I know I can open up to Sam, let him into my world.

“It’s a guy.” I sigh, and he clamps a strong hand down on my shoulder, waiting patiently for me to continue. “I thought it would be fun to play one of my games with him. He was into it for a while, but it’s been weeks since I heard from him. And well, I don’t know what to do. He hasn’t retuned my phone calls or texts. I’m kind of losing my mind.”

“This game,” he says, hesitant, “what did it entail?”

I shrug. “The usual. I wanted Carter to work for the sex, and he was a good sport about it at first, but I have no idea why he flipped the switch. I’m starting to get worried about him. He’s a friend of a friend, so it’s not like we won’t see each other at some point. Our friends are having a baby together, which makes the likelihood of us seeing each other high. I wouldn’t be surprised if he were the godfather of their child. And I already know I’m the godmother.”

“Which friend? Kennedy?”

“Of course. Do I have any other friends?” My tone is sarcastic.

Sam notices my irritation immediately and frowns, shaking his head. “Don’t beat yourself up over a guy. There are plenty of fish in the sea.”

“You know, Sam, I really hate that saying. It’s probably the dumbest thing I ever heard. Whoever came up with that had no idea what they were talking about, that much is obvious. While there may be more than enough men to go around, you have to account for the number that is married,” I say, counting each one off on my fingers, “gay, already in a relationship, borderline insane, basement dwellers, unemployed, or in prison. You get the point I am trying to make here, don’t you? If you round up the number of men that are not a complete disaster or unavailable, I’m sure you are left with only a handful of fish. And I’d be willing to bet I’d still want to throw their rears back into the sea.”

He laughs and pulls out a chair for me to sit, before taking his place behind his desk. “You have such a way with words, Sydney.”

“Well, I should. After all, I am a writer.”

“I didn’t mean it as a compliment.” He flashes a wicked grin that makes me want to slap the look off his face.

“Not you, too, Sam. I’m not in the mood for anymore nonsense today. My trash meter is full and on overload. Why don’t we forget about Carter and my love life and get down to business.”

He folds his hand on the desk in front of him. “Okay. You called this meeting so let’s hear it. What’s your new book idea?”

“Have you ever seen the movie How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days?”

“Yes,” he nods, “once or twice with my ex-girlfriend. It’s the one where she tricks the man into breaking up with her, all while he’s supposed to get her to fall in love with him. Right?”

“Yup. That’s the one. The game I was playing with Carter got me thinking. I did all of this crazy trash to see how far I could push him, only to lose him, just like Kate Hudson in the movie. But and this is a big but…she got him back in the end.”

He leans forward, hanging onto every word and genuinely interested in my story. “So far, I like where this is headed. Tell me more.”

“Okay.” I suck in a deep breath as I try to figure out the rest of the concept. “I guess losing him was part of my plan. I just didn’t realize it until after he stopped talking to me.”

I hadn’t fleshed everything out before I decided to get in my car and drive to New York City. Not the brightest of plans. Luckily, Sam had an opening in his calendar.

I had a three-hour drive with traffic. You would think that would have given me enough time to sort this out before I got here. Instead, I’m staring at Sam, speechless for once, which is such an odd thing for me.

When do I ever have a loss for words? Words are my weapons of choice. Without them, how would I convey my feelings to the world?

“Here’s the thing. I thought I would be the exception and that Carter would hang around to find out if we could make our relationship work. But I was wrong about him. We never even ended things. He just disappeared.”

“That’s such a guy thing to do,” he says, shaking his head. “We all do it.”

“Because you’re cowards,” I spit back. “Because you don’t have the balls to sack up and tell the girl why you don’t want to be with her anymore.” My anger pulses through my veins, commanding control over my body. I’m taking my frustration out on the wrong man.

“I’m sorry, Sam.” I sit back in my chair, trying to compose myself and hold up my index finger. “Just give me a moment. I don’t know what has come over me. Carter has gotten so far under my skin he makes me crazy.”

I am like a feral animal let loose around ordinary people. When I’m like this, someone should stay with me to keep me from doing stupid things. Like, taking out my issues with Carter on Sam. I even flipped out on Kennedy the other day for spending too much time with Tyler as if I have the right to tell her what to do.

“No worries. Take as much time as you need.” Sam shuffles some of the papers around on his desk, pretending to be busy. He’s not.

Now, that is a typical man response. Even the nice ones are no different from the bad boys like Carter. They all use the same tactics with women just adapt to a different playbook.

For the first time since I signed with Sam, I have nothing to say at a pitch meeting. I always come into his office prepared and ready for action. Today, I’m unorganized and aloof—two traits that do not describe Sydney Carroway. My father would have a stroke if he could see me now. He equates business meetings to battle, tells me how I can control the room like a general commanding his army.

Before Carter messed with my head, I could honestly say that was true. I would be in Sam’s office like a pit bull on a pork chop, sinking my teeth into the next book and laying down the framework for the story. Except, my original plan had gone to trash the minute Carter stopped wanting me. Too bad I hadn’t realized it until now.

How do I write a book about how to keep a man around when I lost him before our relationship had a chance to progress?

My characters are always so strong and confident, full of tenacity and spunk. Over the last few days, my mind has been too preoccupied with Carter to write the story I want to share. All the women have been weak and pathetic since Carter stopped talking to me, an accurate reflection of how I feel on the inside. I never thought my characters would become so sad and desperate, which is exactly how I feel right now.

“I need to get him back,” I tell him. “I miss him and our games.”

“I can’t wait to read the first draft of this book.” Sam sounds entertained by the idea. “What are you planning to call it?”

“On His Knees,” I say, resolute.

He laughs to himself. “Of course, you’d pick a title like that. Well, after hearing what happened between you and this guy, I cannot see that title being a good fit. You will have to do some groveling this time. Can you handle it? You’re not exactly the type of woman who begs a man for forgiveness.”

“I don’t think I have a choice. Either I let Carter go, or I hunt him down so I can win him back. No more games.”

Sam leans back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest, smiling. “It’s like you’re finally grown up, Sydney. I’m proud of you.”

I roll my eyes at him. “It had to happen at some point, I suppose.”

“I have to say, for once, you actually brought me an idea that we can market to a mass audience. While the hardcore smut lovers eat up your books, the contemporary market has been harder for us to tap into with your novels. This could work. You could make us a fortune with an idea like this. It’s quite brilliant, actually.” He stands up from behind the desk and moves his hands to his hip, staring down at me. “How about you tell me more about it over lunch?”

“I suppose I could eat,” I say. “But after we’re finished, I should head over to Carter’s house to do some serious apologizing. I hope that’s enough. This concept is so foreign to me.”

Sam steps out from his desk with his hand held out to me. He pulls me out of my chair, lifts my purse from the floor, and walks me to the door with his palm pressed against my back. “Let’s get you fed and hopefully, we can make some more money together. What are you in the mood to eat?”

My stomach has been growling since I woke up this morning. I’ve been so depressed over Carter that my last meal was a multigrain bar I ate over twenty-four hours ago.

“How about Italian? I could use a decent meal. And since you’re paying, let’s go all out.”

He smirks. “Technically, the company is paying, and at some point, it comes from your pocket. So, go ahead and pick the most expensive restaurant in the city.”

Sam thinks he’s so smart. Men. What a bunch of jerks. He wants to play games with me then I will turn the tables on him. “On second thought, how about we eat at Gray’s Papaya.”

He frowns, his eyes raking over my body before he makes his way back to my face. “You want to eat a hot dog on the sidewalk? I am shocked. I didn’t think Sydney Carroway did things like eating processed foods on street corners with commoners.”

“You’re really working my last nerve, Sam.” I punch him in the arm, joking and giving him an evil grin. “I’m not some spoiled brat who can’t relate to regular people.”

He gives me a stupid look. “Okay. If you say so. This I have to see for myself. I am going to enjoy my own little experiment. Watching you out in public bumping elbows with strangers is worth paying to see. Sydney does New York. There’s another title for you.”

“You’re such a dork.” I shake my head and follow his lead through the busy office, keeping my eyes focused on the end of the hall.

We reach the double doors that lead to the exit in silence. I have nothing more to say after he made fun of me on one of my weakest days. Just to show him up, I plan to double fist those hot dogs like a chick trying to juggle two dicks in a porno.

* * *

As if I’m a specimen under a microscope, Sam analyzes my every movement. He’s waiting for me to crack, tell him I am not cut out for “normal people” behavior. But like most people, Sam has underestimated me once again. I know that everyone thinks I’m a spoiled brat. Even Carter called me Princess from the first time we met.

I hate that the mask I wear to shield myself from the world comes off that way. For once, I want to be the down-to-earth girl that all the guys want to hang out with. In other words, I want to be Kennedy. My best friend has always been so calm and collected. Throw in her love of sports and useless trivia and guys fall at her feet. She never seemed to notice how men respond to her. The reaction she gets from them is nowhere close to what I get.

With Kennedy, they’re looking for friendship or the feeling of something more. And with me, they want sex. That’s it. It makes me feel so cheap and trashy, which is why I wear my mask, and I like to think I wear it well. Most of the time it keeps me from getting hurt, builds the walls high enough that the losers stay out. This time it backfired.

“How’s your hot dog,” Sam asks, eying me up as I shove the roll into my mouth.

Speaking between bites, I choke out, “It’s good, so stop staring at me. You act like I’ve never eaten a hot dog on a street corner before. Must I remind you I live in Philly? I have gotten food from street vendors tons of times with Kennedy.”

He wipes the mustard from his lip with his napkin, and then smiles, flashing a set of yellow teeth. “I bet your parents wouldn’t approve of that.”

“For someone who has mustard smeared on their teeth, you sure have a lot to say about me,” I quip.

Sam blushes ten shades of red, which amuses me. Turning away from me, he takes a sip from his soda and licks his teeth.

He’s been so outspoken about my life today. One more comment from him might send me over the edge. Everything in my life is changing at the same time. First, Kennedy and her new baby, then Carter, and now the book is falling apart. My writing has gone down the toilet since Carter waltzed into my life. It’s obvious I need him back. But how do I get him to talk to me again?

Like a good book, my plan needs to have a hook, a way to lure Carter back into my life. I finish the rest of my food without another word from Sam. He looks impressed that I’m almost touching elbows with the person next to me, shoving processed food down my throat, and doing all of it while standing in a pair of Christian Louboutin pumps and a Chanel jacket. And looking fabulous, I might add.

If there’s one thing I inherited from my mother, it’s a sense of style. That woman sure knows how to dress and made sure she rubbed off on me. But I sure stand out in this outfit. So, when the man next to me turns around, accidentally smearing ketchup along the sleeve of my white Chanel jacket, I stop breathing. My brain shuts down, and my skin sets on fire.

“My…my—” I point at the sleeve, unable to formulate a complete sentence. I want to scream or punch him in the face.

“I’m sorry,” the man says with a mouth full of food. He doesn’t even stop to notice what he has done before he moves through the crowded takeout restaurant and steps onto the even busier sidewalk.

Before I can do anything, Sam notices and comes over, dabbing at the fabric with his napkin. He takes my arm in his hand, staring at me as if he understands how much this jacket cost. It’s not even about the price. I cannot replace vintage Chanel, especially not this particular piece. My mother will kill me. This jacket has been in our family for so many decades that even my grandmother wore this when she was my age. Now, it’s ruined.

“Breathe,” Sam reminds me, and I need the encouragement. “It will be okay. We can have it sent out to our dry cleaner as soon as we get back to the office. I’ll have one of the girls help you out.”

I suck in enough air to get a whiff of cigarettes as two men walk past us, smoking. “We need to leave, Sam.” I shake my head, doing my best to hold back the tears. Having a nervous breakdown in front of everyone in this shop is the last thing I need on a day like today. “I want to stop at the drug store down the street on our way back to your office to grab some club soda. I’ll give that a shot before you waste your time sending this out for laundering. Plus, I have to get going soon so I can tell Carter how much I messed up and want him back.”

“You really are growing up,” he says with a genuine smile. “The Sydney I know would have ripped that guy a new one over ruining your coat. You didn’t even yell at him. To say your reaction surprised me would be an understatement. I hope it works out with you and this guy. He seems to be having a positive effect on your life. Now, if only he can do the same for your writing.”

Sam collects our trash and escorts me toward the door, making sure no one touches me this time. Once we’re on the street, I am able to breathe easier. But that’s not saying much with the thick scent of exhaust fumes and smoke lingering in my nostrils.

“I wish,” I confess. “My writing has suffered big time since I met Carter. I find myself thinking about him more than I should and at the worst times. The other day, I was sitting at my desk and watching porn, you know for writing purposes, and I started wondering if Carter would want to try out what they were doing on my screen.”

Sam makes a gagging sound as he laughs, holding onto my hand as we cross the street at the light. “I was hoping for something a little more deep and meaningful, and here you’re thinking of dirty things to do with this guy. Maybe your problem is that everything is about sex with you. It’s hard for a man to take a woman as beautiful as you seriously when you’re always talking about sex.”

“I’m a romance author and smut writer, Sam. It’s no different than you talking to a girl about publishing.”

“True…but you could talk about the other aspects of your career and not just the sex. If you make everything—even your job—about sex, a man will only think that way when it comes to you and the relationship.”

“But our relationship started with sex. I took Carter upstairs the first night we met, and we masturbated together.” My body tingles from the thought of Carter and his monster cock and those big strong hands wrapped around it as he jerked himself off while he watched me finger my pussy. It was so hot and intense, unlike anything I ever experienced with another man. We have a connection that I can’t even describe. When we’re in the same room together, it’s as if sparks ignite between us.

Sam chuckles, as he should. Because who does the kind of things I do? People must think I am ridiculous. To some extent, I guess I am. The joke was on me once again.

“Why am I not surprised, Sydney. If you want him back, you will need to make a non-sexual gesture.”

“But I don’t know how to do anything else. You’re killing me, Sam. All my go-to moves are sexual. If I can get him hard and happy, that will give me some time to convince him I’m not so bad.”

He sighs, shaking his head. “You never listen to anyone. Why would I be any different? Even when I send you my notes on your books, you ignore them and pretend that your way is right, as per the usual.”

“I take your notes into consideration all the time, and it’s not like I have a choice. You have final say on everything. Maybe I just don’t like being bossed around by men. I like to do things on my own time and with my own set of rules. Is that so bad?”

He opens the door to the drug store, holding it for me to enter. “No, it’s not a bad thing per say, but you have to bend sometimes. The world does not rotate around you.”

“I’m sure you’re familiar with the phrase, Give someone an inch, and they’ll take a mile. In my experience, that’s what men do when women give into them, and I am not some toy for them to play with. But for you, Sam, I just like to keep you on your toes.”

“That you do,” he says, looking up at the signs for the soda aisle. “Never a dull moment when you are around.”

We finally find the club soda after combing through the shelves and make our way to the front of the store to checkout. The ketchup has already set into the fabric. But I hold out hope that I can get some of it out before having to explain to my mother that I destroyed a collector’s item.

She would’ve had a fit if she saw where we ate lunch. I’m nothing like her, which makes me hate the fact that everyone lumps me into the same category they would with her. Am I rich? Yes, and I will not apologize for being born into wealth. But that doesn’t mean I am above other people or unable to relate. If that were true, my books would be trash, and no one would buy them.

I have an idea, a new plan. If everyone sees a self-entitled princess when they look at me, I need to change their minds. Starting with Carter. Right after I remove this stain.

Chapter 10

Carter

Within a few weeks of telling Jenny she could come for a visit, she was knocking on my door with baby Kyle in her arms and enough suitcases to get them through a month on the pavement next to them. It has been four days since my sister and her son showed up. I had no idea how much work it takes to care for a child until I spent four long days with Kyle crying for his bottle.

This house is far from baby proof, with lots of sharp edges, large furniture to climb onto, and plenty of places to hide. Every minute I’m not at practice or with my trainer, I spend at home with Jenny, helping her run around after Kyle. He keeps both of us on our toes.

Now, I see what Tyler is in for after Kennedy pops out their kid. My best friend will no longer have a life. I’m not even a dad, and I haven’t gotten much sleep or time to myself in the few days spent with Kyle and Jenny. I can only imagine the manswings Tyler will have once he’s going through this day in and day out.

After Kyle wakes up from his nap, Jenny plays with him for a while before she puts him back in his playpen. He’s shaking some toy, laughing to himself and looking over at us periodically as he does this.

Leaning against the armrest of the couch, I smile at him, wondering what it would be like to settle down and have a family like Tyler. I still haven’t processed it all. When Tyler told me about the baby, I was surprised, but at the same time, I wasn’t. He and Kennedy idiot like crazy, and I know how much he hates condoms. Birth control or not that trash isn’t bulletproof.

“You’re so good with Kyle,” Jenny says, plopping down on the couch next to me. “He’s usually shy around new people, but he took to you right away.”

“I’m not bad with kids,” I tell her, waving at my three month old nephew. He laughs and continues shaking the toy in his tiny hands. “I just don’t have the time or the patience.”

“You would also need to keep a girl around for more than a week to make that a reality,” she deadpans, sinking her petite frame into the cushions.

Unlike me, my sister is small and delicate and blonde and soft-spoken—just like our mother. Those are the few things I remember about our mom without having to ask Jenny to tell me what she was like. In some ways, Jenny has always been a mother to me.

When I think of the person who tucked me in at night, Jenny comes to mind. She drove me to school every morning until I graduated from high school and made sure I never missed hockey practice. But she started long before I found hockey.

“I don’t have problems keeping women around. It’s getting rid of them that’s the hard part.”

Jenny shakes her head at me, not at all amused. “At some point in your life, you have to let someone in, or you will die alone in this big house by yourself, and I don’t want that for you, baby bro. You can be happy. Just let it happen for once.”

Kicking my feet up on the coffee table, I turn my head to the side to look at Jenny. “Women take too much work, and with my hockey schedule, I don’t have the time for anything permanent.”

She frowns at my comment and crosses her arms over her chest. “Your friends don’t have an issue with keeping women around, and they’re on the same team as you. The difference is they make time, and you don’t.”

Anytime she starts nagging me about my game or women, I shut down. This conversation never ends well. She knows the reasons I keep women at a distance, yet she constantly tries to convince me that I would be happy if I found someone to share my life with the way she did with Steve.

I suck in a deep breath and let it out. “Attachments are bad for my game, and I already have enough problems. I have to get back to being myself again before I can consider a relationship that lasts for more than a few days.”

“What about that girl you were seeing? You haven’t mentioned her in a while.”

“She’s not the marrying kind,” I spit out, annoyed with myself about how I ended things with Sydney. More like how I didn’t end things with her. I went for the man move and stopped calling.

Sydney called and sent text messages. I deleted them all. I’m a toe. I feel like a jerk for icing her out, but I knew that was the only way to get her out of my life. As much as I wanted Sydney to become a part of it, her games were wearing me down, messing with my head. A girl like Sydney would let me get close and then pull the rug out from under me. She wouldn’t be the first. I know her type. Heck, I am that type, which is why I can identify so much with her. The games were hot and fun while they had lasted. But I need more, a lot more than she was willing to give.

“What do you mean by that? Every girl is the marrying kind. You just need to find the right one.”

I shake my head. “Nope. Sydney is all about the chase. Girls like her are too high maintenance and too much work. She kept asking about my past and then withheld sex from me when I wouldn’t tell her more.”

“It wouldn’t kill you to open up to someone, Carter,” she shoots back.

“I tell you things. Isn’t that enough?”

“I’m your sister, not your girlfriend. There’s a huge difference.”

“I’m not comfortable telling women about my past. No one wants to hear about the things Dad did to me or and why I still to this day cannot take my shirt off when I have sex with a woman. I am messed up, Jenny. You know this already. We went through a lot when we were kids, and it doesn’t get any easier as an adult.”

“You have to let go of the past and move on.”

“Easy for you to say,” I growl, my words venomous. “You didn’t go through half of what I did with Dad. You don’t have the scars as a reminder.” Feeling sorry, I apologize. My sister doesn’t deserve to get yelled at because of my insecurities.

“It’s okay,” she says, reaching out to touch my arm. She runs her fingers along my forearm to sooth me, something she used to do to help calm my nerves when I was a kid. “Don’t you take your shirt off around your teammates? How do they not know? You cannot hide forever, Carter. Some day you will need to let someone shine a light on your darkness.”

Just like Tyler, she uses my own words against me. I glance down at the script tattoo on my wrist and scowl. Sydney had no idea what she was asking. My life is far from simple and too complicated to let her into it.

“I shower around the guys, so it’s not like I keep my shirt on around them. A few people have asked me about my tattoos over the years, but men do not pry the way women do. And it’s not like I don’t have enough ink on my body to distract them from seeing what’s beneath the drawings.”

“Have you gotten any more since I last saw you?”

I nod. “Yes. One more. Now, there’s only one missing piece to the puzzle.”

She peeks over at Kyle, grinning at him once he makes eye contact and too busy to stop messing around with his toy. Then, she turns back to me, her smile replaced by a frown. Her facial expression changes from a sunny disposition to storm clouds rolling across the sky. “Can I see the latest addition?”

A bit apprehensive, I sit up and pull my shirt over my head. It has been a while since I let someone see my back, apart from showers in the locker room. But even then, I try to get in and get out. Tyler knows how I feel about sharing that part of myself and will take my secrets to his grave, just as I would do the same for him.

Trying to explain the jigsaw puzzle I had started after high school has never been easy. Years ago, I tried to explain it to a few women, only to have them walk away from me afterward. The amount of shame and anger the conversation about my past conjures up makes them leaving because of it so much worse. They look at me as though I am weak, no longer the man they once knew. Some things are out of my control, and my past is one of them. Which is the reason I choose to keep it buried—where it belongs.

Only Jenny and Tyler understand the meaning behind my tattoos.

“The puzzle is almost complete,” Jenny says, tracing her fingers over my scars and causing me to flinch in the process. I hate when people touch me. Even my own flesh and blood.

“What’s missing?” She asks, feeling my scars. “You have room for one more.”

“I don’t know.” I do my best not to scream out in pain as her fingers roll over every bad memory. While the marks themselves don’t hurt, the thought of how they had gotten there still stings. “I’ll let you know when I figure the last one out.”

“I’m sure one day it will come to you.” Jenny touches me one last time before she retracts her hand and falls back onto her side of the couch.

“Yeah, eventually I will figure out what is missing in my life. Until then, I’m keeping the last spot open. My story is still being written.”

Without wasting another second, I slip my shirt back over my head and tug it over my tats. I feel better having them covered up. Having them exposed makes me feel vulnerable, even though Jenny understands the reason for them.

Jenny bites down on her bottom lip, concentrating on what she wants to say next. “You know dad—”

I stop her before she can finish speaking about our father. “Don’t even try it,” I warn her, my tone rough and harsh. “I have nothing left to say to him. His words mean nothing to me.”

“He wants to apologize to you, make amends before he dies.” Jenny attempts to squeeze my hand, but I slide away from her. We did enough touching for one day.

“Death is too kind for what he deserves,” I retort, meaning every word. My father is the worst man I have ever known. It’s a miracle I survived him.

“Don’t be like that, Carter. I know he was the hardest on you, but he loves you.”

“He never loved me. Dad loved you but never me. All Dad ever showed me was how much hatred is inside him. I don’t care what happens to him because he’s already dead to me.”

“Carter,” she breaths, unable to finish her train of thought. We have nothing more to say.

Jenny stares me down from across the couch, hoping I will change my mind. I won’t. How can so much good be inside her after what we had endured? Jenny is so much like our mother, a ray of sunshine, and my only light in a tunnel of darkness.

When Kyle starts crying, I hop off the couch. “I’ll get him,” I announce, desperate for a break from this conversation.

I pick the little guy up from the playpen and cradle him against my chest, stroking his back to calm him down. Tyler should come over here to practice on Kyle. He will need it. I still can’t believe how much his life has changed this year. I hope to find someone who I can talk to the way I do with Jenny. But I doubt I will ever be comfortable enough with a woman to let them cast a light on my darkness.

Despite my best efforts, I cannot get Kyle to stop crying. He needs his mother.

Jenny comes up from behind me and says, “Here, give him to me.”

She jiggles a toy that has plastic keys hanging from a ring at Kyle as she takes him from me.

He starts to smile with tears still running down his cheeks. Kyle is lucky to have such wonderful, loving parents. The home my sister and her husband provide for their son is how a child should grow up. No one should have to deal with what we had to endure as kids. At least my father liked Jenny enough to leave her alone and save his wrath for me.

I made sure of it. As much as I hate my dad for the things he did to me, I would’ve hated myself even more if I hadn’t stepped in for Jenny. She needed my protection, and she got it. Jenny deserved that much after all the sacrifices she had made for me. When my dad was in a bad mood, he spared no one, and I made sure he exhausted all his anger on me. I never let him lift a finger to hurt Jenny.

Jenny walks out of the living room with Kyle in her arms, singing a song to him under her breath. By the time she hits the main entrance, the doorbell rings. No one comes here. Ever. Not unless I invite them, which is rare. Tyler is the only person other than my trainer who has ever stepped foot inside this house since I bought it five years ago.

“Can I help you?” Jenny asks, her voice traveling down the hall.

I begin to move toward the front door when I hear Sydney’s voice and stop dead in my tracks.

“I’m looking for Carter. Does he live here?”

“Yes.” Jenny gives nothing else away. “What can I help you with?”

Leaning against the wall between the sitting room and the hall, I wait for Sydney to continue. Why did she come here? She must have had a purpose for driving over to New Jersey. My house is about an hour drive from her apartment with traffic. It’s not like she lives around the corner and can use the excuse that she was in the neighborhood.

“Um…nothing, I guess.” For once, Sydney sounds unsure of herself. “Have a nice day,” she mutters, her voice trailing off as if she has left.

Even though her visit has piqued my interest, I have no desire to step into the hall and show myself. Jenny has learned over the years how to deal with situations like this one. She’s an expert at getting rid of women. I’m not ready to face Sydney. But I know I can’t avoid her forever.

Chapter 11

Sydney

It takes every bit of nerve I have in my body to drive straight from Manhattan and into New Jersey to confront Carter. After slaving over the sink in the women’s bathroom at my publisher’s office, I managed to get most of the ketchup stain out of my jacket. At least I look somewhat presentable, despite the tiny blemish.

What was I thinking, though? Most of my makeup disappeared along with my tears on the car ride over to New York. My curls are starting to frizz after my hair dryer debacle this morning. The only thing I had going for me was my clothes until that guy had to bump into me at Gray’s Papaya. That was just my luck. Lately, I have had plenty of bad vibes sent my way.

I’m hoping my luck is about to change because I can use some good news. Keeping my fingers crossed that Carter will hear my planned speech, I get out of my car and lock the door behind me. I practiced it several times on the way over here. But I’m nervous, so I hope I don’t choke on my words.

My body shakes as I walk toward Carter’s front door, the uncontrollable urge to run away almost too much to pass up. What if he laughs in my face? What if he never wants to speak to me again? That is my biggest fear and not because of the book. As much as I loved our little game, I want my big guy back. I miss Carter so much I can’t sleep or eat. My mind always wanders back to him.

Carter lives in a giant house, much like the one my parents live in off the Mainline of Philadelphia. Except Carter resides in South Jersey, like most of the professional athletes who play for Philadelphia teams. And he lives in an expensive neighborhood.

Most of the houses on the block are so far apart you couldn’t throw a rock at you neighbor’s window if you tried. Now, that’s what I call privacy. Living in the city, after all those years of growing up in suburban hell, I had eventually begun to love the noise that filled the otherwise silent void I had become accustomed to back home. This neighborhood has that same eerie quiet, with nothing more than birds chirping to keep me from focusing too much on the sound of myself breathing.

My heart pounds out of my chest as if I am on death row and about to face the executioner. Groveling is not something I have ever done before. Everything with Carter is a new experience for me. I hate that he makes me so on edge. If he were someone else, I would march right up to his door and tell him to mess off after leaving me hanging. But I want him back, regardless of how stupid I feel coming here.

The wood hurts my knuckles when I knock on his larger than life front door. Carter is a big guy, so it’s no surprise the door reaches up so high I couldn’t touch the doorframe even if I jumped. I bet even Carter has a hard time reaching it. Holding my breath, I wait as the door swings open. I expect Carter, but instead, I get…a woman. A gorgeous woman. And she’s holding a baby. His baby?

Oh, my goodness. This must be why he was so closed off with me. He has a girlfriend or a wife and a baby. This wouldn’t be the first time I dated a guy, only to find out he was married or had a secret life I hadn’t known about.

The blonde woman smiles at me, a smile that travels up to her big, blue eyes as she adjusts the child in her arms. Her baby is adorable, maybe only a few months old, but he looks nothing like Carter. He looks like her with his soft features, pale skin, and bright eyes. Carter is the complete opposite of them—dark hair, borderline long enough to put in a hair tie, deep brown eyes that hold so much sadness they mirror mine, and that perfectly toned and tatted body I want to climb like a mountain.

“Can I help you?” the woman asks, giving me a pointed look. She kisses the top of the baby’s head to sooth him. He still has tears in his eyes, even though he seems happy with the toy in his hand.

Throwing my hands on my hips, I stare her down, wondering who she is and why Carter never told me about her or the child. “I’m looking for Carter. Does he live here?”

“Yes,” she says, offering nothing of use to me. “What can I help you with?”

This conversation is so awkward my body is screaming for me to retreat. If Carter has a secret wife or girlfriend, then who am I to break up their family? I don’t want to be a home wrecker. A few times, I have unintentionally been that girl, and I hate the feeling. I hate not knowing what you have gotten yourself into ahead of time because the man was too much of a pig and a coward to own up to the truth. But this child and woman do not deserve this.

“Um…nothing, I guess.” For once, I sound so unsure of myself that even I don’t recognize my own voice. “Have a nice day,” I mumble under my breath as I spin around.

The few seconds it takes to get back to my car and slip inside are the longest few seconds of my life. I held my breath the entire way, practically running out of air by the time I grip the steering wheel and finally breathe again. After I glance up from the steering wheel and see the front door closed over, the first tear streams down my cheek, followed by the waterworks.

But I can’t sit here and cry in Carter’s driveway. A Carroway holds their head high and keeps their composure even in moments of duress, my mother would say. Nothing ever bothers her. Everything rolls off her back. I wish I could call her and tell her what happened with Carter, but she doesn’t even know he exists. Even if she did, she would say that he’s an idiot and to move on.

Sam was right. I have no friends other than Kennedy. My mother is the equivalent of talking to one of the statues in her garden, and my father is most likely locked away in his office or overseas somewhere, closing another deal for his company. I’m sure Kennedy is with Tyler, off celebrating their new child. I have no one. Nothing. All that is left are my books and my not-so-secret porn stash.

Tonight might be one of those nights where I break out the wine bra and walk along the Delaware River for some clarity. I do that when I need to clear my head and think about my next move. With Carter on the brain, I may need more than one wine bra to get me through the night. I had better stop by the liquor store to buy every bottle of red they have left. Because I sure will need it.

Carter has a child. And a girlfriend. Or whatever the heck she is to him. I hate him so much my skin tingles from the anger coursing through my veins.

After a few minutes of sobbing in my car, I push the start button and pull off Carter’s property, leaving my pride behind in his driveway. I sucked it up to come here and confront him, only to find out I was the only one invested from the start. He never had any intention to let me into his closed off heart. All the games we played were just that.

So, why would he lead me on and continue to play with me if he had a life waiting for him?

My mother would tell me that men have urges and that talented guys like my father and Carter are no exception. Like my dad, Carter is on the road more than he’s home, and I guess they both will take what they can get wherever they can get it. The difference between my mother and me is that she doesn’t care. Where I want a man to commit to me and only me for the rest of my life. Is that too much to ask? I think not.

As if reading my mind and knowing I need to talk, a call from Kennedy blares through the speakers of my Mercedes.

I press the call button on my steering wheel, relief washing over me. “Hey, K. Perfect timing.”

“Are you okay?” Her voice sounds soft, almost as if she’s whispering. “Carter just called Tyler. You showed up at his house unannounced?”

“Yeah, what’s wrong with that?”

“I thought you were going to send him something not show up at his door.”

“What difference does it make?” I wipe back the tears running down my cheek with the back of my hand and sniff. “Either way, I found out about his lovechild and mystery woman. I can’t believe he did this to me.”

“You were the one playing with him, Syd.” Now, she sounds annoyed with me. “What did you think was going to happen? That he would wait around for you for the rest of his life? I told you he wouldn’t put up with that garbage, and you didn’t listen to me.”

“I just…I can’t believe he has a kid. Don’t you think that’s something he would have thought to tell me in the time we spent together?”

Kennedy sighs into the receiver. “Some people keep their secrets locked up and throw away the key. Tyler did the same thing with me. Remember the day he threw me out of his house because I had asked him if the pictures of that boy on his mantle were of his son?”

“Yes,” I mutter, knowing where she’s going with this.

“Well, it turned out that the boy was his son.”

This is an unexpected turn of events. “Wait. I thought you said he wasn’t Tyler’s son. I was sitting on the couch next to you when you did most of your research.”

“I didn’t find it until later that week. I had kept digging until I finally found the adoption papers. Blake is Tyler’s son, but the kid has no idea. I even met Blake and his adoptive parents.”

“How come you never told me about any of this? What else are you hiding?” I blow out a puff of air, annoyed. “Does no one trust me with their secrets? It’s not like I would have gone around and blabbed about Tyler and his son. Did you not trust me enough to tell me?”

“It has nothing to do with you, Syd. The world does not revolve around you. I had promised Tyler I wouldn’t tell anyone, including you. I’m sorry, but it was not my secret to share. Tyler doesn’t want anyone to know other than those who are close to him.”

“And I’m one of them?”

“You’re going to be the godmother to our child, so I would say that makes you part of his inner circle now. Anyway, let’s not fight about this. The reason I was calling was to invite you over to our house for brunch on Sunday.”

“It’s weird to hear you say our house so soon,” I confess, a little jealous that Kennedy has found someone great to spend her life with and wishing I had that for myself.

“Well, Tyler might’ve bought this house, but it wasn’t a home until I moved in.”

“What time on Sunday?” I ask, crossing the bridge into Philadelphia.

“I was thinking around eleven or so. You know, brunch time.”

“Getting away from the city for a girl’s day is just what I need. I’ll bring the mimosas,” I announce, excited to see Kennedy this weekend.

We never get enough time together anymore, and I miss her like crazy. With my only friend living so far away, it leaves me with a lot of time to myself. It’s also more time for me to think about Carter and cry myself to sleep for being so stupid. At least now, I know why Carter wouldn’t be honest with me when I had asked him about his past. We all have one, and while some are darker than others, I was hoping Carter would let me in.

“You’ll be drinking them alone. I have a while before I can have another drink.”

“Don’t worry, babe,” I snort. “After the week I have had, I will have no problem polishing off a few bottles on my own. You can drink vicariously through me. I plan to drink like a frat boy during rush week.”

She laughs. “Well, don’t get too wild. I want Tyler to get to know the real you. You made quite the impression the first time.”

“Hey, I behaved myself that night.”

“Did you?” I know Kennedy so well I swear I can hear the condescending smirk forming on her lips. “You were upstairs in the guest bedroom, masturbating with Carter. I wouldn’t exactly call that making a good first impression. On either of them.” The way she emphasizes them makes me cringe.

Both Carter and Tyler must think I’m the same as one of their puck bunnies. And I’m not, which makes me frown at the thought. While I stopped myself from attacking Carter the night we met, I didn’t act like a lady. In fact, I acted like a whore who couldn’t keep her legs shut and needed a fix.

I was out of my mind that night. I still am. Carter does things to my mind and body that even I cannot fathom. I’m wild about him. And I want him to tame me, make me his. Too bad I lost him. Too bad he has another woman and a baby. Just when I think I couldn’t get any lower than I have in the past.

Hello, rock bottom, my new best friend.

“You made your point,” Kennedy, I groan. “I get it. I was an idiot for doing the things I did with Carter. We have chemistry together, and I don’t know…I couldn’t stop myself. He was too irresistible.”

“It’s a shame it didn’t work out for you. You guys looked cute together.”

“I had every intention of apologizing to him. But he has a baby. That’s the part I cannot get over.”

“Tyler has never mentioned anything to me about Carter having kids. As far as I know, Carter lives alone, doesn’t talk to anyone but Tyler and his sister, and keeps his head down and out of the papers. In all the years I have owned Sports Buzz, I have never heard a bad thing about his personal life. In fact, I’ve never heard anything about it at all except maybe a picture here or there with a model or puck bunny.”

“True, but couldn’t the same be said about Tyler? No one knew he had a son. He buried it so well you had to dig to find it. How many people would put that much time into searching through his past? I guess Carter is just as good at keeping secrets as Tyler. That must be why they are such good friends.”

“Yeah, I suppose so…” Her voice trails off but only for a few seconds. “I’ll mention it to Tyler and see if I can get him talking. I have a few tricks up my sleeve I can use.”

“I’m sure you do,” I deadpan, pulling into the parking lot at my apartment complex.

“Look, I have to run. I’m not feeling too hot. This pregnancy does not agree with my stomach. So, I have to go hang my head over the toilet for a few, but I’ll see you on Sunday, okay?”

“Sure thing.” I smile as I pull into a spot and turn off the engine. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some drinking to fit in until then.”

She chuckles on the other end. “Have fun with that. See you soon. Kisses. Bye.”

Then, the line goes silent, leaving me alone with my thoughts once more. Lately, that is not a good thing. At least I have this brunch to look forward to on Sunday. Maybe if I drink myself to sleep tonight, I can do the same tomorrow and wake up refreshed and new on Sunday. I need to binge drink and purge Carter from my system so I can move on with my life.

Chapter 12

Carter

“What do you mean Sydney will be here any minute?” I yell at Tyler without meaning to be so loud. But I have a right to be somewhat annoyed, maybe even a little pissed off. My voice carries throughout the living room of his house, the sound echoing off the vaulted ceilings.

“She’s Kennedy’s best friend, man.” Tyler sits back, sinking into the couch cushions as he kicks his feet up on the coffee table. He slides his hands behind his head, linking them together, and turns to face me. “You can’t avoid her for the rest of your life. At some point, you will have to grow a pair, deal with her face-to-face, and act like a man about it.”

“But you guys ambushed me.” My anger surges through my body, practically radiating off my skin. “What do you expect me to say? That I’m happy about it. Because I’m not. That woman is the devil. Sydney pushes until she gets what she wants, and then starts her games all over again. I had enough of it.”

He smirks at me, a real cocky one that makes me want to slap it off his face. “We both know you’re full of trash. You like Sydney. You’re just too afraid to tell her about your past. Hey, I get it believe me I do. I doubt I would have told Kennedy about Blake so soon if she hadn’t dug into my background on her own. But I’m glad that she did because look at us now. I’m finally getting the family I had always wanted. You could be happy, too, if you stop overthinking everything.”

I frown, shaking my head. “She finds too much joy in torturing me to make me happy. Not unless she changes her mind and wants to wrap her lips around my cock. That’s the only way she’s going to get me to reconsider. I’m sick of being messed with, and I'm tired of the games. I had enough of it growing up to last a lifetime.”

He moves his hands back down at his sides and rolls onto his shoulder to lean closer to me. “From what Kennedy has told me, Sydney would do just about anything you want to get you back. Maybe you should listen to what she has to say.”

“Wait.” I hold up my hand in protest even more irritated than I was a few seconds ago. “This is a setup to get us back together. I’m out of here.” I attempt to get up from the couch when Tyler clamps his hand on my wrist, holding me in place.

“Well, yes and no. Just hear me out.” His expression changes along with his tone. This conversation is about to take a dangerous turn.

Having brunch with Sydney, stuck at a table where I’m sure she will grill me for more information, is not my idea of a fun Sunday afternoon.

“We wanted to get you and Sydney together so we could talk to you about the baby, but Kennedy also thought this would be a good place for you to speak to each other on common ground and without any commitments. Sydney is sorry for what she did and misses you. She’s on the phone with Kennedy every day, complaining about how she would do whatever it takes to get you back. Just eat this brunch garbage Kennedy ordered and listen to what Sydney has to say and then you can leave after that if you want.”

Seeing Sydney in person will make it harder for me to leave. She’s smart and beautiful, enigmatic and crazy. But I like her, always have, which is why it was so hard for me to walk away. That’s why I acted like a coward and stopped calling her and ignored all of her messages.

I still think about her, wonder what she’s doing, but I cannot let myself get sucked into her vortex of insanity. My life is too complicated to allow myself to become part of her world. I cannot go back, not without Sydney making some serious changes.

Before I can decide whether I want to retreat or not, I hear Sydney’s voice echo throughout the house as she strolls down the long hallway with Kennedy. She takes my breath away. Literally. When she walks into the living room next to Kennedy, I am speechless and in awe of how gorgeous she looks today, even more so than normal. In a tight black dress that barely covers her thighs and hugs her in all the right places, I have an immediate response to her appearance.

Struggling to erase the dirty thoughts from my mind, I get up from the couch and think of how nasty I played yesterday at home just to keep myself from getting hard. I walk toward Sydney as if drawn to her energy, and forget what I was going to say by the time I’m standing in front of her.

So, like an idiot, I mutter, “Hi.” Real smooth.

Sydney strokes my arm with her nails and peeks up at me from beneath her long, dark lashes. Her blue eyes are so wide they’re like saucers. “Hey, big guy.”

She’s more reserved than normal and so unlike herself. This version of Sydney is not so bad. Maybe the princess needed to be knocked down a peg and thrown from her throne for her to come to her senses.

“Carter,” Kennedy says, as she tugs on my arm to give me a hug, ending my staring contest with Sydney.

I bend down to hug Kennedy back and plant a kiss on her cheek. Kennedy was upstairs getting ready when I came over. She’s glowing already, has the same look my sister had when she was pregnant with Kyle, despite spending most of her morning in the bathroom and throwing up. Tyler lucked out when he found Kennedy. And he deserves someone like her to make up for all the nasty parts of his life.

“So, I’m sure you know the reason we brought you here,” Kennedy announces, pushing her hands onto her hips and speaking with authority.

Tyler takes his place at her side and hooks his arm around her back. He’s like a trained dog with how he responds. “We wanted to ask you guys to be the godparents of our child.”

“I already knew I was the godmother,” Sydney says, confident. “That much was a given.”

Kennedy smiles. “Naturally.”

“You could’ve asked your sister,” Tyler interjects.

“Penny is out of the question,” Sydney says, rolling her eyes. “She would make an awful godmother. Trust me I am a much better choice. If you two were to die suddenly and needed someone to raise your child, you would not want Penny to be the one to do it.”

Tyler’s gaze shifts to Kennedy. “I still haven’t met any of Kennedy’s family.”

My mouth opens in shock. “K, how could you let this man impregnate you and not even introduce him to your father?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. With my family losing their company, I didn’t want to add another thing to the list for my dad to worry about. You know how he gets.”

“That’s why we need to have a party,” Sydney declares. “Once you’re far enough along that we can have a gender reveal party, I am throwing one for you. It will be the perfect event for your families to meet.”

Tyler bites down on his bottom lip. “I haven’t told my parents either.”

“You two are a mess.” Sydney shakes her head, disgusted. “We need to arrange a meet and greet for your families. They need to find out about the baby before you pop the kid out.”

Her comment makes me chuckle, which catches her attention. Sydney locks onto me, never letting go once she meets my gaze. “You will help me, big guy. If we’re going to be the baby’s godparents, then you will plan the parties with me. It will be fun.”

“I don’t know about all that,” I croak. “I have no idea how to plan a baby shower, and family trash is not really my thing.”

I look to Tyler for confirmation that he’s okay with Sydney arranging for their families to meet. He nods in agreement.

It was bound to happen at some time, but I see no rush. Anything family related equals drama to me, so I do my best to distance myself from it whenever possible. Jenny is the only family I need. Well, Jenny and Tyler. And now, this baby, which comes with Kennedy and Sydney.

“I’m famished,” Sydney says in an overly dramatic tone, fanning herself.

Why does she insist on being so over-the-top all the time? And why do I think it’s so adorable? Also, when do I use the word adorable?

I need my head examined. This woman is crazy and intoxicating. When I’m around her, I have trouble saying no—to anything, which is why I went along with her games. She breaks me down, makes me weak. Sydney Carroway is my own personal brand of Kryptonite. But I cannot get enough of her.

“Where do you want to eat? In here or in the kitchen?” Kennedy asks Sydney as if her opinion is the only one that matters.

There’s probably some truth to that. Tyler and I could eat standing next to a dumpster and not give a hoot, and Kennedy is about as go with the flow as a girl can get, but Sydney…I never know how she will react. Miss High Maintenance is always prim and proper. But sometimes, Sydney surprises me.

She throws her dark curls over her shoulder with a loud sigh. “Right here is fine. Tyler, why don’t you grab the food with Carter and give us girls time to chat?”

“Um…yeah, sure.” Tyler motions toward the hall with his head and turns to me. “Wanna help me out?”

I fall in line next to him, glancing over my shoulder at Sydney as we step into the hallway. The corners of her mouth turn up into a smile for a second, before she shifts her attention back to Kennedy.

Why does she have to be so beautiful and have a magnetism about her that draws me to her?

They start talking about the baby, and I walk out of the living room with Tyler. We are no longer either of their concern. Kennedy is probably starving with all the hunger cravings Tyler has been telling me about, and Sydney just likes being waited on, as if we are her servants. That part of her personality will never sit well with me.

Sydney and I come from different walks of life. She has no idea that her air of entitlement will not work with me. I will never be the man she wants. But I want her so bad. When I’m lying in bed at night, alone, I crave her pussy and try to remember how it tastes. Just thinking about her in that tight outfit and only down the hall, makes my toe throb.

Once we’re in the kitchen, I let out the air I was holding in around Sydney. If I don’t do that, she might suck every bit of it out of the room. I never met a girl who makes me this nervous. She intimidates me in ways that I’d never thought possible. One look at where I grew up, and she would think differently of me. I just know it. We are too different to make this work.

But I have to play nice around Tyler and Kennedy, especially now that we are the godparents to their child. That also means spending a lot of time together. The thought both excites and terrifies me, all at the same time.

Tyler removes several catering trays from the fridge and sets them down on the island in the center of the kitchen. He flips the lids off them and slides the plastic dishes toward me. “Put some sandwiches on a plate, would ya? Kennedy likes the egg salad ones, so grab a few extra of those.”

Reaching into the cabinet, I notice Tyler finally has food on his shelves. That’s a new addition along with Kennedy to this house. For years, we’d ordered takeout every time I had come over here. I consider myself lucky if Tyler has a Gatorade or beer to drink. Now, he has the place stocked, like a regular house. Kane Manor is no longer a bachelor pad.

I help Tyler prepare plates of sandwiches for the girls, and it feels normal as if this is something we do all the time. Maybe I could get used to this. My thoughts contradict the other because I am a walking contradiction. I say I don’t want Sydney when I do. I stopped talking to her even though I was dying to see her again.

“I was thinking about your problem,” Tyler says after he finishes arranging the plates in his hand. “If you can pinpoint when your game went to trash, then we can figure out what caused this mental block you’re having.”

Lifting the tray of drinks Kennedy had pre-made from the counter, I balance them in my hands along with two more plates of food. “I don’t see how we’re going to do that. I had no clue when my game went downhill. It just happened over time, and nothing I have done to get it back has worked.”

Tyler turns his head to the side, thinking as we exit the kitchen. “How many saves did you have last season?”

“Not enough,” I grunt, annoyed with myself about how much my average has dropped.

“Look, I asked Liam to go through the tapes for us. We need to figure out when it started. You were killing it at the beginning of last season, and then it was as if you flipped a switch and haven’t been able to turn it back on.”

“You asked Liam to help with this?” I roll my eyes at him as we walk down the hall. “I don’t know if I should be pissed or embarrassed.”

“He’s one of the good ones on our team and knows his trash. I don’t see anything wrong with asking him to go over film.”

Tyler is the leader of our team. And he’s good at it. Liam West is an alternate captain, right winger, and helps Tyler with getting the guys together. He has that same sense of authority as Tyler when it comes to calling the shots.

“Well, did he find anything?”

He shakes his head. “Not yet. He just started looking this week.”

“You’re all about surprises lately,” I say in a condescending tone.

“We need you on point this year. I want to make the playoffs, and we need you to do it. You’re the backbone of this team.”

I laugh. “We both know that’s not true. If anyone is the backbone, it’s you. You’re the team captain.”

My game sucks. But that has nothing to do with Sydney. I was already off before we had met. And the current season is no better.

After I set the drinks on the table along with the plates, Sydney gets up, takes a mimosa, and raises the champagne glass to her lips, staring at me the entire time. She drinks the whole thing in one big gulp, before slamming it down on the table. Without another thought, she takes another flute, this time, sipping from it.

We haven’t spoken a single word, but her eyes do the talking for her. I wonder if mine do the same. A moment of silence passes between us. Studying her every movement, I watch as she finishes off another champagne drink, as if she’s chugging beers at the bar on a Friday night.

I want to reach out and touch her, slip my fingers into her hair and pull her closer. But I hate myself for feeling connected to someone like Sydney. We are so similar yet so different that I have no idea how we could make a relationship work.

My life has order, where Sydney’s seems to have nothing but chaos. She’s like a tornado. You never know how much damage Sydney will cause and when she will strike again. Just when I had thought we were getting somewhere, moving in the right direction, she had switched back to digging for information.

To lessen the tension and to give me something to do other than stare at her like an idiot, I pick up a tiny sandwich and bite into it. Two bites are all it takes to eat this ridiculous excuse for a sandwich. At this rate, I will need to eat the entire plate to fill up.

Sydney strolls over to the couch and plops down, crosses her legs, and then peeks up at me. “Are you going to stand there and stare at me, big guy, or keep me company?” Patting the cushion next to her, she kills me with one look.

Kennedy laughs so hard she snorts. She’s getting a kick out of Sydney’s behavior. Is there ever a moment where Sydney is not in control? When she came to my house the other day, she sounded so sad and unlike herself. Now, she’s back to her usual persona. I wonder if it’s all an act. Like how I have to put on a happy face and smile, even when I feel the darkness creeping up, choking me from the inside.

With a loud sigh, I sit next to Sydney, doing my best to pretend I don’t want this, except I do. I want her with every inch of my being. Just our closeness is giving me a semi.

“Why the long face?” Sydney asks me, stroking my chin with her fingers.

Her touch goes straight to my balls. I should have taken control when we had first met, instead of allowing her to dominate the situation. I played her games, all of which gave me a never-ending case of blue balls.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Princess.” I take her hand from my face, pull it down to my lap, and rub her skin.

Why do I get this feeling in the pit of my stomach every time Sydney is near?

She scoots along the cushion until our bodies are touching, the heat from hers creating a fire that dances along my skin. I know she feels it too because I can see it in her eyes. The desire, the longing is there.

Leaning against me, she pushes her palm down on my thigh to move closer, and whispers into my ear, “Look, I’m going to keep it real with you. I’m scared.”

She moves back just enough that our eyes meet. The passion and intensity burn behind her deep blue irises. For once, there’s seriousness in her tone and in her features. Kennedy and Tyler are too busy eating and talking about the baby to notice what’s happening between Sydney and me. This conversation needs a more intimate setting, but I’m too hard right now to get up and find a more suitable location.

“So am I,” I breath against her lips, taking in the delicious scent of her lip gloss. She smells good enough to eat. “You are making this harder than I had expected. I thought it was just sex…but—”

“But it’s more,” she finishes. “I know, Carter, I feel the same way about you. That’s why I want you to let me in. I’ll share my secrets with you if you tell me yours.” Her voice is so soft and feminine it’s like music to my ears.

“I will,” I confess, trying not to look away from her. “At some point, I will tell you everything you want to know. But you’ll have to be patient with me. I’m not an open book like you.”

She smiles and then brushes her lips against mine. “I love that you used that phrase with me. I also think you have me all wrong. I’m not an open book. There’s a lot more to my story other than trashy novels and sex. Do you think you can forgive me for everything I have done? I know you’re mad at me, and I would like to make it up to you.”

I lift her chin with my index finger to make sure I have her attention. Because I need her to understand this is the last straw. “No more rules. No more games. You are mine. Your pussy is mine. I am through with the trash. If you want me, then I get all of you. It’s that simple. Understood?”

“Yes,” she whispers, nodding her head in agreement. “I am yours, Carter, but I want you to let me in. I don’t expect that to happen right away. I know it will take time. But you can’t shut me out forever.”

I take her hand and pull it up to my mouth, planting kisses on her skin. “I won’t. Just give me some time.”

Cupping her face in my big hands, I bring her lips to mine, invading her mouth as my tongue slips inside. I kiss her as if this is the last time we will ever touch. I kiss her as if she’s my drug of choice because I need her right now, and I need this high. She hops onto my lap and straddles me, grinding her pussy against me as she deepens the kiss.

My fingers slip through her curls, and with a chunk of her hair in my hands, I hold her in a vise because I don’t want this to end. I don’t want to let her go. I missed the trash out of her, even though I have tried to deny it. The only person I was fooling was myself.

Tyler clears his throat in a rather obnoxious manner. His gesture rips me out of the trance Sydney’s luscious body has me under right now. After we finally come up for air, we turn toward Tyler and Kennedy who are sitting at the other end of the long couch, staring at us, as if we are a show they are watching on TV.

“I see you guys made up,” Kennedy says with a wide grin and a sandwich in her hand. She bites into the bread, still smiling at us, like an idiot. “I’m so happy you two are the godparents to our child.” She speaks between bites. “And I hope this works out for you. You guys are too cute together.”

“Thanks, K.” Sydney turns to me and says, “Now, that I have my big guy back I think we need to go on a proper date.”

“Like adults,” I joke, laughing as I say the words. “I don’t know much about adulting or dates.”

Sydney punches me in the arm, lightly. Her fist does nothing as it crashes against my wall of muscle. “Yes, like an actual date.” She leans in so only I can hear her next statement. “And it will have the happy ending I know you want.”

“We both want,” I correct.

She nods. “Yup. It’s yours, Carter. All of me. Whatever you want. I’m done playing games.” The corners of her mouth turn up into a wicked grin. “Not unless you’re into some serious kink, and in that case, I can be whatever you like.”

I fist a handful of her hair and speak against her mouth. “Don’t say things like that, Princess. Not when I’m hard and horny. I’ll bend you over this couch right in front of our friends without even another thought.”

And I will. Heaven knows I want to right now.

“Let’s save the foreplay for our date,” she says, pressing her palms against my chest.

“Fine.” I hold her in place, my eyes trained on every inch of her beautiful face. “A date. Tomorrow night. I’ll pick you up and take you somewhere nice, someplace I know you will like, and then, I’m claiming your pussy.”

She chuckles. “That’s the spirit, big guy. I’ve been waiting for this side of you to come out and play.”

“It’s a date.” There’s nothing left to say.

For the first time in years, I have an actual date. The thought makes me a little giddy. I’m not even sure where I want to take Sydney. All I know is that it had better be perfect for my princess. She deserves the best, and nothing less will be good enough.

Chapter 13

Carter

I can’t find a decent shirt or tie for our date. This is not a good sign. Digging through the walk-in closet in my bedroom, I search for the perfect outfit for my date with Sydney and come up empty handed. She will look nothing short of spectacular. That much I already know without seeing her. Sydney could turn heads in a burlap sack.

On the other hand, I am a giant oaf who has no clue how to dress. Most of the year, I spend in sweatpants, t-shirts, and hockey gear. And I can’t even remember the last time I went on an actual date that wasn’t for the sole purpose of sex. Don’t get me wrong, the night will end in sex, but I actually want to impress Sydney before I claim her pussy, make her mine.

“How have you made it twenty-six years without learning how to dress yourself, baby bro?” Jenny stands in the doorway of my closet, shaking her head. “You’re kind of a mess. You know that?”

My hands tremble as I search through drawers and shelves, hoping something will jump out and hit me on the head and say, Wear this, dummy.

“I made it just fine on my own, thank you very much,” I deadpan. “Do you know how often I have to get dressed up?”

“You have dinners and functions you attend for hockey, and you wear suits for games. I don’t see how this is any different.” She steps into the closet with me and takes the tie from my hands. “First of all, this color does not match the shirt you have on, and second, you look like a hot mess. Your pants are full of wrinkles. Were you rolling around on the floor in them, or did you find them in a pile of dirty clothes?” She holds out her other hand, frowning. “Take them off, and let me iron them for you.”

“No.” I step back from her. “I’m not taking off my pants in front of you, Jenny.”

“Carter, it’s just me, your big sis, the same girl who dressed and fed you for most of your life. Stop being such a weirdo. I have seen you in your boxers a thousand times. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

Even around my own sister, I have body issues I cannot shake. Despite my current conditioning and muscular physique, the same fat kid mentality lingers, always there in the back of my mind. I will probably be somewhat self-conscious for the rest of my life. It’s not something I have ever grown out of as an adult.

As an overweight child, kids picked on me throughout most of school. I never had many friends because of it. Trusting people is hard for me, which is why I have trouble with letting Sydney into my life. But I want to change for her.

If she can drop her high and mighty act and show me the real Sydney, we can make this work. I see a lot of myself in her sometimes. Her self-doubt and insecurity I can identify with. I know it’s there. We have that in common. She doesn’t have to say a word for me to figure that out. Her eyes tell me everything I need to know.

After I stop being a baby, I strip off my pants and hand them over to Jenny. “Thank you,” I say, staring at the ground, ashamed that I acted like an idiot. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

She places her tiny palm flat on my back. “This is what we do for each other. I hope everything works out for you, Carter. You need a good woman in your life. You need someone to make you whole again.”

“The missing piece of the puzzle.”

She’s so tiny in comparison to me. How we share the same DNA is beyond me. I’m almost as tall as the ceiling and more than twice her size in width. Jenny could fit under my arm she’s so small. Just like our mother. I inherited my father’s height and build. But I did not get his temperament. Thank goodness. We are nothing alike regarding personality, and because of that, we have never gotten along.

“I hope she’s the one, or at least the one that will lead you to her. I would like to see you settle down at some point,” Jenny says, clutching the gray slacks in her hands. “I think it would be good for you. The stability is what you need. You can’t live your life this way. The one-night stands and puck bunnies need to stop.”

“I don’t hook up with that many puck bunnies,” I say because it’s the truth. “But I’m a man, and I have needs. I don’t expect you to understand that.”

Explaining why I keep my shirt on during sex is never easy. So, I try to avoid dealing with women who want to know more, which is why Sydney scared me away in the beginning. Her search for the truth was too much for me to handle. I’m still not ready, but at least now, I want to give it a shot.

“Oh, I understand perfectly. We all have needs. I just wish you would find someone that can help you move on. I hate seeing you live your life this way.” Jenny shoves my pants under her arm and grabs hold of my wrist. She brings it up to eye level and runs her fingers over the script writing that marks my skin, reminding me of my past. “Maybe she will be the light you need.”

“That’s what you’re for,” I tell her, with a devious grin.

Jenny frowns, not the least bit entertained. “It’s time you find someone who can shine the light on your darkness, Carter. And it can’t be me. Not anymore. I live too far away now to pull you out of your funks. You need someone who can be there for you when you’re too weak to fight it on your own.”

“I’m not weak,” I spit back, my words thick on my tongue.

“I know that, Carter. I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant. You’re the strongest man I have ever known. Too bad you have never seen that for yourself.” Jenny runs her hand down my arm to soothe me, the same way she did when I was a kid.

After our mother had died, Jenny did this every night when I had trouble sleeping and after she rubbed the cream into the gashes my father had ripped open with his belt or whatever he had near him at the time.

We stand there for a minute, unblinking and unsure of what to say to each other. Jenny knows what I’m thinking without even speaking. If anyone knows my darkness, it’s Jenny. No one understands what I had gone through more than my sister. Our father made her watch every awful thing he did to me just to torture her. That was his way of taking out his anger on Jenny because I always swooped in to save her from his wrath.

I have to leave in thirty minutes, and I still need to trim my beard and shower. While I can guarantee Sydney will be fashionably late, I like to be on time. Maybe a few minutes early, if possible. I have this thing about showing up late.

“I have to get ready,” I tell Jenny, breaking the silence between us. We were quiet far too long without moving or breathing, and it was starting to freak me out.

As if Kyle heard my prayer for someone to save me from my thoughts and this conversation, his voice blares through the speaker of the baby monitor shoved into Jenny’s jean pocket.

She glances down at the walkie-talkie like device and removes it from her pocket to hit a button to silence his screams. “Well, I better get him settled. Sounds like he’s up from his nap. Can you set up the ironing board for me, so I can fix these pants and have you looking like a respectable man for this date? You are going to win this girl over, and move on with your life if it kills me. No more dwelling on the past, Carter.”

I nod. “I will try my best. Miracles don’t happen overnight.”

“They kind of do. That’s why they’re called miracles.” She flashes a playful smirk in my direction. “I’m keeping my fingers crosses that you get the happy ending you deserve. Now, let me take care of Kyle and these pants while you hop in the shower.”

I smile so wide my face hurts. “Thank, Sis.”

“Anytime.” She returns the smile for a second before she exits the closet, leaving me once again to sort out my feelings. I really need to get my trash together before I get to Sydney’s apartment.

* * *

For whatever reason, I am always early. I don’t know why I can never show up at the exact time I am supposed to be somewhere, but that’s how it works out. My sister says it’s a good quality to have and that women appreciate men who are on time. Then, there’s Sydney. The woman is always late, never on time for anything. She would probably show up an hour late to her own wedding.

Sitting on her couch, I wait patiently—or maybe not so patiently—as I tap my fingers on my thigh and to the beat playing in my head. It’s a rap song I had heard on the radio before I came up to her apartment. I can’t remember the name, only the beat, which is enough to help take my mind off things. Sydney makes me so nervous. I have no idea what it is about this woman that has given me anxiety from the start.

Once we’re situated and start talking, I lower my guard around her and feel more comfortable as the seconds pass. But at the beginning of each encounter with Sydney, I get these butterflies in my stomach that I cannot shake. I hate that she has this effect on me. She also has another effect on me when she steps out from her bedroom, dressed like a goddess.

In a long, flowy white dress that drops to the floor, sweeping around her ankles, she looks like an angel. I have had my fair share of models, but Sydney is…I don’t even know what it is specifically about her that I love so much. But she’s incredible. I suppose it’s just because she’s Sydney, an insanely beautiful mess. And I could not be more attracted to her.

Dark curls tumble out from the pins she used to clip her hair behind her ears. She tucks them back in place and runs her hands down the front of the dress that hugs her in all the right spots. I practically salivate over her, my toe growing hard beneath my slacks and tenting my pants. That didn’t take long.

If I want this to work between us, we have to make it to the restaurant and eat our dinner before I have my way with her. Even though I’d rather skip the meal and get right to dessert.

I stand up from the couch, hoping she doesn’t notice my erection, but she never misses a beat. She’s like a shark sniffing blood.

She glances down at my pants and smiles. “I see both of you are ready for the occasion.”

“Oh, I’m ready,” I say, strolling toward her. “You’re mine tonight. After dinner, I plan to spend the rest of the night feasting on your pussy.”

“Carter,” she says, swatting at me, her nails touching me just enough to rake along my skin before I step closer. “Don’t tease me, or we won’t even make it to wherever you are taking me.”

With her in my arms, I plant a kiss on her lips. No tongue, only a soft peck to let her know that I plan to take what she had promised tonight.

“I’m hungry so don’t even think about skipping out on our date.” Her tone has it’s usual authority as if she makes the rules, and I am merely here to follow them.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Princess.” Grabbing the back of her head, I bring her lips to mine once more, staring into her eyes.

But I stop myself from slipping my tongue inside her mouth. Because we both know we will never leave the apartment once we kiss, and I have to do this the right way. The way Jenny had suggested I do things. My sister is never wrong, which is why I have to listen to her advice.

After Jenny had convinced me to play hockey with the kids at the rec center, I almost backed out. I was big, awkward, and far too out of shape to keep up with the boys, but Coach Tucker took me under his wing and helped me out. Between Jenny and my coach, I got my trash together. If anyone was able to shine a light on my life when I needed it most, it was that man, my savior, and the father I had always wanted. But Jenny was my constant, my rock.

She never missed a practice or game, always made sure I was clean, fed, and on time. Look at me now. Who would have predicted that the chubby kid from a small town in Michigan would end up where I am today? Definitely not me. The old me sure couldn’t get a woman like Sydney, but my life changed over the years. Maybe Jenny is right about moving on. It’s time, and I want to do it with Sydney.

Holding Sydney against my chest and taking in the scent of her citrus shampoo, I gaze into her eyes. “Are you ready to see what I have planned for us?”

She nods with a smile crossing her lips. “I was born ready. Lead the way, big guy.”

Chapter 14

Sydney

After a fantastic dinner at Luciano’s, Carter drove back to my apartment with every intention of him staying the night. We both knew going into this date that it would end with sex. But this time, I want it to mean something. Carter seems different, more open with me after our short break. Maybe the time apart was all we needed for him to realize he had made a mistake.

I tried to apologize at dinner for being too forceful with him in the beginning. True to my nature, I pushed, hoping to get my way. But the only thing I ended up with was a broken heart. He sure showed me because I learned my lesson. Now, we’re headed in the right direction. I hope.

By the time I get out of his Hummer, Carter is at my side, lifting me over his shoulder, like a blasted caveman. Without a word, he treks through the parking lot and into the building before ripping the keys from my hand. Within seconds of reaching the door, he shoves the key inside and kicks it open. The fire burning behind his deep brown eyes is so intense that one look goes straight between my thighs.

I already know he will be rough with me. He told me about his desires over dinner. We didn’t go into them in detail. All he said was that he likes things a certain way and that he makes the rules in the bedroom. No more games. Carter was a good sport in the beginning, but I can tell he’s done with my usual antics. This time, I need to give in to him. And I will. Because I want this to work between us.

Seeing a more forward side to Carter excites me, makes me wet in anticipation. My nipples are so hard they are popping through the thin fabric. This dress didn’t pair well with a bra, so my girls out on display more than usual tonight. Carter had trouble focusing on anything but my huge rack all through dinner, and I can’t wait for him to shove his face between them. Every time he licked his lips, I imagined all the naughty things we will do tonight.

Once Carter sets me down on the floor in my bedroom, he lifts my dress over my head, not wasting another second. We have waited so long for this moment that nervous energy dances along my skin, causing the anxiety to creep up from the back of my throat, suffocating me. I hadn’t expected to be this nervous, but everything needs to be perfect.

With my bare chest on display, the chill in the room causes bumps to dot my skin, my nipples getting even harder under Carter’s gaze. He steps closer, massaging my breasts in his hands, rolling his thumbs over the tiny buds. Leaning down to kiss me, he moves one hand to my rear and lifts me up, as if I weigh nothing.

I wrap my arms around his neck and dig my legs into his lower back, twisting my fingers through his hair as I pull him closer to deepen the kiss. The sparks that fly between us send shockwaves through my body, igniting every pleasure point at the same time. His tongue is like magic, and I can only imagine how good it will feel when he’s licking my pussy.

Panting and unable to speak, we break away from each other just long enough to get some air, before Carter lifts me up higher, so he can suck on my nipples, tugging at them lightly with his teeth. A brush of heat sends a blush down my cheeks that spreads throughout my body like wildfire. So far, this is everything I thought a night with Carter Donovan would be like.

After he’s had his fill of the girls, he sets me down on the floor, my thighs smacking together. I’m trembling with need, desperate for more of him. Starting with his belt, Carter slips it from the loops of his black slacks, throwing it on the floor next to him. The room is dark, with barely enough light to see his face, but I have studied every curve in the time we have been together.

He blinks a few times, his gaze never leaving mine, as he pushes his pants, along with his boxers, down to his ankles.

My heart thumps out of my chest from the excitement of the unknown. We haven’t spoken a word since Carter dragged me up to my apartment over his shoulder. I feel as though I should say or do something, but I know he’s in control in the bedroom. This time, Carter will dominate me and take what he wants, fulfilling my every desire. While I like to control the men in my life, I prefer they show a certain amount of force in the bedroom. Luckily, Carter has no problem exercising that power over me.

“Kneel,” he finally says, after stepping out of his shoes and clothes and kicking them behind him. Carter places his large palm on my head and guides me to the floor in the front of him.

I love seeing the carnal side of Carter. Just the thought of his huge cock inside me forces me to lean forward and take his length in my hand, stroking gently before picking up the pace. I look up at him as I do this to gauge his reaction.

With a sexy-as-idiot glaze in his eyes, Carter takes a chunk of my curls between his fingers, the thick muscles in his arms flexing as he tightens his grip. When I lean forward to lick the tip of his erection, he pulls my head closer, ensuring that my tongue makes contact with his sensitive skin.

“Idiot,” Carter mumbles under his breath, a hissing sound escaping his lips as he tilts his head back. “Suck it, Princess.”

I give him lazy licks until he lowers his head and locks onto me. I want him to watch me suck his cock. It turns me on so much that my juices slide down my inner thigh, causing my heart rate to speed up in the process.

He groans. “Don’t tease me. I’m done with the games.” Then, he pushes my mouth onto his cock, forcing me to take most of him all at once. Carter is big. No, scratch that. He’s huge. So, taking this much of him without preparation is not an easy task. But I handled it like a pro, working his shaft with one hand and massaging his balls with the other.

I can feel him in the back of my throat as he rakes his fingers through my hair, practically choking me again when he lifts his hips. He can last long. I’ll give him that. After what feels like an eternity, I continue sucking and stroking before I can tell I have him. He’s almost there.

“Idiot, baby,” he hisses. “I’m going to…” His voice trails off.

I love hearing the sounds he makes when he comes. Listening to him is enough to make me so wet that my juices are pooling between my legs. My pussy throbs for Carter and his big cock, the longing for him growing with each second that passes.

After I swallow, I peek up at Carter, waiting for him to give the next instruction. I will do whatever he wants tonight. I owe him that much. The time we had spent apart was enough to make me realize my games are stupid, and if I want Carter, I have to give in sometimes. I would be lying to myself if I didn’t admit how much handing over the reins to Cater turns me on.

In a soft, sensual tone, he says, “Good girl.” He pats my head as if I’m a dog that he’s about to give a bone.

I should care, because the old me would, but not this time. Now that I have Carter back, I refuse to do anything that could harass this up. I belong to him.

“Get on the bed and spread your legs for me.” His tone indicates an order.

I stand up, looking at him for a few seconds before I do as he says. Sinking into the mattress, I scoot along the bed until my back hits a wall of pillows. I lean my head against the wooden headboard and open my legs, taking in the sight of Carter as he crawls between my thighs. He kisses my bare skin, torturing me, as he lowers himself so that he can bury his face between my legs.

His breath against my pussy makes my toes curl, and when his tongue slips between my folds, I hold my breath, unable to move or think straight. From the start, I had wanted to feel Carter’s beard scratch my pussy as the tiny hairs rub my skin and his tongue works its magic. My mind goes blank the more he laps up my juices and sucks on my clit. And, as he shoves two fingers inside me, his tongue bringing me to the point of convulsing, I concentrate on finding my release as he manages to hit the sweet spot.

Gripping his hair in my hands, I hold him in a vise and scream his name, sounding as if he’s murdering me. I’ve always been somewhat of a screamer, but Carter takes me to a whole other level.

Why did I insist on playing games with him? I had no idea what I was missing out on by withholding sex from Carter. It turns out I was only punishing myself, because my goodness, Carter has some serious skills. He wasn’t joking when he said he was going to feast on my pussy. After every promise he made, Carter did not disappoint. Not even close.

In preparation for tonight, I left the condoms on the nightstand next to the bed. Carter glances up as if searching for them. He spots the box, and his eyes flicker with acknowledgment. Sitting up, he pushes my leg to the side just far enough for him to retrieve a packet from the table next to the bed.

He tears open the foil, staring down at me as he rolls the latex down his length. “Are you ready?”

I nod, nervous about his size as he positions himself at my entrance, before plunging inside my wetness. I have no time to adjust, forced to take all of him at once.

Grabbing my hips, he idiots me hard, so hard that I close my eyes, hoping the pain will soon turn to pleasure. Once it does, I don’t want him to stop. He’s so rough that I’m pretty sure he will leave a mark. I hope he does so that I have proof that this night happened and it wasn’t all a dream.

I slide my hands through his hair that’s just long enough to push behind his ears. He’s so sexy. Combined with the faces he makes as he pounds into me, claiming my pussy, I almost lose my trash. With my legs wrapped around him and digging into his back, I push him further inside me, biting down on my lip from the pain.

Beads of sweat form on his forehead, and when he finally bends down to kiss me, I can taste his saltiness on my lips. He’s a beast on the ice and apparently, a savage between the sheets. But he’s tender for a second, even if it only lasts for the few moments where he stares into my eyes, communicating that he wants more. He’s nowhere near done with me.

Right after I come, he pulls out just long enough to flip me over and onto my stomach. He grabs my hips, positioning me how he wants, and idiots me from behind. This time, he’s more violent. But I don’t care.

Clutching the sheets between my fingers, I use my forearms to support myself and press my lips to the mattress. I scream so loud my throat hurts. Carter is so rough with me, my rear slapping against his skin as he takes what he wants from me. I had no idea he was such an animal before tonight.

He mentioned a few times at dinner that it would hurt. Carter asked me if I was prepared to be spanked, so it’s no surprise when his palm comes down hard on my rear cheek. Despite knowing it would come, I still wasn’t ready for him to whack me with so much force.

He leans forward, fisting my hair in his hands with the other still on my hip. My insides clench around him, and I come again. This time, a series of orgasms wreck me one after another, owning my body. After all the men I have been with, I never had sex like this. I never had Carter with his calloused hands and big cock, manhandling me and ruining me for all men.

He waits until my body relaxes before pulling out of me again. With a steady hand, he moves me onto my back, lifts my legs over his shoulders, and pushes inside me once more. This man has no limits. I swear he could last all night, but he’s already destroyed me. He didn’t just claim my pussy, he owns it.

Kissing my inner thigh, he glances down at me, holding my focus as he goes deeper and deeper. He doesn’t speak, only a series of grunts and idiot me eyes that set my body on fire. After so many orgasms and the pain he caused to get me there, I feel numb all over. It’s as if my body is floating above me, completely detached with the high Carter has given me.

Showing a softer side I haven’t seen from him, Carter drops my left leg onto the bed, still holding the right one, and bends forward to kiss me. He changes his pace as he does this, slowing down just enough to make it hurt less as I yell obscenities against his lips.

My screams die off in his mouth, and my body trembles beneath him. He made me come so many times I have lost track. I had no idea it was even possible to have this many orgasms in one night without the help of a vibrator.

Carter finally comes, his entire body shaking in the process. He grunts and groans, his face writhing in agony, and it’s sexy as idiot. Looking into my eyes, he kisses my forehead, and then, leaves a trail of kisses down my neck and chest before sliding out of me. Out of breath, he rolls onto his side and squeezes my breast once before dropping his arm onto the mattress.

I can barely function, my mind so detached from my body that I couldn’t even formulate a single thought if I tried. Is there anything to say after such world-shattering sex? Where do I even begin?

Our heavy breathing is the only sound filling up the silence in the quiet room. I close my eyes, doing my best to control my heart rate. But I am still having trouble getting a handle on myself. I want more, though I doubt my body would last another round with Carter. He stretched me out so much I already know I will be wearing flats tomorrow. I’ll be lucky if I can do more than hobble around my house. Everything hurts but in the best way possible.

Carter rolls onto his side, after a long pause, and kisses my forehead. “That was…”

“Everything you thought it would be,” I finish for him with a smile.

“More. So much more.” He plants a kiss on my lips, slipping his tongue inside my mouth, as he strokes my jaw with his fingers.

Even after our lips separate, I still want more. I can never get enough of Carter. I’m hungry and desperate, searching for the next high. He rolls off the edge of the bed and walks into the master bathroom without another word.

But when he comes back, he has a washcloth in his hand and a smile on his lips. He plops down on the mattress next to me and opens my legs with his hand.

“I hurt you, didn’t I?” He asks with his eyes pointed down at the bed. “I didn’t mean to be so…”

“Rough,” I finish for him.

He meets my gaze, rubbing the wet cloth between my legs. “Yes. I…I don’t know what to say. It’s just the way I am. I warned you at dinner.”

Watching as he cleans me up with such care, I see another side to Carter that makes my heart melt. He’s sweet and caring when he wants to be.

“It’s okay,” I say, running my fingers through his hair. “I will get used to you after a while. A few more times and I won’t even flinch when you idiot me.”

He laughs. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that. I went easy on you tonight.”

For the first time since we stepped into my bedroom, I notice Carter still has on his shirt. The black oxford is rolled up to his elbows with the black-and-gray striped tie lose and dangling from his neck.

Tugging on his tie, I pull him closer. “Why did you leave on your shirt?”

He shrugs. “I didn’t think about it. I was too busy trying to claim your pussy.”

“Why don’t you take it off, so we can get in the shower together? You can wash me all you want in there.”

He stops touching me, and with the washcloth in his hand, he rolls onto his back, staring up at the ceiling as he speaks. “I’m good, but you can get in the shower if you want. I’ll wait here for you.”

“Don’t be silly, big guy.” I finger the top button of his shirt, working my way down when he clamps his hand on top of mine.

“Stop it, Sydney.” His tone completely changes from the lighter version I had only a few seconds before. “I don’t want to get in with you, and I’d like to keep my shirt on. Is that going to be a problem?”

“No,” I choke out, holding back my tears.

Upset by his words, I sink back into my spot on the bed, thinking of what to do next. Why is he such a toe after I gave him everything he wanted? I’m so confused I want to run into the bathroom and ball my eyes out. But I won’t. That will only ruin things between us. He’ll think I’m still the same drama queen he first met. To some extent, I guess I am. Even though I am trying my best to change my ways. For him.

A beat passes between us before he reaches over and clutches my hand, giving it a quick squeeze. “I’m sorry. Remember how I told you at dinner I have certain limits?”

“Yes,” I whisper, too afraid to make eye contact with him.

“This is one of them. Understand?”

“No, not really.” That’s the truth. “I don’t see why we can’t shower together.”

“We just can’t. Okay?” He waits for me to nod before he continues. “You will have to get used to certain things about me until I become more comfortable with you. I need time. That’s all.”

“Okay.” I lean my head on his shoulder and peek up at him. “I will wait for you, Carter.”

“Good.” He flashes a panty-dropping smile. “Now, bend over the bed, so I can claim your pussy all over again.”

Hooking my leg over his, our limbs intertwined, I plant a kiss on his lips. This is nice. Being with Carter is so different from the other men I have dated. While I’ve never been with a man so aggressive and forceful, I’m excited by the promise of more.

“You never do what I tell you to do,” he mumbles against my lips. “But you will when we’re in the bedroom. Got it?”

“Uh-huh,” I breathe.

Before I have time to peel myself away from him, Carter grips me up and turns me onto my side. He brushes my hair from my neck, places kisses along my skin, and down to my shoulder.

“You need to get on the pill,” he tells me, his breath sending chills down my spine. “I want to forget you without anything between us.”

Looking over my shoulder at him, I think over his comment before I say, “I’ve been on it since high school.”

With his massive erection digging into my rear cheek, I know what is about to come. And I allow it. Carter positions himself to line up with my entrance, his cock sliding inside me. For some reason, I trust him. And I’m not clueless when it comes to taking my medicine, unlike Kennedy.

Carter stretches me out once more, taking things slower this time. He must know I can only handle so much of him in one night, and I am thankful.

“You feel so good, baby,” he says into my ear, gripping my hip. “So wet for me. You were right. You were worth the wait.”

I fight back the tears, his words having an overwhelming effect on me. While I may not understand his weird issues in bed, I know I cannot go back to a life without Carter in it.

“So were you,” I mutter under my breath. “Now, idiot me like I know you want to.”

I feel the smile on his lips as he presses them against my skin.

It’s going to hurt. I’m prepared. This is my way of giving into him. Carter is the exception to my rules. And he’s breaking all of them. I just hope he doesn’t break my heart.

Chapter 15

Carter

It’s been three weeks since my date with Sydney. In such a short amount of time, I feel myself wanting to open up to her. Unfortunately, every time I try, the words never come out. Instead, I’m left speechless, which usually leads to us having sex again. At least during those tender moments with Sydney, I don’t have to explain myself. There’s no prying into the past or my life.

Sydney has gotten used to having sex with my shirt on, though I know she would rather me harass her completely naked. I wish I could. I wish I could change the reasons I have these issues. But the insecurities are still there, and I’m not ready to show her the tattoos on my back. Only Jenny can see them. She’s the only person who understands the importance of their meaning.

After practice, I hit the shower, washing as fast as possible, so I can get dressed and back to Sydney’s apartment. I spend most of my time there now. Even though our practice facility is closer to my house than hers, she insists on sleeping in her own bed. And since she’s been so understanding of my quirks, who am I to deny her the one thing she asks of me?

Liam West, our starting right winger, and an alternate captain strolls over to me in black track pants that hang low from his waist and a Flyers T-shirt. He’s been with the Flyers one season longer than Tyler and has a lot of talent that has gone to waste on this team. I’m hoping we can get something going since we’re already a few weeks into the new season, and we haven’t pulled our heads out of our assess.

“Have you seen the tapes?” Liam asks me, running a hand through his shaggy brown hair. A dusting of freckles covers the bridge of his nose and cheeks, and when he smiles, the dimple in his left cheek creases his skin. “Tyler thinks we found something that might help you get your game back. I haven’t seen anything unusual, but who knows. Tyler knows you and this team better than anyone.”

“Thanks for doing that.” I feel stupid that Tyler had Liam dig through film just to see where I lost my way. “Hopefully we can use whatever is on those tapes.”

As a professional athlete with a career on the line, I should have done it for myself. Too bad I hadn’t thought of it before Tyler had proposed the idea to Liam. I also wonder how many people on the team know about our experiment. Knowing Tyler, he kept this on the down low, or at least I hope he did. With secrets of his own, he’s not one to go blabbing about other people. I also didn’t expect him to ask Liam for help.

“I hope so.” He sighs. “If we get knocked out of the playoffs again, I’m going to lose my trash.”

“Me, too. I can’t handle another year of missing the playoffs. My contract is up next year, so I have more on the line than the rest of us.”

“That wouldn’t stop the organization from trading any of us.” He says the words with a sour look on his face. “You’ll get your game back. Just hang in there, and it will all come back to you. Well, I have to get going. I have a date with this chick I met a few days ago.”

“Since when do you do dates?” I deadpan with a smirk my lips. Liam is just as much a player as Tyler and me. Or at least as much as we were before we met our girls.

He shrugs. “I don’t. I was just being nice and calling it a date.”

I laugh at his comment and slap him on the back. “You better get to it then. I’m off to meet up with my girl now.”

“You and Tyler,” he says, shaking his head, disappointed, “what a bunch of pussies you guys turned into.” He catches my frown and adds, “Don’t think I haven’t overheard your conversations about Sydney. You two are like a bunch of girls gossiping over their boyfriends.”

“ I am not.” I make a fist and punch him hard in the biceps.

He laughs it off, taking a step back from me. “Tyler maybe, but I am not pussy whipped.”

“Whatever you say.” He flashes a set of white teeth as the corners of his mouth turn up into a smile. “I’ll catch you later, man.”

I nod. “Later. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Liam smirks. “That’s a short list.”

There’s some truth behind his words. If only I could get past my wall, and do the one thing every sane man does in front of his woman. Only time will tell. Sydney promised to wait. She’s been very patient with me. Soon enough, I plan to show her everything, down to the deepest part of my soul. She should know what she’s getting herself into before it’s too late.

Liam walks past me, slinging a gym bag over his shoulder as he exits the room, disappearing into the hallway. Most of the guys are shuffling about, some in towels and other dressed and on their way home. After the night I had with Sydney, I’m jonesing to give her pussy another pounding. Just thinking about Sydney has my toe at half-mast.

On my way out of the locker room, Tyler clamps his hand down on my shoulder to stop me. “Hey, do you have a minute? I want to show you something.”

I come to a halt. “Is it about the tapes? Liam said you guys found something on them.”

Tyler drops his hand back down to his side, a sullen expression scrolling across his face. With one look, he makes me nervous. “What did you find?”

“It’s easier if I show you. Liam didn’t pick up on it, but I know you well enough to know this has to be the reason.” He guides me down the long hall, checking over his shoulder before he removes his cell phone from his pocket.

We stop at the end, leaning our backs against the cinderblock. Tyler sucks in a deep breath as he flips through his phone in silence. A beat passes between us where my stomach knots in anticipation of what he found, while Tyler scrolls through videos with a worried look in his eyes.

“Got it,” he announces, holding the phone out so I can see it. The screen is paused, the images of the players blurry and pixelated. “Do you remember when we played the Capitals at home last season, and I got into it with Parker before he got his rear traded to the Flyers?”

“I guess.” I have no particular memory of the game, only Tyler and Parker taking turns whooping each other’s rears up and down the ice.

“Just watch. You’ll see the same thing as me.” He hits play on the video.

I watch as our guys turn over the puck to Alex Parker. On a breakaway, Alex rushes down the ice with our guys trailing behind him, moving the puck from left to right, as he attempts to dodge our guys. That idiot is fast. I’ll give him that. We lucked out when we acquired him from the Capitals. Nothing on the footage is out of the ordinary. As per the usual, Alex is showing off his puck handling skills and speed.

But then it happens. As Alex gets closer to the net, I sink into position, waiting for him to attack. I’m ready and determined to stop the puck until Alex moves his stick back to take the shot and Tyler comes up from behind and trips him. Alex falls forward and into me, his stick landing down hard on my back. I flinch at the sight of him hitting me.

I’m instantly taken back to the days where my dad would hit me so hard with his belt I couldn’t sleep for days. The pain was unbearable.

“Idiot,” I mumble under my breath.

Resting my head against the wall, I look up at the ceiling, unable to watch anymore. Memories of the past come flooding through my mind, and I cannot stop them. My father was the reason for so many wrongs in my life. When it had come to hockey, he left me alone, let me do my own thing. But I always paid for his bad moods and violent outbursts.

There were times when I would come home from a game, pleased with myself for doing so well, only for my father to get into a fight with Jenny that had required me to intervene. Those nights were the worst. Most of the time, he would yell at Jenny for working extra shifts, all of which were to help pay for my hockey equipment or to put gas in her car to take me to a scrimmage. After everything she had done for me, I wasn’t about to let her take the brunt of the harassment. Not when I was able to take that pain for her.

“Don’t worry. Liam has no idea what I found. I can guarantee no one would ever figure this out. It took me a while to notice the change in your behavior after it had happened. I flipped through to the end of the game and compared it to the game before and after. I knew right away that Parker’s stick was the reason you’ve lost your mojo. All the signs are there. It’s as if you are associating hockey with your dad now.”

For the last few months, I’ve dwelled on the past more than normal, allowed it to invade all of my waking thoughts and even my dreams. Sometimes, I have nightmares of my childhood. I try to bury them, lock them up and throw away the key, but the past always comes back to haunt me. I can never escape the wrath of my father. He left me with scars to prove it, and the tattoos that cover my shame.

“Jerk,” I say, shaking my head, trying to ignore my father.

I still remember the way his face would twist in disgust, his expression quickly turning to pleasure, as my dad would hit me with the belt. The thought of him taking out his anger over my mother’s death on me causes my back to sting. It’s like a phantom pain. Even to this day I sense him, feel the marks he left behind. He enjoyed hurting me, just as I like being rough with women. Now, Sydney gets to experience how messed up I am for herself. She has no idea why I am this way.

“Who would’ve thought Parker, of all people, would be the one to mess with my game.” There’s no sense in overthinking things in the hallway of our practice facility.

Some of the guys pass us with bags in their hands and over their shoulders, talking to each other as they pass. Tyler and I ignore them so we can finish talking.

“I know, right?” Tyler chuckles to himself. “What a toe. We should beat the trash out of Parker for messing with our best player.”

“I’m hardly our best player, Captain,” I smirk.

He rolls his eyes at me. “You’re one of the best goaltenders in the league.”

“I was the best,” I correct.

“You will be again,” he says, confident. “Now that we know what caused your problem, we can fix it.”

“It’s not like Parker did it on purpose,” I tell him, my tone more serious.

“Yeah, I know. I guess the only question I need answered is how to fix my game. We have to make playoffs this year. I don’t care if we get knocked out in the first round as long as we get there.”

“How do you suggest we do that?”

He shrugs, unsure of himself for once. “No clue. I guess I’ll leave that one up to you to figure out now that you know how it all started. I’d say go see the team doctor, but they would probably just tell you some trash. We already know what caused your game to slip. All you have to do is figure out how to make it stop. You have done it before. If anyone can turn away from their past, it’s you.”

“I haven’t done such a good job of it so far.”

“Maybe you need to start by showing Sydney your back. It’s time to let someone else into your life. Look, I’m not a shrink, so I have no idea what would work. It’s up to you to sort through your trash. We need you, man. Get it together and do it fast.”

“I can’t make any promises, but I’ll do my best.”

“Good to hear it. Now, can we get out of here, so we can go home to our women? Kennedy is making something for the baby that she’s dying for me to see. She sent me at least twenty messages about it since we’ve been here.”

“Yeah, let’s get out of here.”

We walk down the hall, side-by-side, and when we hit the parking lot, Tyler’s face lights up after receiving another message from Kennedy. I get the same giddy feeling every time Sydney calls me to check in. I never thought either of us could be happy, not after all the things we let stand in the way.

Maybe it’s time to let Sydney be the light to my darkness. Maybe she will help lead the way.

Chapter 16

Sydney

“Carter,” I moan, a whisper on my lips as I bury my face into the mattress and scream as Carter pounds into me. “Harder…” My voice dies off in my throat, the sound muffled by the comforter.

He was right about getting used to the pain, because with that pain, comes pleasure. Bringing his hand down hard on my rear cheek, he gives me what he calls a love tap, before clutching my hips as I come for him once more. The man is like a machine. We idiot, and we idiot, but it’s never enough. And I like it this way. Carter satisfies every one of my desires. But I wish he would take that shirt off. It’s been two months of orgasmic sex, plus the time we were together before our break, and I have yet to see him completely naked.

In the time we have known each other, I would have thought by now he would lower his guard for me. I allowed him to break through my barriers, so it’s only fair he does the same.

He must be one of the few professional athletes without at least one shirtless picture online. I scoured the Internet for some lady jerk off material and came up empty handed. Even in person, I can’t get the real thing. That’s a small price to pay in comparison to what I get in return. Carter is a sex God and the cure for the female orgasm. Our sex life has become a huge help to my writing, and Carter is my muse in both the literal and figurative sense.

Spanking me harder this time, he changes the angle by moving me into position, sinking deeper inside me. Flat on my stomach with my rear up, Carter reaches beneath me to pinch my nipple, twisting the bud with his fingers and takes what he wants. His shirt, slick with sweat, is stuck to my back, reminding me of our strange arrangement. If only he would open up to me, let me into his world.

Why does he insist on keeping that thing on in front of me? He has no reason to be afraid.

After we both come, Carter kisses the rear cheek that probably has a welt from his palm and pulls out of me, holding onto my waist, so I don’t tip over. My body and pussy are his and aching for more. But my legs are shaking so bad I need his support.

He wraps his arm around me as we fall back onto the mattress together. Stroking my hair with his fingers, he leans my head on his chest. Carter has done some variation of this since the first night we had sex. I think he’s sorry for being so rough with me. Some days, Carter handles me like a ragdoll, forgetting it’s me he’s. It’s almost as if he goes into this lust-filled zone that I cannot get him out of until after he finds his release.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into my ear. He does this every time we have sex.

“It’s okay, big guy.” I rub my hand down his arm, feeling the ridges of his muscles. “I understand. You don’t have to apologize.”

“No, you don’t understand. That’s the problem.”

With my back pressed up against his chest, I can’t look into his eyes and see what he’s thinking. Not that his eyes would give me any indication. Unlike me, Carter is not an open book. His eyes are not the windows to his soul. Most of the time, he’s unreachable, so far from my grasp that I feel as though he will slip away from me.

I have no control when it comes to Carter. Whatever power he allowed me to exercise over him was clearly for my benefit. It was his sneaky way of getting into my pants, all part of his master plan. Whether I had realized or not, Carter was the one working me over. Not the other way around.

“I want to understand, Carter. Why don’t you tell me why you like it this way?”

He plants kisses on my neck, avoiding the question before moving me onto my side of the bed. At this point, he has me conditioned not to prod for information. I cannot lose him again, so I hold my tongue when it comes to the small thing he asks of me. Patience has never been my virtue, but when it comes to Carter, he’s the exception to everything. I’m also falling in love with him, which scares me even more.

What if he doesn’t share my feelings? What if he rejects me? The thought of him walking away from me again terrifies me, makes me want to be a better person. For him. For us. For our future together. I set aside my childish behavior for Carter. Now, I have to wait patiently until he spills all his secrets, lets me into his very private life.

Even Kennedy doesn’t know what he’s hiding. All she knows is that it’s something big that Tyler won’t tell her about. He says it’s not his place, considering he kept his own secrets at bay for years.

Rolling onto my side, I watch as the mattress dips beneath his weight, and Carter gets up from the bed. He glances down at me for a second, smiling. His legs are like trunks of solid muscle, his arms like chiseled steel, and the tattoos that mark most of his body are like a road map of his perfect dips and valleys. I wish I knew the meaning of his tats. The answers are behind the pictures and words. If only I could figure out how to navigate them.

Tell me all your secrets, I think to myself as he winks at me and walks into the bathroom. Tell me what you’re hiding from me.

He comes back with a washcloth, same as always. Carter has this odd habit of cleaning me after we have sex. I’ve never had a man do this before, and I like it. While he’s aggressive and passionate during sex, he’s tender and soft after we finish. It’s as if he tries to make up for hurting me. But what he doesn’t realize is that I like our rough sex. I like when he spanks my rear and pulls my hair. Carter opened my eyes when it comes to trying new things.

I may write about bondage, and whatever taboo topic pops into my head. But rough sex, the kind I have only watched in a porno or read in books is one thing I have never written from personal experience. Now, dating a teacher and writing about it was a no brainer for me. That story was real and raw. I hooked up my English teacher all through high school. Every detail of that story I wrote through my own eyes.

Sometimes, the forbidden world, like the one I have with Carter, is so much more enticing. Except I never saw a future with my sexy teacher. He took my virginity and hoped for more after graduation, but I always knew our relationship wasn’t meant to be. We never had the chemistry I have with Carter.

After Carter completes our post-sex ritual, he holds me tight against his chest and kisses my hair. “I’m exhausted,” he breathes, resting my head on his shoulder. “I have to get up for practice in a few hours. I need my sleep, Princess. No more for tonight.”

I try to hide my laughter and fail. “We already had sex three times since you got here. I think you filled your quota for the day.”

“I can never get enough of you. Your pussy is hard to resist.”

“My pussy is sore and needs a break anyway.”

He laughs, shaking my body in the process.

“It’s not funny.” I smack him on his thick thigh with a loud crack, giving him a taste of his own medicine.

“You have no idea how much I like you.” His voice is a faint whisper. He sounds as if he’s dozing off already.

You have no idea how much I love you, I want to say but keep my mouth shut. Instead, I mutter, “I know. Me, too.”

“You’re beautiful and perfect,” he sounds as if he’s slurring the words. “I’m glad I met you, Sydney.”

This man has the ability to fall asleep faster than anyone I have ever met. Sex takes so much out of him, which is not at all surprising with the way he idiots me.

A single tear falls from my eye and slides down my cheek. I wish I could tell him how I feel without chasing him away. How can I love a man who won’t open up to me?

“I love you, Carter,” I whisper as he snores in my ear. I don’t expect an answer, but it feels good to say it aloud.

* * *

After thirty minutes of heavy breathing, I slide out from beneath Carter’s large frame, watching him sleep for a few moments before I retreat to my office. I have to get some work done. Sam has been up my rear to get the outline done for the new book. Now that Carter and I are back together, he expects me to write the fictionalized version of our love story. Except I have no idea how it ends.

How do I write what Sam believes will sell off the shelves when our story is not complete?

I changed Carter’s name to Chuck and mine to Savannah, same as Kennedy’s younger sister. While all the similarities are there, I still need more information to fill in the gaps. Like me, Savannah is a girl from a stable upbringing. She lived a sheltered life, full of wealth and privilege, which led to becoming a very over-the-top adult. I channeled my constant need to act out into Savannah’s personality.

Chuck is a Wall Street banker with secrets he keeps from the world, much like Carter. He’s amazing in bed, of course, because that part I wanted to keep intact. I have to dig deeper into Carter’s life if I want to finish this book. I need more depth to his character and a reason for all the secrecy. To stick with the tropes, I made Chuck the bad boy with all the control.

From the start, I only had what Carter allowed me to take. Because he’s the one with the real power in this relationship. Along with my body, he has my heart, the one thing he can break into a thousand pieces. Struggling to come up with the details for this outline, I tap my nails on the keyboard and stare at the computer monitor. It’s well after three in the morning. I should be tired after going so many rounds with Carter. While my body feels like Jell-O, my brain refuses to shut down, still working on overdrive.

Too bad nothing is coming to me. I have nothing to write because I need the truth. Learning more about Carter is essential to writing this book. After wasting far too much time playing solitaire, hoping an idea would pop into my head, I get up from behind the desk. Walking down the hall on my tippy toes, I open the door to my bedroom a crack and do my best not to make a sound.

Carter stirs when I get into bed with him, rolling onto his side to grab my boob. How do all men somehow know exactly where to go even in sleep? It’s as if their minds are trained to do the same movements both awake or asleep. Luckily, he’s turned toward me. If I can sit up enough to see behind him, even in the darkness, I might be able to get a peek at what he’s hiding.

I need to know. I’m done waiting for Carter to confess the reason he keeps his shirt on in bed. There has to be something he’s hiding beneath the fabric. Lifting up his shirt, I take in the sight of his muscular stomach and my breath hitches. He’s still naked, and now that I’m getting more of the Carter Donovan experience, my wetness pools between my legs.

I’m tempted to take his cock in my hand and give him a few strokes to wake him, but I need to do my research first. The story depends on it. His torso is free of ink, which is surprising considering the number of tattoos on the rest of his body. Now, I feel stupid. There’s nothing wrong with this man. He has a body worth sculpting and the face to match.

So, why does he hide from me? Why does he need to keep on his shirt as if it’s his security blanket?

Doing my best not to disturb Carter, I slip out from his grasp and off the bed. Pleased with myself, I take my time and climb in behind him on the other side. He doesn’t move this time. I listen as he breathes with my hand trembling as I lift up the back of his shirt. There’s so much dark ink on his back I have trouble seeing all of it in the darkness.

The only light I have to work with shines through a small opening in the curtain. Good thing this building has outdoor lights spread out along the property because my room would be pitch black otherwise. Still, the light is not enough to get a good look. As I push up Carter’s shirt, trying not to touch his skin in the process, I suck in a deep breath.

Covered in what appears to be a jigsaw puzzle, the artwork takes up most of the surface, leaving almost no space on his back. This cannot be what Carter has been hiding from me. I’m so confused I stare at each piece of the puzzle. I can only hope I find something within these pictures that I can understand. Otherwise, I’m back at square one.

In the left hand corner, he has a bear fused inside the puzzle piece. I have never seen something so intricate drawn onto someone’s skin. Each piece of the puzzle links together. Below the bear, the next square contains a dragonfly. Strange choice for a man, but I assume it has some hidden meaning. After that, he has a group of black birds that look like ravens spun into a circle of some sort. All I know from reading is that ravens symbolize death.

My heart aches just thinking about the raven tattoo. Next to the birds is what appears to be a boulder on the edge of a mountaintop. Strange choice. Carter’s back is like a canvas, all of the pictures painted with care. He apparently chose these for a reason.

I smile when I see a goaltender mask with two sticks behind it. Of course, he has one for hockey. Sometimes, I forget he’s the star goalie for the Flyers and not just the man I have come to know. With hockey just starting back up again, I have yet to fully experience the man behind the mask. Connected to the hockey square, Carter has a tree spun into a circle. It’s almost the same as the raven's concept with how the branches are intertwined.

On the last row, Carter has a dragon filling the block that connects to an empty square. All of his tattoos seem so symbolic, yet I have no clue what any of them mean to him. And why is one of them blank? It seems odd that he would leave this masterpiece unfinished.

“What are you doing?” His words startle me, causing me to drop his shirt and jump back, almost falling off the edge of the bed.

I manage to hold on long enough to sit up and lean against the stack of pillows behind me. “Nothing,’ I whisper, ashamed of what I have done.

I should have waited for Carter to show me his back, but instead, I had to go and pry. While I’m not sorry for my actions, a sickness rises up from the back of my throat, choking me. Will he punish me? Will he freak out?

Carter sits up, tugs his shirt back down over his stomach, and turns to face me. “Answer me.” His voice indicates an order.

My hands are shaking from the power of his words. “I wanted to see what you’re hiding,” I choke out, nervous and afraid of what will come next.

At first, he doesn’t speak, causing my heart to thump out of my chest, as I wait for him to respond. “You had no right,” he spits out through clenched teeth. “I told you I would tell you more when I’m comfortable. I am not ready. What do you not understand?”

“But…” My voice is a whimper. “But I’m falling for you, Carter. I need to know what the man I love is keeping from me. I want to know all your secrets. You should be able to talk to me. We can be there for each other.”

“Maybe I don’t want that,” he hisses. “Maybe I don’t want to be with a woman who can’t respect my privacy.” He reverts to his usual defensive tone. I get the same thing from him every time I touch on sensitive subjects.

“Carter,” I plead, “you don’t mean that. You feel something for me. Whether it’s love or lust, I know you feel it, too.”

“You couldn’t just leave things alone, could you? You had to dig and dig until you found what you were looking for, just like Kennedy did to Tyler. Well, I’m not Tyler, so don’t think that trash will work on me.”

“I know.” I grab hold of his arm and lock onto him. “Please don’t be upset with me. I just want to know more about you. Is that so bad?”

He turns his head away from me and sighs. “Yes…no…I don’t know. I’m messed up. I’m broken. Is that what you want to hear?”

“I’ll take whatever you will give me. I’m curious about your tattoos, always have been. Will you tell me what they mean?”

He pinches the bridge of his nose and rests his head against the backboard, staring up at the ceiling. “Why do you have to be so persistent, woman? You never take no for an answer.”

“Because you will never tell me if I don’t poke you for answers.”

“Are you really in love with me or is just my cock you want?” Even in the darkness, I see a tiny smile cross his lips.

“Both,” I deadpan, “but I want you a lot more. Your cock is just the consolation prize for winning you.”

“You’re weird,” he says, his tone playful, less serious.

“So are you. That’s why this works for us, big guy.”

“I hate when you call me that.”

“You remind me of The Hulk. It’s not a bad thing. He’s kind of cute when he’s mad, just like you.”

“Kind of cute?” He snorts. “Cute is what you say when you see a picture of a baby or a puppy. I’m a man, and men are not cute.”

Hooking my leg over his, I press my lips to his cheek. “You’re sexy. My pussy is already dripping wet, and you haven’t even touched me.”

“Don’t even start, Princess.” He grabs his cock and gives himself a few strokes. “You know what I want. Now, give it to me.”

“I do, and I will give it to you, but I want something in return.”

“Not this trash again,” he grunts. “We are done with the games.”

“Humor me,” I say before I climb over him and get in between his legs. “Tell me something. Anything.” I stick my tongue out, licking up his shaft until I get to the head and stop.

“I’ll tell you what.” He places his big hand at the back of my head. “You make me come, and I’ll tell you what the first tattoo means.”

“You’re using sex…I like it.” I smile because this is my kind of game.

“Then, quit yapping and start sucking.” Carter guides my head, lowering me onto his cock, and I do as he says.

His moans are my reward. The entire time, I say a prayer that he will keep his promise. Even though this is a strange way to open up to someone, it’s more than I have gotten from Carter in the past. This is a start. A really messed up start.

Chapter 17

Carter

Sydney is in love with me. Her words had put me in a state of shock. Like an idiot, I changed the subject, because I had no idea how to respond. Do I love her back? Maybe. I think so. I’ve never been in love before. I never allowed a woman to get close enough to win me over.

Fisting her hair in my hands, I stare down at the beautiful woman sucking my cock and wonder how we have gotten to this point. Love. I never thought a woman would love me for anything more than my star power, money, or even my cock. But Sydney wants more. She’s not like the other girls, even though she may be even more of a pain in the rear.

My God does this woman know how to suck a toe. That alone makes her girlfriend material. Combine our killer sex life with her looks and brains, and I have hit the trifecta with Sydney. I never dated a smart girl before. She always has to one-up me because of it, but I also like her more because of it. Sydney challenges me in ways I never allowed in the past. Everything with her is outside my comfort zone.

Whether I planned it or not, my walls have slowly come down for Sydney. Maybe sharing the parts of me that I had locked away and hid from the world, like broken Christmas ornaments in an attic, will be good for me. For our relationship. For whatever future we could have together.

I grip her hair tighter as I come, uttering a series of curses and grunts. This feels so good I don’t want it to end.

After she licks her lips, Sydney peeks up at me from behind my erection that apparently will not quit. “Okay, big guy, time to talk.”

Three words no man wants to hear.

“But I’m still hard,” I counter, trying to avoid this discussion.

My joke earns me a punch in the leg. “You’re like a walking hard-on. You get hard if the wind blows in a particular direction. Nice try, buddy.”

“Not true.” I smirk. “I’m not that easy.”

She scoots along the mattress until she’s sitting next to me with her elbow propped up on a stack of pillows. “We don’t have a lot of time.” Sydney glances at the clock on her bedside table and turns back to me. “You have to leave for practice in an hour, and you still need to shower.”

“Who says I need to shower,” I say to mock her, even though I do need to get my rear in gear.

She rolls her eyes. “Fine. Be a dirtball. Go stink up the locker room.”

“I’m getting one. Would you calm down already, woman?”

She flashes a bright smile. “You should get in with me. Let me wash you for once.”

A long pause passes between us as I mull it over. Sydney has seen my tattoos, regardless of how it happened. The first part is over. She saw the ink, knows there must be some personal meaning to them. Next, comes the hardest part. I hate talking about my past and myself. But I made a promise, and I’m not the kind of jerk who makes a habit of breaking them.

“Okay.” I submit.

“Really?” Her eyes widen in surprise. “Without your shirt, right?”

I laugh. “Yes, without my shirt.”

I slide off the bed, beckoning her to follow me into the bathroom. She does as I want and without me asking.

Pulling up my shirt, I hesitate out of habit, before I tug it over my head and drop it onto the tile floor. Sydney walks in behind me, naked and with a smile on her beautiful face. With her huge, perky belly out on display, I have trouble focusing on anything but her chest.

I get hard just thinking about shoving my toe between them. But I have to calm down. What we’re about to do is not about sex. It’s about getting to know each other.

She steps into the double shower, tiled from floor to ceiling, and turns the knobs for each shower head, feeling the water with her hand as she adjusts the temperature. At least we both can fit inside.

I guess that’s one nice perk about Sydney being loaded. She already has her own money and all the luxuries that come with it. Sydney will never be dependent on me. I had enough of the freeloading wanna-be baby mamas to last a lifetime before Sydney had come along. Her independence is a nice change of pace from the norm.

Once I get in with her, Sydney presses her palm to my chest, pushing me beneath the water. She reaches up and tries to rub shampoo in my hair, but I’m too tall, which causes her to smear some of it down the side of my face.

She chuckles, her laughter contagious, because the two of us stand there, looking at each other, laughing. “You look even sexier when you’re wet, big guy. I’m glad we’re doing this. Together.”

“So am I.” It’s the truth. “But you missed a spot,” I tell her, taking the glob of shampoo from my face and rub it into her hair.

She tilts her head back, allowing the water to wash over her, the soap sliding down her chest. “Who knew taking a shower with you could be so fun?” The corners of her mouth turn up into a smile that mirrors mine.

“I guess there’s a first time for everything.”

I help Sydney wash her hair, digging my fingers through her curls. After we’re done, I take the body wash from the ledge, soap up the loofa, and rub it over her chest.

“Start talking,” she says, staring up at me with big, blue eyes that look right through me.

She’s known all along that I’ve been hiding something and has called me on out my trash. Little did I know this dark-haired vixen would steal my heart. Sometimes, people take you by surprise, and Sydney is one of them.

“Okay.” I suck in a deep breath and let it out, preparing myself for her reaction. “The first tattoo on my back. I got that one for my mother. She was killed in a car accident when I was nine years old.”

Her eyes and mouth widen in shock. She clamps her hand down on my forearm. “I’m so sorry, Carter.”

“It’s okay. My mom died a long time ago. I barely remember her at this point. She called me her little cub, which is the reason I have a cub inside the jigsaw piece. Her death was the moment it all started for me. When she would put me to sleep at night, my mom would kiss me on the forehead and whisper, Sleep, my little cub. As the years went by, I stopped remembering certain things about her, but I never forgot what she’d said to me at night. My sister had taken over after my mom was gone for a while. I was almost a teenager by the time Jenny stopped tucking me in every night.”

Sydney wipes the corner of her eye. It’s hard to tell with the water hitting her face, but I think she’s crying. I pull her against my chest and wrap my arms around her. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m fine. I survived. That’s all that matters.”

“Why are you like this, Carter?” She chokes out. “If it’s not your mother, then why?”

“It was everything that happened after her death.” Loosening my grip on her, I turn around, so she can get a better view of my back. I reach over my shoulder and point to the second tattoo. “I got this one because of my father.”

“What kind of birds are these?”

“Ravens. They symbolize death.”

I explain how my father was called to the scene of my mother’s car accident and how it destroyed him, ruined our family. She doesn’t speak, but I can hear her whimper, as she runs her hand along my back. The first time our skin makes contact, I flinch, closing my eyes as if my father had just burned me with another cigarette or hit me with his belt.

Sydney hugs me from behind, and I grip her hands in mine, never wanting to let go. This is not the reaction I’ve had from women in the past. They look at me as though I am broken—because I am. Instead of disgust or pity, I get love and affection, the kind of response I had always hoped for and never got in return.

“Will you tell me more?” She asks with her lips pressed against my skin. “Or is this too much for you?”

After rehashing everything from being overweight and insecure as a kid to the beatings my father would give me just for being born, I might as well continue. She deserves to know the rest of my story.

Pressing my palm flat against the tiled wall, I allow the water to run down my back. Every time Sydney slides her hand over one of my tattoos or kisses my skin, it hurts as if I am in physical agony. But as she continues to do this, the pain lessens. I adapt to her touch. I’m not afraid anymore because it’s Sydney. And I trust her. I know she would never do anything to intentionally hurt me.

“The dragonfly,” I say, after a long moment of silence between us, “symbolizes change and the tree means growth. Because of the shift in our family dynamic, I became a lot closer to my older sister. Jenny was the one who encouraged me to lose weight so I could play in the youth hockey league down at the rec center. I had a hard time with the kids at school because of my weight, and Jenny was my only friend for a long time.”

Even over the water, I can hear Sydney crying. She really does love me. I squeeze her hands tighter against my stomach and continue.

“Then, I met Coach Tucker, and my entire life changed. He had given Jenny meal plans to help me eat better. She did her best to make them for us. My father hated everything Jenny cooked for me and threw the plates across the kitchen half the time. He was and still is a miserable piece of trash. He took all of his problems out on us.”

“Do you still talk to him?”

“No. Jenny still feels sorry for him and checks in on him once a month. When I first got drafted, he called me all the time. He tried to apologize for everything he had ever done. I was stupid enough to believe him in the beginning. Turns out, all he wanted from me was money. Between his drinking and gambling, we never had any money.”

“I’m so sorry, Carter. That sounds awful.”

“It was. Jenny had to get a job by the time she was a freshman in high school to make sure we had something to eat. After my dad had lost his job as the sheriff, he worked a bunch of odd jobs in town. But he could never stay sober long enough to keep any of them. Plus, it’s not as if people were dying to hire the town drunk. In a city that small, everyone knows your name. Jenny and I were the laughing stock of the city after our father had fallen from grace.”

She hugs me tighter. “So, hockey was the growth in your life. That’s how you were able to get away from him.”

“Yup. I turned eighteen mid-way through high school, and by the time I had graduated, I was already eligible for the draft.”

“That’s amazing, Carter. Your sister must be so proud of you.”

“You have no idea. Jenny is the reason I have a career. Heck, she’s the reason I’m still alive. Who knows what would have happened to me if I didn’t have Jenny. She’s my light, always has been.”

“The light to your darkness,” she mumbles, recalling the tattoo on my wrist.

I nod. “The dragon means strength. That’s why I got that one. It was to remind myself that I am strong even when I don’t think I have it in me. I had a lot of issues last season with my game being off. I needed some positive reinforcement.”

“How come you have an empty puzzle piece?” Her voice is so soft and quiet I almost have trouble hearing.

“I left that one blank because I haven’t figured out what to put there. But I think I have an idea of what would complete the puzzle.”

I peel her hands from my stomach and turn around the face her. She’s beautiful, naked, and soaking wet. The water splashes off her forehead and streams down her face.

How did I get this lucky? Why did I almost walk away from her for good?

“I’m not sure what should go there yet, but I have an idea of what I might do.”

“After all this sharing, don’t go holding out on me, big guy,” she says, with a smile.

“I really don’t know. When it comes to me, you’ll be the first to know. Until then, you’ll just have to wait and see.”

“What about your game? How can you fix it?”

“Luckily, Tyler figured out how it all started. You might not believe me, but I think doing what we just did helped me a little bit. Opening up to you and sharing this part of my life was not easy for me.”

“I know,” she says, softly. “But I’m glad you did. It means the world to me that you trust me with your secrets. I’m falling in love with you, Carter Donovan, and I will love you down to the darkest part of your soul.”

I get a little choked up by her confession, managing to suck down the emotions that consume me. “I think I’m falling for you, too, Princess. I don’t know how you managed to do it, but you melted the ice around my heart or at least chipped away at it piece by piece until you worked your way inside. You’re the first woman I ever felt this way about. I’m still trying to process all of this. I wasn’t even sure I loved you until you told me how you feel about me. All of this is foreign to me. Relationships and love are all new experiences.”

“Well, I’m glad we’re doing this together, big guy.”

She places her hand on my chest, and I dip down to kiss her lips, lifting her up in the process. “So am I.”

Sydney hooks her legs around my middle and digs her heels into my rear. Once our tongues collide, I’m so full of her love, consumed by her light, that I could kiss her all day without coming up for air. But the alarm clock blaring from her bedroom is a reminder that I have to get moving if I plan to get to practice on time. My coach has already been up my rear, and I don’t need to give him a reason to lay into me even more.

As our lips separate, I have trouble breathing. For once, Sydney has sucked all the air out the room but in a good way.

With our foreheads touching, Sydney whispers, “I love you, Carter. Let me be your light.”

“You already are. It just took me a lot longer to notice. I love you, too, baby. I love you so much. But I have to get to practice.”

She laughs. “Way to ruin the moment with hockey.”

“You’ll always come before hockey, just not today. Sorry if I messed up our moment.”

“I’ll be here when you get back, ready and waiting for my big guy.”

My face hurts from smiling so much. Sydney is everything I ever needed in my life. She’s the light to my dark and just soft enough to crack my hard exterior. And I love her. For the first time in my life, I am in love. It’s a good feeling.

Chapter 18

Sydney

Sitting in front of my computer, I chew on the tips of my nails, debating what I should do about the Carter and Sydney inspired book I’m supposed to publish within the year. I have no clue. Nothing has come to mind since Carter and I have gotten back together.

My editor has been up my rear almost every day for the outline that was due weeks ago. Still, nothing is percolating inside my head. I am nowhere near the point I should be at this stage in the process. While most things in the publishing world move like molasses, my publisher operates at a much faster pace. We’re at the point where even my editor’s boss is antsy and dying to get her hands on the story. But I have nothing to show.

Most days start in the same fashion as today. I wake up with Carter when he leaves for practice at the rear crack of dawn, except when he’s out of town for away games. Then, I go back to sleep for a few hours until he calls to pull me from my slumber, reminding me I need to work. Around noon, he’s done being hot hockey god, depending on the week. On occasion, he stays later to hang out with Tyler. Today must be one of those days because it’s well after lunchtime, and I haven’t heard a peep from him.

I fell hard for Carter. He’s the only constant in my life that makes sense anymore. Because of that, I cannot do this to him. I love him too much to jeopardize our relationship over this book. And I have plenty of money to hold me over that I don’t need to sell my soul to sell this book. At least I made my mind up.

After grinding my nails down to the skin, I decide to pick up the phone on my desk and call Carter. The new Sydney communicates without playing games. I want to be the woman that Carter deserves. If I tell him about the book and how our love story can help me break into a different market, maybe he will give me permission to write about us. But it’s not just my story, which is why I was so hesitant all along.

Holding the phone to my ear, my hand shakes. This entire conversation will be hell.

What do I even say? Oh, hey, big guy, I’m writing a book about our messed up lives is that cool with you?

No way Carter will go for this, which is why I have to confess. The sooner I get this off my chest the better. He deserves to know I pitched this idea to my editor, who hardcore freaked over it.

Carter answers the phone on the third ring. “Hey, Princess. What’s up? I’m just finishing my workout with the guys. We ran a little late today.”

“I was just checking in on you to make sure you’re coming over later.”

“Yeah, I’ll be there.” He sounds out of breath, as if he’s mid-workout as he speaks into the receiver. “I probably won’t be over until closer to dinner.”

“How about I make something for us?”

Cooking is not one of my strong suits, but I have to make some kind of effort if I want to approach him with such a sensitive subject. I hope he doesn’t get too pissed about it.

“That sounds good.” He grunts, followed by a long pause, before he continues, “Look, babe, I have to get going. We’re in the middle of doing this exercise that’s kicking my rear, and I need both hands to do it.”

Pussy, I hear Tyler say on the other end of the line. You lift like a girl.

“You hear this trash?” Carter chuckles. “I have to go take care of Kane’s punk rear. Later, babe.”

As soon as the line goes dead, Carter leaves me alone and with my thoughts. The nerves creep up the back of my throat, choking me, as I stare at the blank document on my computer screen. Wasting time behind this desk does no good for anyone. It’s time to figure out a special dinner for Carter and head to the grocery store. He will be here in the next few hours, hungry for more than food. I have to feed him and talk about the book before he feasts on my pussy. Because once we start, we end up spending our entire night in the bedroom.

* * *

I cooked lasagna for dinner. Or at least I attempted to make something that resembles Italian food. Kennedy said it would be easy, but apparently, I do not belong in the kitchen. Hovering over me, Carter laughs in my ear before bending down to pull me into his arms and kiss my forehead.

“Don’t laugh,” I say, hitting him on the arm with the oven mitt and frowning at the burnt baking dish. “I tried to make you something good.”

“I don’t care.” He tucks my head under his chin. “I’ll eat anything you make. You should have seen the trash Jenny made me when we were kids. We mostly lived off whatever food we could buy with food stamps and scraps she took home from the diner she worked at. I’m not a picky eater. Plus, who doesn’t love Italian soup.”

“It’s not soup, you idiot.” I stare up and into his eyes, shaking my head at him. “It was supposed to be lasagna.”

“Well, now it’s lasagna soup. Because you made it, I will love every bite of it.”

I let out a long sigh, disappointed in myself because I had wanted to show that I could be a good wifey someday. Not that we’re at that stage in our relationship yet, but still, I wanted to do this for Carter.

“I never learned how to cook. We didn’t even feed ourselves. My parents had nannies, maids, butlers, personal chefs, you name it, and we had it. They still live the same way as when I was younger.”

“I know, Princess. It’s okay. Little rich girls don’t learn how to be domestic.”

“But I would like to learn.” I close my eyes, sulking on the inside. “I want to be what you need, Carter.”

“You already are, babe. I don’t need you to wait on me or have dinner ready when I come home every night. You’re enough for me. You are all I need.” He grips me tighter, soaking me in his warmth.

Carter is so big and strong that when he holds me close, I’m consumed by him, filled with his love.

“You know, I think I love you a little more than I did five minutes ago.”

“Is that so?” His voice has a hint of excitement to it. “You could start by showing me how much you love me right now.”

A smile crosses my lips. “How do you suppose I do that, big guy?”

Taking my face in his big hands, Carter kisses me, slipping his tongue inside my mouth, making me forget about my ruined dinner. My nipples harden from his touch as he slides his hand inside my dress, his fingers pinching the tiny bud. A brush of heat spreads down my chest and throughout my body like wildfire.

Carter’s kisses send me over the edge, and as our lips separate, he continues planting them down my neck until he reaches my breasts. He lifts me up and sets me down on the table, opening my legs wider with his thigh. Hiking my dress up, he runs his hand up my leg and brings me closer to him. He already knows I’m not wearing panties, so there are no layers between us.

I’m already working on pulling out his cock when he leans forward, our timing so in sync that all it takes is a little guiding for him to be inside me once again.

“Carter,” I moan and lean back on my elbows, doing my best to move the plates I had set for dinner out of the way, as he idiots me.

He lifts my legs over his shoulders, his massive cock plunging deeper inside me. A chill rushes over me in waves, hardening my swollen nipples. I bite down on my lip, obscenities on the tip of my tongue because this feels so good as an orgasm rips through me.

As per the usual, Carter plows into me, both rough and aggressive, knocking a glass from the table in the process. It crashes against the tile, but the shattered glass doesn’t stop him. Nothing does. He’s a machine when it comes to sex.

My body convulses, tightening the grip I have on his cock. I scream so loud that I wonder if my neighbors will call the cops with the table banging, glass breaking, and Carter pounding me. I stare up at Carter and watch as he groans in pleasure along with me, finally collapsing on top of me. He lays his head on my stomach, the sweat from his forehead soaking my dress.

“I love you, Syd. My goodness, woman, I love you.”

“So much for dinner, huh?” I say with a smirk.

He winks. “Best dinner I ever had.”

We both laugh, and with Carter still inside me, his laughter shakes through me. I run my fingers through his sweat-glistened hair, taking in the sight of my man. The love of my life.

After Carter pulls out of me, our juices slide down my leg. There’s no way we’re eating dinner at this table now.

I stand up and press my palm to his chest, peeking up at him from beneath my lashes. “How about we get in the shower together, and after we’re done, I’ll order us a pizza. Sound good?”

He nods. “Sounds perfect.” Then, he surprises me by lifting me over his shoulder like a ragdoll and stalks toward the bedroom. His hand lands hard on my rear as he spanks me. “You’ve been a dirty girl. It’s time to clean you up.”

“Oh, baby!” I squeal with delight. “I’ve been a bad girl. I think you should punish me.”

I can see him smile as he sets me down on the floor in the master bathroom. “Don’t worry, Princess. You will be begging me to stop by the time I’m done with you.”

I’m so excited about our dirty shower sex that my pussy cheers at the promise of more. No matter how much I get, I can never get enough of Carter.

* * *

After another round of sex, I can hardly walk through my apartment without wincing in pain. Carter’s size is not something you adjust to overnight. Even after a few months, he still has the ability to wreck me from the inside out. And that shower sex was so dirty it should be illegal. Carter is a bad boy.

Lounging on the couch in Carter’s boxers and a tank top, I curl up next to him, soaking up his warmth as he wraps his arm around me. He’s like a big teddy bear when he acts this way with me. Despite his moments where he’s rough with me, he has this soft side to him outside the bedroom that I adore even more.

Carter left no room for me to talk about the book before dinner. With all the we were doing, I had no room to get a word in before he was taking control of my body. For whatever reason, Carter is watching a Flyers game from last season, pausing, and then rewinding the tape repeatedly. It’s annoying the heck out of me, but I want to stay on his good side.

We need to talk about the book and if he’d be okay with me writing some version of our love story. Stroking his arm with my fingers, I glance over at him and already have his attention.

“I need to tell you something,” I confess, nervous about his reaction.

“Like what?” He seems just as worried as I do.

“You know the games I played when we first met?”

He nods. “How could I forget? You gave me a never-ending case of blue balls.”

I laugh, adjusting my position on the couch. “Well, I kind of did something you might not like.”

“Stop being so cryptic, Syd, and just tell me already. What did you do?”

“I pitched a book idea to my editor about us.”

His face turns to stone, his body just as still. A beat passes between us before he looks human again, his chest rising and falling as he sucks in a deep breath. “Please tell me you didn’t write about my past. Please tell me you did not do that to me. To us.”

I shake my head, holding onto him for dear life. He’s shaking beneath me, his anger radiating off him in waves. “Of course not. I would never do that to you, which is why I couldn’t write the outline for my editor once I discovered your secrets. I always knew you were hiding something from me, but I had no idea what. In the beginning, I thought it would be fun to play with you, toy with your emotions. I know it was immature and stupid, and I regret doing it in the first place. But it also gave me this amazing book idea that my editor said he can sell to a wider market than what I have now.”

“You want to make money off my life? My life is not for sale, and yours shouldn’t be either.”

“That’s not what I’m saying. Just hear me out.”

He attempts to shake me off, but I jump on his lap and straddle him, pinning him in place with my thighs. Carter could move me with one hand in an instant. But he submits. Allowing me to run my fingers through his hair, he stares into my eyes.

“I love you, Carter Michael Donovan. You are my world now. My writing, the books, they don’t even compare to you. I thought that writing was the love of my life before you came along and put my rear in check. Do I regret messing with you in the beginning? Of course, I do. But I also think my childish behavior kept you interested long enough to realize this could work between us. You were never a one-woman kind of guy. Not until you met me.”

He smiles. “Did you just use my full name?”

“That’s all you got from what I just said?” I shake my head, laughing. “You stubborn rear.”

He strokes my jaw with his thumb, pulling my head toward him. Speaking against my lips, he says, “Tell me more about this book.”

Relief washes over me. I was so nervous I had been avoiding this conversation for weeks. “I changed the names, locations, and any details that would give anyone the impression the book is about us.”

“What’s my name in this book? What’s my story?”

“Well,” I say, planting a soft kiss on his lips. “It’s our love story, not just yours. Your name is Chuck and mine is Savannah. She’s a spoiled brat who plays games with Chuck just to get her way.”

“Sounds about right,” he says, laughing.

I roll my eyes at him, not entertained. “Chuck is a Wall Street guy from a small town who made it big. He has a dark past that he keeps hidden from Savannah, so her games work out for him until they get old, and he gets bored with her.”

“That’s not why I stopped talking to you,” he interjects. “I was never bored with you.”

I cock an eyebrow at him, confused. “No? Then, why did you walk away from me?”

“Because I wanted something more. After Tyler had told me about the baby, I knew it was time for me to grow up. It was kind of a wake up call for me. My best friend is having a baby and eventually getting married, and here I am off with you when you wouldn’t even let me forget you.”

“The same thing happened to me. After I had found out Kennedy was pregnant, I knew her life was forever changed. I was already losing my best friend with how much time Tyler and Kennedy were spending together. But a baby…The news made me sit down and reevaluate my life, except by the time I had done that, you would not even respond to my messages.”

“I needed time to think. You were killing me with all your rules and trash. I was through with it. I wanted you in my life without all the drama, and I honestly didn’t think you were capable of being with me without playing the game. You put me so far out of my comfort zone, and for some reason, I went along with it. I live a very controlled life. Everything I do is because I planned it out that way. Then, you come storming through the front door at Tyler’s house and take me by surprise. I had no idea this would ever be more than sex. That’s all I had wanted from you when we first met.”

“You don’t think I know that? The reason I play these games with men is that they see me and think I’m just something cute to dangle on their arms and idiot when they please. I’m never the girl they want to keep around. But I don’t want to be like my mother. She was a trophy wife for my father, nothing more. They have no relationship and nothing in common. The two of them spend more time apart than together, and I don’t want to live that way. I was testing you to see if you would hang in there long enough to claim your reward. It took you long enough, but you did.”

“And I haven’t looked back since,” he finishes, with a smile on his lips. Carter twists my curls between his fingers. “I love you, Sydney. I never thought I was capable of loving a woman until I met you.”

“I love you, too, big guy.” I hold onto his shoulder and lean forward to give him a quick peck on the lips. “Does that mean I have your permission to write this book?”

“Yes, but on one condition.”

“Anything,” I say, without hesitation.

“You cannot mention anything about my family or my past. Nothing personal.”

“I can do that. After all, I do write fiction for a living. I’m good at spinning the truth.”

“Fine. Then, you have my permission. You deserve all the success this book may bring you. I hope Chuck and Savannah’s book makes lots of money for you.”

I’m so excited I squeal. “You know, this little empire I am building is not just mine now. We are in this together. You can bet your rear you will be my muse for other books.”

He grins, amused. “How so?”

“Your cock is kind of big deal in romance novels. Every woman wants the bad boy with a big toe.”

“Good,” he says, gripping me up before flipping me onto my stomach, so that I’m laying across his lap. “Because I’m about to give it you.”

My rear cheek throbs when he smacks me. He’s not as hard, as usual, more of a tap than anything. But I’m still sore from earlier.

The corners of my mouth turn up into a wicked grin. “You’re a bad boy, Carter.”

He presses his lips to my ear. This time his voice is a whisper. “You’ve seen nothing yet, Princess.”

My ovaries do a happy dance, and my pussy is already wet and ready for more. Can I handle more? It doesn’t matter. Even though we stopped playing the old game, we somehow managed to come up with a new one. Carter is more in control now, but either way, we both win. And I’m playing for keeps.

Epilogue

Six months later

Carter

After thinking about the missing piece to my puzzle, I knew exactly what to get for my last tattoo. Scully, the same tattoo artist who I have trusted with my ink since I moved to Philly, adds the final touches and cleans me up before holding up a mirror so I can see the masterpiece. It’s finally complete. I often wondered if it would ever end with the last tile, or if I would keep going in search of more.

The day Sydney waltzed into my life and stole my heart changed my life forever. I am no longer the man I was before. While my bedroom habits haven’t changed much, Sydney has gotten used to my dominance and respects my need to have that order in my life. She loves it. I know she gets off on it, especially when I’m out of town for away games.

“I hope she likes it,” Scully says to me. He shakes my hand, and I get up from his chair, keeping my fingers crossed that Sydney will approve of my choice.

“I hope so, too.”

He walks me out to the front counter, where I expect to see Sydney, but the chair I left her in is vacant. No one is here except for the receptionist. I stroll up to the counter and wait for her to glance up at me.

“Have you seen the dark-haired woman that I came in with?”

“Uh-huh.” She points her finger at one of the closed doors of the shop. “She’s in room number two with Tate.”

“What for?” I am so confused.

“Getting inked, of course,” she says as if I asked her a dumb question.

“She wants you to wait out here for her. You can have a seat over there.” She tilts her head toward a row of chairs along the long window that looks out over the busy South Philly street.

“Okay. Thanks.”

Scully slaps a hand on my back and shakes my hand with the other. “All right, brother. I have another appointment. Come back and see me when you’re ready for you next one.”

I shake his hand. “Will do. Thanks again.”

I take a seat and flip through my cell phone as I wait. Sydney doesn’t have any tats, and I never got the impression she wanted one. She’s full of surprises.

After what feels like an hour, the door opens, and Sydney walks out, laughing with a middle-aged balding man with ink from his neck down to his knuckles. She seems so calm and at ease as if she frequents tattoo parlors all the time.

“Hey, big guy.” She holds out her cheek for me to give her a kiss, and I do. “I have a surprise for you.”

“I hope it’s the kind I like.”

She winks. “You know it.”

“Well, let me see,” I say, impatient.

“Not in here.” Sydney rubs her hand up my forearm. “When we get in the Hummer, I’ll show you. Calm down, my love.”

Clutching her hand, I drag her out the door, yelling thank you to Tate and the receptionist. At some point, I will be back. Hopefully, the next one will be to commemorate our team making it into the playoffs. Things are looking up this season now that Alex is engaged to Coach and no longer moping around like he did the last half of our season.

And I sorted out my trash. All it had taken was opening up to Sydney about my past before I was able to let go of it. The dark part of me is still there, and will probably never leave, but with Sydney, I found acceptance and the light I needed in my life.

By the time we get into the Hummer and shut the door, I’m already clawing at her shirt. “Take this off,” I command.

“How do you know where I got my tattoo? For all you know, it’s on my toe.”

I shake my head, smiling. “Because I know you well enough to know that you would want it out of sight so that your parents don’t have a stroke.”

Meeting Sydney’s family was interesting, to say the least. They are the most uppity people I have ever met, and the complete opposite of the type of people I know. The only time I ever meet elitists like that is when we’re dealing with sports team owners or investors. It was no surprise Sydney was such a brat when we first met. But that rebellious side of her was always there, desperate to break free from the mold.

Sydney removes her shirt, like the good, girl I taught her to be. With the dark tint on my windows, no one can see inside. I lick my lips as her breasts come spilling out of a lacy black bra. Deep breath, I tell myself. As much as I want to stick my toe between her belly, I cannot get hard when I want to have a serious conversation with Sydney about my tattoo.

I grip the seam of my t-shirt and tug it over my head, giving Sydney a good look at my chest. While I take my shirt off around her most of the time, she says it never gets old after I hid from her for so long. She’s become obsessed with touching my muscles and running her hands over my tattoos. I like when she does it, something I never would have expected before I met her.

Turning, so my back is facing her, I stare out the window and wait for her reaction. It doesn’t take long before she squeals with excitement.

“Oh, my goodness, Carter. You…”

As soon as I hear her crying, I shift in my seat, so I can look into her eyes, hold her hand, and tell her it’s okay. “Don’t cry, babe.” I stroke her skin with my thumb, trying to soothe her.

“You have my name on your back. Our names. And…” She chokes on her words.

“Inside the last puzzle piece, I had Scully draw an infinity symbol. You see how the words break up some of the lines?”

“Yes. On the top part of the loop, it says, She’s the light,” Sydney says, tracing it with her finger, “and at the bottom of the loop, to my darkness. It’s in script writing, just like the tat on your wrist.”

“Beneath the symbol, I had both of our names interlinked to show the two of us joining together.”

“I love it.” She wipes her tears with the back of her hand. “You made a perfect choice.”

Some people may think I’m crazy to get the name of the woman I have been with for less than a year inked on me, but I know what I have with Sydney is permanent.

I take her hand in mine and gaze into her big, blue eyes. “You were the missing piece to the puzzle. I was always searching for something, but I never knew what I was looking for until I found you.”

“I feel the same way, big guy. I love you.” Her voice softens to a whisper.

“I love you, too, Princess. You’re the best chance I’ve ever taken.” I rub her jaw with my thumb and bring her face closer to mine.

Our lips brush against each other, and her breath sends a chill through my body. This is what love feels like. And this is what it feels like to have a woman’s love.

“I can already tell by the look in your eye that you’re about to throw me in the backseat and idiot me senseless. But, before you do that, let me show you what I got for you.”

She unhooks her bra, the left strap sliding down her shoulder. Taking her good old time, I get impatient, and zone in on her belly, losing my train of thought. Sydney was right about wanting to plow her in the backseat. That’s happening the minute we finish our discussion. Once she lifts her arm up, I take in the semi colon tattoo she got inked on her ribcage.

“What does it mean?” I ask, confused.

“Since I’m a writer, I wanted to get something that was meaningful to me. But I also wanted it to represent our relationship. Do you understand the purpose of a semi colon?”

“Yeah, I guess. To break up two sentences, right?”

“A semi colon is used when a sentence could end but it doesn’t. It’s also the symbol of our love. It’s a reminder that our love could have ended with my stupid games and that by changing my ways, I found something real with you. I might be the light to your darkness, but you are my voice of reason, the one person who keeps me on track. You have shown me there are more important things in life than money and power. I had both of those things, and I wasn’t happy. Your love healed me, Carter, made me complete.”

“You did the same for me, baby. I was a broken shell of a man before I met you.”

“You were never broken. All you needed was someone you could be yourself with, someone who loves every part of you.”

I press my lips to hers, taking in her sweet scent as I slip my tongue into her mouth. There’s so much passion behind the kiss, animalistic and intense like me, yet soft and sweet like Sydney. She rocked my world the day she had become a permanent fixture in my life. Because of this woman, I am whole again, no longer the shell I once was. But we saved each other, healed each other with our love. There’s no one else I would rather have shine a light on my darkness. Sydney is the one.

* * *

There’s more to every story. Want to know what comes next for Sydney and Carter? Sign up HERE for the extended epilogue and never miss bonus content or updates for the Face-Off Series.

Jameson

PRE-ORDER JAMESON ON AMAZON

Available July 12th

If you liked Donovan, keep reading for a free excerpt of Jameson, the fourth book in the Face-Off series.

As the man-of-honor in the most anticipated sports wedding of the year, Jameson O’Connor has a problem. He needs a date. But his best friend, who is also the bride-to-be, keeps scaring them away. On accident.

Through the course of planning the bridal shower, shopping for wedding gowns, and hosting bachelorette parties, Jameson finally meets a girl who can hang. Or so he thinks. When he meets Regan Turner at a basketball game, Jameson has no idea she’s hockey royalty.

Because of her upbringing, Regan is through with hockey players and wants no part of them. She assumes Jameson is an athlete because of the company he keeps. But she likes him. And Jameson is persistent. He won’t take no for an answer.

Jameson likes the sporty blonde, wears her down with his charms, and Regan will be his date to the wedding. No matter how much convincing it takes to get her there.

Jameson Excerpt

Jameson

The hum of screaming fans fills the Wells Fargo Center as their cheers bring the event center to life. I get a certain high from being in this environment. But I also feel for Charlie. It reminds me of when she played college basketball for Villanova. Everything I had done or sacrificed to get her there we’d planned around Charlie making it pro until her dream was no longer a reality.

With our lives so intertwined, Charlie’s loss and the pain of her injury were also mine. The day I lifted her off the court and carried her in my arms was one of the most painful experiences of our lives. Luckily, Charlie had met Mickey Donoghue, the famous sports agent. He took her under his wing and gave her the career she has today. She healed on the outside, but I know the trauma of her injury will never go away, like a phantom pain that claws inside her chest.

I feel it, too. As I watch Charlie gaze out onto the basketball court, she sucks in a deep breath, her eyes focused on the players. I’m the only one who knows her well enough to understand the glaze in her eyes and the way she clears her throat to keep herself from breaking down. Basketball will always be her first love. Even Alex hasn’t picked up on her mannerisms. He doesn’t know Charlie the way I do.

“What do you think of the seats?” Charlie asks. “We got the hook up this time. I picked them just for you. Alex wanted a box, but I talked him out of it.”

I nod, unable to take my eyes off the game. “Good call.”

The Chicago Bulls are making the Sixers look like a high school basketball team, and I don’t want to miss a second of it. Charlie hooked us up with courtside seats for the Sixers-Bulls game. It doesn’t get much better than this. And having Rico come along with us only makes it that much sweeter.

“Are you trying to butter me up after a long day of doing women garbage?”

We spent the entire day shopping for Charlie’s wedding gown and doing girly things that I don’t even understand. Being the man-of-honor in Charlie’s wedding is still such a foreign concept to me. I have no idea what I’m supposed to do. Instead, I wait for the girls to tell me what’s next on the list.

“Maybe.” I glance over and see Charlie wink at me.

“Jamie,” Rico yells, tugging on my Michael Jordan jersey and diverting my attention. Yup, we wore our Jordan gear to a Sixers game. I guess we should be lucky we made it to our seats without being harassed. Philadelphia sports fans are a little…passionate, to say the least.

“Hey, buddy, stop messing with MJ,” I joke, rubbing my knuckles into his hair. “This is a collector’s item.”

Vintage Jordan is not easy to replace. Charlie already yelled at me for wearing it tonight. In retrospect, it was a bonehead move, but I got overly excited when I plucked it from my jersey collection.

As far as children are concerned, Rico is the closest to a son Charlie, or I will have anytime soon. Even with Alex and Charlie getting married, none of us are ready for a family yet. With how much Charlie travels for work and Alex for hockey, who would even watch the kid? Me? I’m good with Rico. He’s old enough to take care of himself, but I can give him back to his mother after we’re done hanging out.

“I’m hungry. Can we go get a soda and nachos?” Rico peeks up at me from beneath a chunk of dark brown hair, flashing those puppy dog eyes that make it impossible to say no.

“You just ate a hot dog, kiddo.”

“That was a snack. I want nachos. You promised I could get whatever I want since it’s Coach’s special day.”

I sigh, staring up at the game clock hanging from the ceiling at center court.

There are a few minutes left at the end of the fourth quarter. Even though there’s no way the Bulls could blow this lead, I don’t want to miss the final buzzer. Charlie brought everyone here tonight to celebrate her engagement to Alex Parker, which also added a few of his teammates and their girlfriends to the usual cast.

Kennedy is pregnant and looks about ready to pop any day now. Then, there’s Sydney, who says cock more than normal. I’ve never met a woman as vulgar until Sydney. She’s a romance author, so I guess that’s expected when she writes smutty stories all day.

Both girls provide their own form of entertainment when we’re out shopping for Charlie’s wedding gown. When I’m ready to gouge my eyes out, Sydney usually cracks a joke about monster cocks. Because it’s so uncommon to see a man in a bridal shop, I have a lot of women hitting on me until Charlie pretends I’m the groom and scares them. She always chases girls away.

At the rate she’s going, I will never find a date to the wedding. Any girl I introduce to Charlie has found an excuse to retreat after she gives them her motherly interrogation. No one is good enough for my Jamie, she would say. That’s also what I had told Charlie anytime I met a guy she was interested in dating. I suppose I acted the same way when Alex first showed up in our lives.

Like Alex, Tyler Kane and Carter Donovan mostly give me a hard time for being the man-of-honor. They laugh every chance they get. Sydney keeps telling me that I have to help her make penis cakes for the bachelorette party. That only gets more of a rise out of the guys who take so much joy in pissing me off. I can’t help it my best friend is a girl. Charlie is the only family I have left. She’s like a sister to me.

Now, we’re all one big happy family and part of the wedding party. True to Charlie style, she wanted to commemorate her engagement at a Bulls game. She’s not your average girl. But that’s one of the things I love about her. Plus, she spared me the task of planning an engagement party. Win-win for everyone.

“Jamie,” Rico whines, pulling on my arm to get my attention. “Please. I’m a growing boy. I need to eat.”

He’s too cute to resist. “Okay. Let’s go.” I turn to Charlie and tell her we’ll be back, hoping we can hurry up before the game ends.

Following Rico up the steps, we jog up to the top level, and sprint toward the concession stands. With the Sixers getting their rears handed to them, the halls are starting to crowd. People shuffle about, knocking into us as we pass. Once we reach the counter, I shake my head, disappointed. They either sold most of the food or put it away to close up for the night.

“I don’t think they have any more nachos, kiddo. Would you settle for soda and another hot dog?”

Rico folds his arm over his chest and pouts. “But I want nachos.”

“They’re all out.” I clamp my hand down on his shoulder and move him in front of me, so he can get a better look at what they have left. “You can have a hot dog, pretzel, or ice cream. Which one do you want?”

“I think I can help you out,” a woman says from behind me.

At first, I don’t realize she’s talking to me. Not until she strokes my arm with her fingers, commanding my attention. Her touch sends a chill through me. She smells sweet, like honey, and good enough to eat.

I spin around, holding onto Rico. The girl smiles so wide that it reaches up to her bright, blue eyes. Tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, she moves closer to me. She has a girl next-door look about her, but she’s also sporty, like Charlie, and is in full basketball gear, looking as though she just stepped off the court.

A girl that reminds me of Charlie is never a bad thing. She’s the coolest girl I have ever known. Despite being subpar at most sports, I’ve always loved them and continue to coach youth basketball with Charlie.

Beautiful beyond words, I have trouble coming up with anything decent to say as I take her in, thinking of all the dirty things I’d like to do with her mouth. Her lips part and her breath hitches. She’s about to say something when Rico breaks the silence.

“Nachos!” Rico demands.

I laugh, as does the girl in front of me. Her laughter is soft and feminine and like music to my ears.

“I can help you out with your nacho problem.” She holds out her hand for me to shake. And I do, mostly because I want an excuse to touch her. “I’m Regan, and you are…” She waits for me to stop acting like a moron and get my trash together.

“Jameson O’Connor. Jamie. My friends call me Jamie.” Wow! Real smooth, dude.

“I like Jameson better,” she says, grinning. “The name suits you.”

“Thanks.” I stuff my hands into my jean pockets. “Regan isn’t a name you hear very often either.”

“That’s my dad for you.” She chuckles to herself as if there’s a private joke behind her name. “How about you two handsome guys follow me, and I’ll get you those nachos.”

“Yay! Thank you!” Rico latches onto her by wrapping his arms around her stomach.

“Cute kid you have here,” she says, staring at me while patting Rico on the back.

“I don’t know about all that,” I deadpan. “Rico is a pain. You can keep him if you’d like.”

“Hey!” Rico finally unhooks himself from Regan to give me the stink eye. “Take it back.”

Hooking my arm around Rico, I walk down the long hallway next to Regan. “I’m kidding. I’d never give my buddy away.”

The crowds are getting heavier as we pass, and the buzzer still hasn’t sounded, which means we have time to get back to our seats. I hope. But I’m also unsure if I want to go back now that I have Regan’s company. After we loop around the corner, she stops in front of a different concession stand.

“Hey, Joe.” Regan waves to a balding man behind the counter. “Can I get two nachos and two Cokes for my new friends?” She winks at me as she says this.

She has a certain ease about her that reminds me of Charlie. You can be yourself around girls like them. Except, for some reason, she makes me nervous. I think of asking her out as we wait for Joe to fill the plastic containers with cheese. What if she shoots me down? Not that it would matter. It’s not like we would see each other again otherwise.

Joe hands the nachos to Rico first, and then, the other set to me. Regan takes a chip from my tray, dunks it into the cheese, and shoves it into her mouth with her eyes trained on me. We share a moment. With me focusing on her mouth as she chews, it takes me a second before I realize Joe is trying to get my attention to hand me a bottle of soda.

“Thank you.” I lift the soda from the counter and hold it up in acknowledgment. Then, I turn to Regan, who has stolen another chip from me. “How is it that you have the hook up around here?”

“I know a guy who knows a guy,” she deadpans, laughing to herself.

“What are you doing this weekend?”

I’m usually not so forward with women. My question surprises me just as much as Regan. I like to check women out, make sure they’re not crazy or up to Charlie’s standards before I ask them out on a date. But I feel at ease with Regan. Plus, she didn't even know me and went out of her way to get Rico food. The least I can do is return the favor and buy her a decent meal that doesn’t consist of processed cheese and corn chips.

“Umm…nothing much. Are you asking me out, Jameson O’Connor?” She inches closer to me and the tension between us is burning like a lit match.

“Yeah, I suppose I am asking you out. So, what do you say? Wanna have dinner with me on Saturday night?”

She holds her finger up to her lip, pretending to think it over. The wait is killing me. Say yes already.

Before she can respond, I hear Alex call out, “There’s the man-of-honor. We’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

I was so caught up in Regan and getting Rico his nachos that I’d forgotten about the game. How is it I didn’t even notice the buzzer go off, only the people tearing through the halls in a rush to get out of the building?

“I’m right here,” I say, annoyed.

Our entire wedding party follows behind Alex, including Charlie, who has a strange look on her face. She seems confused, but I have no idea why.

Coming up next to me, Charlie does something I least expect when she locks onto Regan. She hugs her as if they have known each other for years.

“How are you?” Charlie asks, taking a step back from Regan and stands next to me. “It’s been months, maybe even longer, since I last saw you. Is your dad keeping you busy?”

Regan shrugs. “You know my dad.”

Alex glances at me, confused, and then, back to Regan. “What are you doing out here with Jamie? How do you guys know each other?”

“We don’t,” I interject before she can respond. “They were out of nachos at the concession by our seats, and Regan helped us out.”

“Mind your own business, Parker.” Regan’s tone is playful. She speaks to him as if she’s good friends with Alex.

Who is this chick?

“Oh, shoot,” Tyler says, stealing the show with his dominance as he moves through the crowd to get to Regan. “Are you gonna tell your dad we’re up to no good again?”

Regan blushes, looking away from him and to me. She holds my gaze for a few seconds before rolling her eyes at Tyler. “Will you ever let me live that down, Kane? I was a kid back then.”

“You’re not a kid anymore,” he jokes, and that earns him an elbow to the biceps from Regan.

“Shut it, Kane, before I shut it for you.”

After Carter and Sydney exchange their pleasantries with Regan, I start to feel left out of this conversation. Everyone seems to know Regan except for me. And she never had the chance to answer my question.

“So, you’re with Coach,” Regan says to me. “I had no idea.”

“Why? Would you have treated me differently if I you had known?”

She nods. “Yes, actually, I would have.”

“Meaning?” I ask, hoping she will elaborate.

“I was about to say yes…but now…” Her voice trails off, leaving me even more confused by the conversation. What has changed since Charlie and the gang had to show up and ruin everything?

“I don’t mix business with pleasure. Sorry.” She gives my arm a pity stroke that sets my skin on fire. Why is she sorry?

Regan flashes a tiny small before saying her goodbye’s to everyone in our group, including me. “It was nice meeting you, Jameson.”

“Wait.” I grab her forearm as she walks away. “You never answered my question.”

A sullen expression crosses her face. “Under different circumstances, I would’ve said yes to you in a heartbeat.”

“What circumstances?” I ask, bewildered.

“I can’t get mixed up in my father’s business. Sorry. It’s just not a good idea. But I’m glad we met. Come by and see me sometime. I'll make sure you have nachos for the next game.”

Without giving me time to interject, she waves over her shoulder at me, falling in line with the rest of the crowd, as she strolls down the hall.

Charlie leans close and whispers into my ear. “Did you ask Regan out?”

I frown. “Yeah, but she shot me down.”

“She doesn’t date athletes.”

“But I’m not an athlete,” I counter.

Charlie shrugs. “Yeah, but I bet she thinks you are one just by association with me.”

“Why would she think I’m one of your players?” I stare down at my clothes. I’m built, but nowhere near the kind of conditioning that screams professional athlete.

“You’re in much better shape that you realize, Jamie.” She acts nonchalant. “It’s probably for the best. If things didn’t work out for you, it would mess up my relationship with her father, and I can’t have that.”

“Who is her father?” The question of the hour.

“Mike Turner.”

It takes me a minute to recognize the name. “Her dad is the Mike Turner?”

“The one and only,” Charlotte says.

I scratch the stubble on my chin, trying to process the news. Mike Turner is the general manager for the Flyers, a hall of famer, and one of the most legendary hockey players to step onto the ice. “I guess that makes her like hockey royalty.”

Charlie nods. “Yup, which also makes her off-limits to you.”

A challenge. Knowing that Charlie wants me to stay away only makes me want to pursue Regan even more. I also want to change her mind and make Regan see that I am not like my friends.

* * *

PRE-ORDER JAMESON ON AMAZON

Available July 12th

Parker

If you haven’t read the rest of the Face-Off Series, keep reading for a free excerpt of Parker, the first book in the series.

Parker is available now!

Read PARKER for FREE with Kindle Unlimited.

Meet Alex Parker, the NHL’s most notorious bad boy both on and off the ice.

As the top defenseman in the league, Alex was on a winning team, so close to the Stanley Cup, before he hooked up with the wrong puck bunny—the team owner’s granddaughter. Oops! So, they sent him packing to Philadelphia to play for the Flyers, one of the worst teams in the league.

His agent wants him to clean up his act. He drinks too much. He sleeps around too much. That’s why his agent assigns Charlotte Coachman, aka Coach, to whip him into shape. Coach is a sexy sports agent that challenges him, makes him want to become a better man, and every time they are around each other, it's as if they're having their own face-off.

After Coach takes him under her wing, Alex wants her all to himself. She has strict rules about dating clients, and he likes breaking them.

Parker Excerpt

Chapter One

ALEX

Most people hate the loud, obnoxious noise a hockey goal horn makes, but I’m not one of those people. Because that means my team has scored and is one step closer to another victory.

But, this morning, the sweet sound I associate with winning wakes me from a drunken sleep, and for the third time this year, I know the person on the other end of the line is calling with bad news. I lift my head from the pillow, one eye open, as I reach for my cell phone on the bedside table.

Except I’m not in my bedroom. This is not my apartment.

Where am I?

I spot a pink fuzzy robe draped over the closet door, reminding me of something a child would wear. A Harry Potter poster is on the wall above a small desk with a computer, a schoolbag slung over the top of the chair. The room is about the size of a dorm room.

No, this can’t be happening.

When I roll onto my back and sit up, I lean against the headboard, my legs too long for the twin-size bed, and see a naked blonde sleeping next to me. Her arm covers her face, so I can’t tell if I chose well before we left the bar last night. The entire evening is a blur.

Please don’t be a dorm room.

She stirs, a sound escaping her lips.

I silence the ringer on my phone and sigh when I see that it’s my agent calling. This is not good. Answering his call will only confirm that my future with the Washington Capitals is over.

I banged the wrong chick—and not the one next to me.

How was I supposed to know that smoking-hot puck bunny was the granddaughter of the wrinkly old idiot in charge of my paycheck?

I have to man up and face reality, so I return my agent’s call, praying that the owner has granted me a reprieve after another phenomenal season. I think I’ve earned that much. We’re first in our division, and we have the best penalty kill record in the league, thanks to me.

“Hey, Mick,” I say, my hand shaking as I hold the phone to my ear. “Let me—”

Before I can finish my thought, Mickey Donoghue—also known in the sports agent world as Mick the Dick—screams, “Pack your bags, jerk off; you’re going to Philadelphia. Don’t harass this up, you understand? This is your last chance!”

I sit up straight, my heart pounding out of my chest, unable to process his words. The Philadelphia Flyers are not the worst team in the league, but they’re not the best either. I worked my rear off to make my team worthy of the playoffs. We almost won the Stanley Cup last year. Starting over with a young team is not ideal. In fact, it’s trash.

After eight years in the league, I should have my pick of teams. But, after my last idiot, I lost some of my sponsors and was lucky that Mick was enough of a toe to keep me in Washington, DC. The team refused to sign me with a no-trade clause because of my past indiscretions, which meant I had no choice in where they wanted to send me.

“Can I just meet with the owner? Let me explain to him that it was all a misunderstanding.” I had a good relationship with the owner of the team before the scandal, before I banged his granddaughter in an elevator at The Ritz-Carlton. “Mick, I thought—”

“No, you don’t think, kid. That’s your problem. You let the wrong head do the thinking for you, and the result is the same every time. Look, you’ve got a lot of talent. I know your father wouldn’t have wanted this for you.”

He’s right about that. My dad would crawl out of his grave just to kick my rear if he knew what I had become since his death. A lot can happen in six months. I screwed up worse than normal, and now, I have to sack up and head to Philly to play for one of the last teams I would’ve ever chosen.

“Alex,” Mickey breathes into the receiver, “you’re my godson, and you have been with me since the start of your career. Your old man was a good guy, a talented player, and an even better coach. He was my closest friend, and because we’re like family, I try to look out for you and your best interests, as if you were my own son.”

“I know. I appreciate everything you’ve done, but you—”

I can almost see Mickey on the other end of the line, holding up his hand to silence me, cutting me off. “Think of this as a chance to start over with a less experienced team that can use your skill set. You can teach these young guys. With a lot of patience and time, you can build this team up and help them get into the playoffs.”

I don’t want to be someone’s mentor. I want to win the Stanley Cup.

A brief moment of silence passes between us before Mickey clears his throat, snapping me out of my daze. My head is pounding, as if it has its own pulse, and the foul taste in my mouth makes me want to vomit. I want to drink myself into oblivion at the thought of leaving my team. But I don’t have a choice.

“When do I leave for Philly?”

“You have to report for practice at the Flyers Skate Zone in Voorhees, New Jersey at the end of the week. I rented you an apartment, about thirty minutes away in Philly, from an agent who owns a few properties on the waterfront. I’ll text you the address. After we hang up, my office will give you a call to work out the details, and I’ll make sure someone is at the apartment to meet you with the keys. Since you already live like a drifter, I doubt you have much to pack, but I arranged for a moving company to help you with your transition. The movers will be at your apartment at nine a.m. tomorrow. Make sure you’re awake. No more trash, Alex. You’re twenty-seven years old. It’s time to grow up and act like an adult.”

The girl next to me removes her hand from her face, and I slide off the bed, holding on to the table next to me for support.

“Thanks, Mick,” I say, somewhat panicked. “I gotta go. I’ll call you later.”

“Hi,” the girl says in a playful tone.

She looks about as old as she sounds, which isn’t very comforting, though I can see why I took her to bed. She has legs for days and perky belly.

“What’s the rush, Alex?” She pushes her blonde strands behind her ear and bites down on her bottom lip.

I’m standing naked in front of this girl, contemplating whether I want to make use of those nice full lips, until she says, “We have time. My roommate won’t be home until later.”

That’s when I look at the other side of the room and see the same twin-size bed with a computer desk and chest of drawers, confirming I am in a dorm room.

Idiot!

I start to look for my clothes as I say to the girl, “How old are you?” I hold my breath, hoping that she’s not jailbait. The last thing I need is another scandal.

“I’ll be nineteen in a few weeks, remember? You told me last night that you would come to my birthday party and bring some of your teammates.”

I have to stop drinking.

I shake my head, relieved that she’s legal. “Sorry, but that’s not going to happen. I won’t be here in a few weeks. This was a mistake. Forget that I was ever here.”

I find my fitted gray shirt on the floor in front of her computer desk along with my boxer briefs, jeans, and sneakers. After dressing faster than I thought possible, I fix my shaggy brown hair, looking in the mirror next to her closet, and reach for the entrance door, about to escape this disaster, when something soft hits me on the back of the head. A pillow falls on the floor next to my shoe. When I look over my shoulder, the naked girl is holding up both of her middle fingers.

“Go to perdition, Alex! Get the heck out of my room!”

“Don’t need to tell me twice,” I mumble as I open the door with a wave in her direction before closing it behind me.

I feel a bit of relief until it hits me that I’m on a college campus, and I’m standing in a crowded hallway full of young girls. Based on their surprised looks, some of them know who I am. This is an all-time low.

Disgusted with myself, I keep my eyes pointed toward the floor until I get outside, avoiding the stares from those around me. I sift through the throng, all while dodging young girls who want me and boys who are whispering my name. Some of them have their cell phones aimed in my direction.

This is just my luck.

“Is that Alex Parker?” a boy says, his finger pointing at me as I walk past.

“Can’t be,” says another boy.

“I heard he messed Jason’s girlfriend.”

“I heard he harassed this chick in my Bio class.”

Bad news travels fast.

At twenty-seven years old, I never thought I’d be doing the walk of shame out of a college dormitory. I also never thought I would destroy my career with a one-night stand in an elevator.

Once I make it through the herd, I glance up at the six-story building, my hand pressing to my forehead to shield my eyes from the sunlight.

Where am I?

The amount of students flowing in and out of the place, some of them staring at me with curiosity, makes me want to bolt off this campus. But my head and body are throbbing in unison, and whatever strength I might’ve had today was probably spent on the girl I just ditched.

I take a seat on a ledge to my right, blocking the sun from my face, as I pull my phone from my pocket. Using the GPS on my phone, I zoom in to get a better look at the streets and realize I am at Georgetown University. At least I know where I am. The who and the why are the parts of last night I am missing.

I can’t believe this is happening.

I tap my location and details into the Uber app and wait, praying they will be on time.

A large group—six boys and seven girls, all varying heights, skin tones, and builds—stops when one boy with spiked blond hair comes to a halt about twenty feet from me and points in my direction.

He slaps the husky dark-haired guy next to him on the arm. “Incredible, man, look.” His voice is so loud, it carries through the air.

His friend’s eyes flicker with acknowledgment, a wide grin forming. They stroll toward me, the clear leaders of their group, judging by the way the rest of them follow behind.

I could walk away, but what difference would that make? It’s not like I don’t have fans coming up to me for autographs all the time. And I’m not one of those jerk players who refuses to give them out. But I can’t let them know why I’m here.

How do I explain this? Uh, I was just boning some chick who lives here. Didn’t catch her name. The papers would love that.

Flanked by his companions and looking like a complete douche, the blond fixes his collared pastel shirt and tilts his head up at me in some lame attempt to look cool. “You Alex Parker?”

“Yep, that’s me.”

“I thought so,” he says, pleased. “You’ve been all over the news today. Everyone on campus has been talking about you.”

“Yeah, I got traded to Philly.”

His interrogation annoys me. Just ask me to sign something already and move on.

I stand when I see the car pulling up to the curb behind them. The blond opens his mouth wide enough to catch flies. He’s at least six inches shorter than me, and he must weigh about eighty pounds less, except I’m solid muscle and he’s nothing but a sack of bones. A few of the girls giggle and flash bright smiles, their lips parting as I wink at them.

He laughs as he pushes his cell phone in front of me and then hits the play button. “Nah, that’s not what everyone is talking about.”

I glance down at the screen, shocked by the video of me carrying two half-naked girls over my shoulders and into the dormitory. “Incredible,” I mutter.

In the video, it’s dark outside, but there’s enough light from the exterior of the building to see all our faces perfectly. Neither of them is the same girl I woke up next to. One has long auburn hair and killer curves, and the other is a smoking-hot chick with short dark hair and huge belly.

What. The. Idiot?

This must’ve been all the team owner needed to make his decision about the trade. He had already been adamant about getting rid of me after his granddaughter, who’d lied about her age, went blabbing her mouth, and this footage probably sent him over the edge.

“You’re my hero, bro,” the husky boy says. “How many chicks did you bag last night? Seriously, teach me your ways. I’m a fast learner.”

I don’t remember the girls or how I ended up here. Was I drugged?

That’s doubtful but not completely off base. Some chicks will do anything to become a famous athlete’s baby mama. I must’ve blacked out. That happens a lot—more times than I care to admit.

I smirk and ignore his question. “My ride is here. Gotta go.”

Sidestepping around them, I inch my way through the crowd and hop into the car, thankful it showed up on time. A few more minutes with those guys, and I would’ve had to deal with the grand inquisition about last night. I give the driver my address, and he sets off toward the apartment I share with my former teammates—former being the operative word as of twenty minutes ago.

My phone rings, the sound of a hockey goal horn filling the silent air in the car. The driver jumps at the intrusion and presses his hand to his chest. It’s an abrupt ringtone, but it does the job when I’m too trash-faced or in a drunken coma and need to be woken up. I already knew this call was coming, and when I see that it’s my publicist, Rebecca Stone, I have to answer.

“Hey, sweetheart. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Pleasure?” she screams. “No, this is not a pleasure, Alex! What is wrong with you?” A beat passes between us, and then she continues, “Have you seen YouTube yet? Better yet, have you seen the news? They’re calling this one Puck of Shame. You really dug yourself a grave this time. I’m done. I can’t help you anymore. You’re—”

I interrupt, trying to keep my cool as she lays into me, “What do you mean, you’re done? You’re done when I say you’re done. You work for me.”

Rebecca laughs, and it’s a cackle that reminds me of the Wicked Witch. “I work for you because you pay me, you little prick. You need to find yourself a new publicist. I don’t get paid enough for this trash.” She groans and slams something down that makes a crashing sound. “I’m over here, breaking out in stress hives from you and this trash you pulled at that campus. Of all the schools, you had to pick one as prestigious as Georgetown? You’re lucky the dean wants this to go away as much as the rest of us. After this, there’s nothing I can do for you.”

“Yes, there is. You can do your job, Becs.”

“I want triple my normal fee. No one will touch you with a ten-foot pole. You’re a PR nightmare!”

There’s no sense in denying the truth. I’ve been driving her crazy for the past year. On one occasion, I even tried to seduce Rebecca to keep her on my team, thinking that a cougar like her wouldn’t turn down a young hockey star. That plan backfired and was more embarrassing for me than it was for her.

“Fine,” I agree. “Whatever you want.”

“You need to get some help, Alex. I’m telling you this as a friend and not as your publicist. I know you haven’t taken your father’s death well, and I don’t blame you, but you need to clean up your act. Even with my connections, there’s only so much I can do for you. At some point, you’re going to have to help yourself.”

“Thanks, Becs.” I pause and hold the phone away from my ear to check the caller ID, showing an incoming call from DMG—Donoghue Media Group, the company Mickey founded after college. What now? “Look, I gotta go. Mickey’s on the other line. I owe you one.”

“You owe me more than one,” she says before ending the call.

If there’s one thing she’s right about, it’s that I need to get back on track. A midseason trade to Philadelphia should be a wake-up call. Instead, it’s making me want a drink.

PARKER is available now!

Read PARKER for FREE with Kindle Unlimited.

Kane

If you liked Parker, keep reading for a free excerpt of Kane, the second book in the Face-Off series.

Kane is available now!

Read KANE for FREE with Kindle Unlimited.

As the captain of the Philadelphia Flyers, Tyler Kane has an ego the size of his hockey stick. He’s hot as puck, outscores all the centers in the league, and can get any girl he wants. Except the girl he wants is off-limits, a constant reminder of the bad decisions he made in the past. Until he meets Kennedy Lockwood, a feisty sports reporter that challenges Tyler and forces him out of his comfort zone.

He should leave her alone and spare her the drama that comes with his life outside the rink. But she insists there’s more to his story, wants to crack the ice around his heart and expose his secrets in the process. When Tyler agrees to an exclusive interview with Kennedy, he had every intention for it to end with smoking hot sex.

But he didn’t realize the sexy blonde who writes about hockey players and their big sticks would be the one to hit him the hardest.

Kane Excerpt

CHAPTER ONE

Kennedy

Everyone has a ritual. Today was no different from yesterday or any day before that, apart from the interview I had with the Capitals. For a no name sports reporter like me, that was a huge score, a chance to help build my paper into a more reputable source for sports news.

After a long drive back from DC to Philly, I walk through the door and throw my messenger bag onto the dining room table. Per the usual, I unhook my bra next and fling it onto the couch. My girls hate boob jail, and it has been a long rear day.

Feeling free, I head into the kitchen of the one bedroom apartment I moved into last month. The paint on the cabinets is cracked and peeling. And if you look close enough at the floor, the linoleum tiles are coming loose. I found the place on Craig’s List. It was one of those looks better in the picture type of deals. Everything seemed fine at first. Until I unpacked, and then the appliances and fixtures started showing their age.

The only thing that works right is the coffee maker. And that’s because I brought it with me from home. Everything else is on its last leg or unsalvageable. Even the hot water lasts for about two minutes before it turns ice cold, leaving me screaming out in pain.

After I add the filter and grounds to the coffee maker, I hit a few buttons until it starts brewing. Then, I walk into my bedroom to change into a pink tank top and boy shorts. I live alone, the cramped space just enough room to house my stuff.

While I grew up in a huge house, I prefer the comfort this small apartment provides me, but I wish it were in a better neighborhood. My dad would kill me if he knew I was living in this building or on this side of the city. I lie to my father and tell him I live in Center City, up in a high-rise building I cannot afford just so I can avoid the same conversation we have every week. Crooks squandered our family fortune, and my dad had a hand in that. Now, I am stuck living in this dumpy apartment, living off leftover takeout and coffee.

I stir cream and two sugars into my mug and head straight to my desk. My dining room doubles as a makeshift office with little space away from the living room. In an apartment this size, the rooms bleed into the other. There’s no difference between them other than the chandelier that hangs from the ceiling and over my dining room table.

I have a view of the street through the window in front of me though I’m not so sure it’s the kind of view anyone would want. Even in the darkness, the street is depressing, rundown and full of dilapidated rowhouses.

After I settle into my chair, I call my best friend, Sydney Carroway. My daily habits always remain the same and calling Sydney as I sit down to work is one of them.

I punch the speed dial on my keypad, and Sydney answers on the first ring.

“I need another word for cock,” Sydney says into the receiver, her tone serious.

What may appear to someone on the outside as one of the weirdest conversations of their life is in fact just an average day with my best friend.

I chuckle and switch my cell phone to my left ear, attempting to open my beat up Macbook to type up my notes from the interview. “You’re such a perv, Syd…but a lovable one.”

“Don’t laugh.” Her voice squeaks on the other end of the line. “It’s for research purposes.”

“Writing smut,” I deadpan.

“Hey, that smut pays the bills, baby!”

Sydney is a romance author and my co-blogger at Long Sticks and Hard Shots, the sport- themed sex advice blog we write together. I talk about my experiences with professional hockey players and love of their sticks. Sydney uses her way with words and obsession with sex to make our readers swoon.

Bizarre conversations are par for the course. After all, she writes romance for a living and has her brain conditioned to write sex all day. Conversations that are sexual in nature are expected and often welcomed when it comes to Sydney. She has a way of talking about topics that would make most people uncomfortable. Somehow, she finds a way to get our readers to open up and interact.

“Maybe you should poll our followers to see how many words for cock they can come up with. I don’t have the time to sit here and ramble off all the naughty words your skanky brain wants to hear. Some people have to work for a living.”

“I might have to reevaluate our friendship,” she jokes, breathing hard into the phone. “What happened to ovaries before brovaries? We’re a team, and those hockey dudes can wait.”

I roll my eyes, a smirk forming. “I work with more than hockey players. I just happen to prefer the sport best.” Knowing she will never let me get off the phone without answering her question, I sit back in my chair and stop typing for a second. “Fine. I’ll start you off, but then I have to get back to work. Unlike you, it takes me more than twenty minutes to write a good story.”

“I’ll have you know that it takes me more than twenty minutes to write a story. I pour my heart and soul into those raunchy taboo novels.”

“True.” I take a sip from the oversized coffee mug that says I’m Smutty and I Know It. This is one of the many strange gifts Sydney has given to me over the years. It even has a pink lipstick smudge through the center of the mug. “But just because I’m the owner doesn’t mean I can take the day off, now does it? I’m barely keeping this paper afloat after everything that has happened with my father’s company.”

“Yeah, babe, sorry about all that. I’m sure things will turn around for you soon. You just need to get your foot in the door with the right people.”

“Easy for you to say. You write a book, and it sells ten thousand copies in one week.”

She laughs. “What can I say? Sex sells. I have to give my readers what they want.”

I glance at the clock on the wall in front of me, one of the few things that work in this place other than the coffee pot. “I need to make this deadline, so maybe we can talk about cocks later.”

She huffs, pretending to be annoyed, a tactic she uses every time I want to get off the phone, and she still wants to chat my ear off. “You own Sports Buzz. It’s not like you have to kill yourself to make it to print, and besides, it’s an online newspaper.”

“I’m the owner, but my bank account says otherwise.” That much is true. If I don’t land a few more interviews for the month, I will have to tap into what’s left of my savings. I haven’t made a cent from the paper, still hanging on by a thread.

The call waiting beeps in my ear. I glance down and see a local 215 area code, unsure if I want to pickup at this hour. But what if it’s work related. I cannot afford to pass on a story.

“Hey, Syd, I have to take this call.”

“Oh, shoot.” She grunts in mock irritation. “You’re just trying to get rid of me because you don’t want to answer my question.”

“No, I am not. Look, I will call you back later. I promise.”

“But I’m stuck on this scene and need your help,” she whines. “I need another word for cock. You can only use the same words so many times before they all start to sound the same. So, will you help me with this scene or not? I am so close to finishing up Nate and Ashlyn’s story, and I need the Kennedy touch to do it.”

Sydney does this every time she’s on a tight deadline with her editor. “A guy and girl meet, they have hot sex, they fall in love. The end. There you go. Write that.”

“Blah! That sucks! Thank goodness you don’t write romance novels. You’re awful at this.”

The other line stops ringing since Sydney keeps jabbering on and will not let me go. But whoever is calling is persistent, because another call beeps in my ear, and this time I have every intention of answering.

“I promise I’ll call you back in a little bit. We have to talk about the next few blog topics, and I’m sure you have better things to do. Like, figure out five different ways to write about men who make your ovaries explode.”

“Baha! Fine, go back to being an adult. Later, K.”

I switch over to the other line before the caller hangs up again and get my pen and notepad ready. “This is Kennedy Lockwood.”

“Hi, Kennedy,” he says, his voice thick and modulated. “This is Alex Parker. We met in the locker room at the Wells Fargo Center a while back. You gave me your card and said to call if I found something news worthy.”

I am relieved but a little nervous for this call. Maybe I can get an exclusive interview with the former King of Scandals. That would help rake in a few bucks to keep Sports Buzz afloat for at least another month before having to dump more cash into this sinking ship.

“Of course. What can I do for you, Alex?” I keep my tone calm and cheerful, hoping he has something big for me to write about.

“I know Charlotte Coachman has you keeping tabs on me. She admitted it to me last night.” He laughs into the phone. “My girls is protective of me.”

Hello, awkwardville.

“I’m not sure what you want me to say, Alex.”

A few beats pass between us before he says, “I have a story for you. I was hoping you were available tomorrow afternoon.”

“What kind of story? About you?”

“Yes…sort of. Charlotte is co-hosting a Youth Basketball Skills Clinic with Philly Clean to raise money for drug awareness and research. But I plan to surprise her at the event.”

Sinking my elbow into the refinished wood, I prop myself up while holding the phone to my ear and start scribbling notes about Charlotte and the event. “Surprise her how? Charity events like hers are news worthy, but I’m not so sure how I would fit in. You can try the Philadelphia Inquirer or the Northeast Times.”

“No, I think you are perfect for the job. Sports Buzz is the only paper that hasn’t trashed me, and I know you have an understanding with Charlotte. She seems to like you. I’m sure you already know her boss and my godfather, Mickey Donoghue, kept us apart for months, all because of his no dating clients rule. Well, I found a way around his rules, and I’m getting my girl back. For once, I want someone to write an article about me being decent and not another scandal. Plus, it will give her clinic and the charity exposure. It’s a win-win for everyone.”

I knew Charlotte, aka Coach, had it bad for Alex after she had asked me to tail him and make sure he was staying out of trouble. But I had no idea they were so serious. I assumed she was asking as his agent, which is not unheard of when it comes to star players. Alex Parker is the King of Scandals in the hockey world—or at least he was before he met Coach. The last incident involving Alex the news outlets named Puck of Shame, and he sure earned that reputation.

But, if there’s one thing I have learned from Sydney, it’s that even smutty books have a happy ending. “Sure, I’d love to help you, Alex. When and where is the event?”

He breathes into the phone, sounding relieved. “Thank you, Kennedy. The Skills Clinic starts tomorrow morning at the event center on the Strickland University campus. I was planning to surprise Charlotte in the afternoon, but if you can meet with my teammates, Tyler Kane and Carter Donovan, beforehand, that would be great. They’re helping me organize everything with Charlotte’s clients. I’ll give them your phone number if that’s okay.”

Tyler Kane is the star center for the Philadelphia Flyers. He’s also the highest paid player in the NHL with the ego and looks to match. He’s a mega babe—short blond hair, sun-kissed skin, and wide blue eyes that jump off his face during every interview. I have a slight crush on him from watching him play. He sure knows how to tear it up on the ice, which makes me wonder what he’d be like in the bedroom.

And Carter Donovan is nothing to sneeze at. He’s bigger, more toned and taller than Tyler Kane, but he oozes just as much sex appeal with his scruffy dark beard and rugged good looks. For most of the season, he’s been sporting the lumberjack look that a lot of guys do because of superstition though I have never understood that tactic.

Alex is new to the team, but I have a serious fangirl, freak out moment knowing that Alex wants me to meet with his teammates. I’m dying on the inside, so excited I have trouble forming actual words for a minute.

“Yeah, that works for me.” My voice is level and calm, unlike how I feel on the inside. “Just have Donovan or Kane call me to setup a time for us to meet.”

I squeal on the inside with delight, the prospect of one of them calling me too much to handle after such a long day on the road. And to think I almost missed the chance because of Sydney blabbing about cocks.

“And just so you know, Charlotte’s entire client list will be there. You can have all-access exclusives with whoever you want.”

Some players are near impossible to get within a five-foot radius. I have been dying to get an interview with NBA hotshot Dante Fisher, for over a year. Even after helping Coach out with Alex, I still haven’t been able to touch him. It also doesn’t help that he plays for the Chicago Bulls and is only in town a few times per year. I sure can’t afford to fly out there just to stalk him. The opportunity Alex is giving me is like hitting the sports lottery.

“Count me in.” The childlike excitement is evident in my voice.

“Great. Thank for doing this, Kennedy. Well, I better let you go. It’s Friday night, and I’m sure you have other plans.”

Nope, not even close. I have the dating life of a sixty-year-old woman. My life is nothing but work. The last sex I had over the past few months was with a vibrator or vicariously through one of Sydney’s books. She writes some real steamy stuff.

“Thanks, Alex. I’m looking forward to the clinic. Have a good night.”

After I hang up with Alex, I write down a few questions I want to ask tomorrow. This event will be the talk of the sports world. Sports Buzz needs a boost now that people are comparing it to the TMZ of sports. I take my career serious, and comments like that offend me. I did not spend four years studying journalism at NYU to let it go to waste.

Despite the late hour, I make another pot of coffee, because I need to finish my articles by morning. The worst part about being a writer is not having the words to put on the page. Sometimes, I stare at the screen for hours until I find inspiration, and thinking about the event tomorrow has me so distracted.

I turn on the radio and sink into the high back comfy chair, staring out the window that overlooks the noisy street.

My neighbors are blasting music from the house a few doors over. The same people sit on their front steps every night to deal drugs and throw wild parties. If I were smart, I would have gone apartment hunting at nighttime instead of the day. I had no idea what I was in store for until my first night living in this neighborhood. Most nights, I fall asleep to the sound of cop cars and ambulances.

Between the rent and upkeep for the apartment, I am barely making ends meet. My new lifestyle is much different from the one I had grown accustomed to as a child. Most people talk about rags to riches stories. Mine is more like riches to rags except my rags say Prada and Chanel. Or at least they do until I have to sell them to pay bills.

Within minutes of chugging coffee and reading through my notes, I find the right words to use for my article, adding some of my own flair to the story. News articles are boring, but I try to liven them up and do my best to make them sound less dull. Writing about a player with a torn rotator cuff or the Sixers practice report is not by any means the highlight of my life.

Where my writing really shines is on our blog. Our readers enjoy some of our features such as live Q&As where they can send us questions about love and sex that Sydney answers on Facebook and YouTube. Fans of her books and our blog followers love having the chance to ask a romance author for sex advice.

By the time I finish my story and add it to the queue for Monday, my phone rings again. Well after midnight, I assume it can only be one person and answer the phone without looking at the Caller ID.

“Syd, I told you I have to work on my piece. If you want another name for cock, you will have to Google it.”

A man laughs on the other end of the phone. “I think I can help you out with that. You have to start with the obvious—penis, toe, one-eyed monster—”

“Okay, that’s enough. Who is this?” I yell into the phone, irritated. “You don’t go rambling off words like that to a lady.”

“Does a lady talk about cocks on the phone with strange men?” He has me there.

“You never answered my question. Who is this? Speak now, or I’m hanging up on you.”

“Tyler Kane. I assume you have heard of me since you’re a sports reporter. Parker gave me your number.”

He has such an arrogance about him that gives me the impulse to smack him through the phone. Sucking in a deep breath, I realize he makes me nervous, which is weird. I have fantasized about Tyler on more than one occasion while watching a hockey game.

What do I even say to him?

Somehow finding the words caught in the back of my throat, I speak, and with an intentional attitude. “Yeah, I know who you are, Tyler. Why are you calling so late?”

“Because I’m about to get trashfaced, and I plan to sleep in late tomorrow. I thought we should get this over and done with before I down a bottle of whiskey.”

“Right,” I snort. “You guys lost your wild card spot for the playoffs. Tough break. I guess a few drinks are in order.”

He sighs. “Yeah, thanks for reminding me, as if I wasn’t already trying to forget.” I note the irritation in his voice and hope that he doesn’t take what I said the wrong way, but he recovers fast. “We’ll get there next year, one step at a time. Anyway, tonight we’re celebrating Parker and Coach getting back together now that Parker is going over to the dark side and shacking up with Coach.”

I lean back in my chair and kick my feet up on the desk, trying to think of how to rebound from this conversation. We are already off to an awkward start, thanks to Sydney and her stupid questions. With the downfall of my father’s company hanging over my head, this paper is one of the last pieces of Sentry Publications, the multi-million dollar company my grandfather had built from the ground up, only for my father to destroy our family legacy by getting into business with the wrong people.

“Have fun. I’ll be working,” I mutter under my breath.

“You should come out with us tonight…if you want. A bunch of my teammates and me are hanging out at this new club on the river. It’s pretty sweet.”

“Thanks for the offer but it’s getting late. I have work to do, and you don’t even know me.”

“What’s there to know? If your body matches your sexy voice, tonight could be fun for both of us.”

I pretend to gag into the receiver and stick my finger into my mouth. “Yeah, I don’t think so. I have to hang up now. When and where am I meeting you tomorrow?”

“You’re no fun.” He breathes into the phone. “I’ll meet you at two p.m. at the event center on the Strickland University campus at the back entrance.”

“Sounds great.” I slide my feet off the desk and stand with the mug in my hand because this conversation requires a shot in my coffee. I need to find that bottle of vodka I hid. “I’ll see you then.”

Without giving him time to say another word, I hang up and open the freezer. Tomorrow is going to be a long day if this talk with Tyler is any indication. But I need the press for my paper.

* * *

Kane is available now!

Read KANE for FREE with Kindle Unlimited.

Teach

If you like professor-student romances, keep reading for a free excerpt of TEACH, the first book in the City of Sinners Series.

TEACH is available now!

Read TEACH for FREE with Kindle Unlimited

Mark Montgomery cares about two things—getting laid and getting paid. He's cocky, confident, sexy-as-sin, and counting down the last few months of college before he can begin his professional baseball career. But there are things Mark must do to survive until his big payday, questionable activities that could get him killed.

He doesn't want to rope anyone into his mess, especially not Olivia Ford, the woman he takes home from the club, a sexy lawyer who turns out to be his Law and Ethics professor. Their new relationship changes everything. But Mark won’t take no for an answer. Olivia can fight him all she wants, but Mark is the one who will be teaching her a lesson. In her classroom. Bent over her office desk. On the hood of his car.

Mark is more than a dirty talker who’s good in bed and can throw a ball, but what he does on the side is the one thing that could tear them apart and expose their forbidden relationship to the world.

Teach Excerpt

CHAPTER ONE

OLIVIA

“You can do this,” I mutter. I suck in a deep breath, trying to psych myself up so that I can make it through one more night of work. Except it’s not just one more night. I have repeated the same mantra to myself for months now, and this job never gets easier.

Staring into the mirror, I hate the person I see—a woman with long fake lashes, too much makeup caked on her face, and a short black wig that itches her head, forcing her to scratch so hard that she looks like a dog who has fleas. None of it is mine; all of it is a facade to lure customers into the club. I hate that I have to work at Club Rave, offering my body to men, shaking my rear for a few dollars. But I’ve chosen this lifestyle as a temporary means to make money.

The bass thumps through the club, and even in the dressing room, the music vibrates beneath my five-inch heels. Each girl has their own vanity that they use to get ready, but tonight, the boss called in a few extras to entertain a private party, and now, we’re forced to share. On nights like these, the claws come out, and the girls have been known to fight over something as stupid as using the last of the hair spray.

“Liv,” Donna says from behind me, “we’re on in five. Hurry up. I need to put my face on. Courtney won’t move her rear until she’s slathered on another five layers of concealer, and I have bags under my eyes that make me look like a zombie from The Walking Dead.”

I don’t see a thing. She is gorgeous and has the body of a goddess. But her looks are not her best feature. Men like her because of her spitfire personality that matches what they see on the outside.

Her long, dark strands, also as fake as mine, sit above her large breasts that are practically falling out of a sexy referee costume. Most of the girls wear wigs to protect their identities. Donna just so happens to be the daughter of a successful banker in town who would go ballistic if he knew what she did for a living. Unlike me, Donna dances because she likes it. She loves when men throw themselves at her; she even gets off on it.

We became friends after only one night at the club. I was nervous about dancing in spandex and a crop top in front of strange men, and Donna did everything in her power to make me comfortable.

I look at her reflection in the mirror and laugh, shaking my head at her ridiculousness. “You look great, as always. Stop fishing for compliments.”

“But it’s true. I’ve been dragging rear this whole week. I’ll be lucky if I don’t break a heel and face-plant on the bar.”

I remove a tube of red lipstick from the makeup case on the vanity in front of me. “That’s because you choose to run out for your late-night booty calls with Tony whenever he beckons you.”

“If you saw the size of him, you’d run right over, too. Trust me.” She places her hands on my shoulders, winks at me, and squeezes down hard enough to cause me to slump in my chair. “You need to get laid, babe. When was the last time you had a good messing?”

I burst into laughter. “Messing? Where do you come up with this trash?”

She proceeds to make an O with her left thumb and index finger and then sticks her right index finger through the middle, sliding it back and forth at a fast pace, her eyes wide open with a goofy smile splayed on her face. “This is what you need to do before your vagina dries up like the Sahara.” Donna moves to the side of my chair, leans against the vanity, and bends down, as if looking under my skirt.

I roll my eyes. “What are you doing, weirdo?”

“Checking for cobwebs.” A smile reaches up to her deep brown eyes, but she holds back her laughter, her face giving away nothing.

I swat at her arm, but she moves in just enough time, causing me to smack my hand on the edge of the counter. “Curse you. Shut up, and go get ready. We don’t have time to discuss my love life, or lack thereof.”

“I’m only trying to help. As your breast friend, it is my duty to make sure you stop moping around and find some action. A one-night stand would do you some good.”

She has a point, but I don’t bother to acknowledge her comment. It has been far too long since my last boyfriend. I’ve finally gotten to the point where I dated so many losers in a row that I gave up on the idea of finding anyone normal in this city. My last boyfriend stole my car and wrecked it, and the one before had a drinking problem.

Propping her leg up on my chair, she laces up the black leather boots that cover her pale legs and stop mid thigh, accentuating her killer curves. “Is that what you’re wearing out there?” She sets her foot on the floor and moves closer, her eyes traveling down my body in disapproval. “You have to take that off.”

I slide the red lipstick along my lips and blot with a tissue from the box next to my makeup case. “Why? What’s wrong with what I have on? I wear this every Thursday.”

“Not this week. Bruno said you had to wear the gray skirt and top tonight. Ya know, the sexy-teacher outfit.” She points at the opposite end of the room, her finger landing on Kerry, who is wearing the same schoolgirl outfit as me.

Guess I missed the memo.

Bruno will kill me if I go onstage in the same costume as another dancer.

I glance in the mirror, checking my makeup one more time, and run a glossy shimmer along my bottom lip before smacking them together. “Whatever Bruno wants.” I stand with my hand held out, motioning toward my chair. “Go ahead. You should finish up here. I’ll get changed, and then I’ll see you in the VIP room.”

“Perfect.” She plops down on the leather chair. “I’m right behind you. Break a leg.”

After I change, I walk down the creepy back hallway. In the dimly lit space, the lumpy red wallpaper reminds me of coagulated blood. The lack of ventilation along with the mold and whatever is festering inside the walls and drop ceiling make it hard to breathe.

At the end of the hall, opposite our dressing room, I open the door to the VIP room and suck in a deep breath, taking in the dense air and the stench of sweaty bodies. Purple lights illuminate the mirrored walls and ceiling, casting shadows of the men who are sitting on couches scattered throughout the large, open room and standing around the bar that runs along the right side.

Two girls are dancing, each wrapping her body around a pole at the center of the room. While we’re not strippers, we have to do some pole work on occasion, especially for the high-end clients who book private rooms. Bouncers guard us, as if we were their property. In some ways though, we do belong to Bruno and his club.

Donna files in behind me and playfully smacks me on the rear, pushing me closer to the stage. Even after three months of working at the club, I still get stage fright for the first few minutes until I get into my groove. But, after I’m on the stage, bar, or whatever spot Bruno has chosen for me that night, I try not to think about the people in the crowd, and I concentrate on the real reason I am stuck working here.

Donna takes her place on the stage. I follow her lead. Bruno even had the circular platform mirrored, allowing anyone who is standing close enough to see right up our skirts. I purposely wear booty-hugging black shorts instead of the standard thong and fishnets most of the girls wear.

Moving my hips back and forth to the music, I keep my eyes on the crowd forming in front of me, careful not to focus on anyone in particular. I made that mistake when I first started dancing. A man thought I was making eye contact to signal that I wanted him when all I was trying to do was calm my nerves and pick someone to zone in on. I had done the same thing when I was in law school, and my trick had worked every time. But the freak followed me home for a week after our strange encounter, which resulted in me having to stop by the courthouse to get a restraining order.

Fun times.

I’ve heard stories from the girls, some who used to strip, about men who became obsessed with them and thought they were dating just because they’d paid them for a lap dance and tipped well. Unfortunately, the same thing happens in this line of work.

I look at the men surrounding us, standing a few feet back from the stage, thanks to our bouncers.

“Make eye contact,” Bruno always says to us.

So, I do, my eyes traveling around the room, never stopping on anyone in particular.

With this job, at least I don’t have to wear a G-string, take off my clothes, or have sweaty, horny men touching me. They only stare at me with their mouths open wide, whistling and screaming, as I throw my leg around the pole. After I twirl a few times, dancing nonstop, my body and the pole are now slick with sweat. Under the heat from the lights and the steady pace we have to maintain, I practically melt into a puddle on the floor.

I tighten my grip on the pole and hop off before I fall and embarrass myself, like when I first started out. Counting down the minutes in my head until the end of this shift, I keep going and force my body to move, already feeling my leg cramping up. I hate when that happens because it makes standing in these heels ten times harder.

When the song changes to a more techno beat, I inch forward, in sync with the other girls, and we gyrate to the beat of the music. I took ballet, tap, and jazz lessons when I was younger. But I never thought I was any good.

One of the girls I met while working as a lawyer at the public defender’s office told me about a club that paid well for dancing without taking off your clothes, and I was banging on Bruno’s door the next day, begging him for a job because I was so desperate for cash. The life of a public servant has zero rewards. On my measly public defender salary, I barely made enough money to pay a few bills and treat myself to a manicure once a month.

Once our set ends, I stop for a second, sweat dripping into my eyes and down my face. With the makeup and lights blinding me, I can hardly see the faces in front of me. Blinking a few times as I step down from the platform, I grab ahold of a bouncer’s arm, and he escorts me out of the room. I’m thrilled that I have thirty minutes before I have to go back on again.

I need the money. But I hate this job.

* * *

Our next shift moves to the main room of the club where girls are dancing inside cages suspended from the vaulted ceiling. Bruno used to switch me with the girls who normally worked above the dance floor, but one night, I got so sick from the height that he hasn’t forced me to go up there since. Now, he wants the girls to dance on top of a long mahogany bar at the center of the club where everyone can perfectly see us as we step onto the stools and climb up onto the bar.

I almost lose my balance when my shoe collides with something wet, causing me to glide toward one of the six poles bolted into the ceiling and fixed to the wood. On my first night as a dancer, I didn’t adjust to the black lights, and I walked into the bottom of the stage, falling onto the platform with my arms sprawled out and my legs sticking up in the air. It was beyond humiliating. I thought about quitting after that night, but Donna convinced me to stick with it, said things would get better as time went by. She was right. But that does not change how I feel about this job.

I could have worked a different job, apart from the public defender’s office, but I wanted to make some fast cash to pay off my debts. According to my projections, it will be at least one year, if not more, before I am debt-free. My pride has to take a backseat to the mountain of bills and collection agencies hounding me on a daily basis. I am flat broke and drowning in school loans.

“No touching!” the bouncer yells at a guy who has grabbed my leg, his sleazy hand running up the length of my calf. “I said, no touching.”

I try to shake him off, holding on to the pole and hopping around, as the bouncer peels the guy’s fingers from my skin and grips him by his shirt.

When the bouncer turns to manhandle him, my hand slides down the metal of the sweat-coated pole. With the slickness from spilled drinks on the bar, I fall forward after the guy releases my leg, having nothing left to keep me from tumbling to the ground. Except my body never hits the floor because strong arms have wrapped around me. The scent of musk and laundry detergent fill my nostrils as my nose crashes against the neck of the man who caught me.

“I got you, beautiful,” he whispers into my ear, his voice deep and sensual.

He sets me on the floor his striking green eyes luring me in. The dark tats on his muscular arms cause my heart to flutter a bit. Dang if he’s not one of the sexiest men I have laid eyes on in a long time. I was already curious about the man who saved me, but now…

Fashioned into tiny spikes that stick up in different directions, his dark auburn hair has more brown to it than red, somehow making him even more alluring. He has a trace of stubble along his angular jaw, completing the younger, sexier Michael Fassbender look.

My goodness, he’s gorgeous. Can I even use that word when talking about a man?

“I’m sorry about that!” he yells over the music. “My friend is a jerk. Let me make it up to you. What are you drinking?”

“I can’t, not when I’m working.”

“After work then.”

Before I can respond, a bouncer pulls me away from him and pushes the guy further into the crowd.

My cue to get back to work.

Bruno watches us from camera feeds in his office. I have no doubt, he is pissed about me taking a minute to talk to the man who spared me massive humiliation.

You okay? Donna mouths to me as I climb onto the bar.

I try to compose myself before getting back to our routine. With a quick nod, I continue moving to the beat of the music, falling in line with the rest of the girls on the bar with me. It’s rare for a customer to ever get close enough to us that we have cause for concern—not unless they’ve paid for a more intimate experience in the VIP room, but even that premium service only gets them within a few feet of the girls.

Among the guys in the crowd, I spot him instantly. He’s the kind of guy who stands out. He must be in his early twenties, though he could pass as older.

The boy who touched me must have evaded the bouncer because he’s found his way back to the group of guys surrounding my tatted savior. He chases the boy away with a wave of his hand, his mouth twisted in disgust while speaking to him, and then he steps next to a tall, dark-haired man with a scruffy beard and unkempt appearance. They do not look like friends. I’m shocked someone so yummy would even hang out with guys like the troll next to him and the skeevy dude who tried to feel me up. But the two guys to his left, the ones with beautiful women dangling on their arms, are even better-looking, similar in height, and just as well built.

Despite my rule of not focusing on anyone too long, I cannot take my eyes off him. And, once he leans into his unattractive friend to talk to him, our eyes meet at the same time, and I forget I’m supposed to be moving to the beat and following a routine. My body does what it wants, repeating the sequences from memory. He stares so hard, so intense, that, if the lights weren’t so hot already, I’d melt under his gaze.

He sifts through the crowd and steps in front of the bar to order, his eyes never leaving mine. After the bartender hands him a drink, he licks his lips at me and takes a sip from his glass. Lost in him, I don’t even realize the song has ended until Donna taps me on the shoulder, snapping me out of my trance.

“C’mon, Liv. Get your rear in gear.”

Ending our staring contest, I turn around, giving him a nice view of my rear in my barely there outfit, and I hop down from the bar. I look over my shoulder at him one last time before I follow behind Donna. He smiles and raises his glass at me, and I grin like an idiot.

I walk into the dressing room with Donna at my side, the other girls ahead of us.

Donna pats me on the back and pulls me closer. “That was a close call, huh? He had his hand wrapped pretty tightly around your leg.”

“I didn’t even have time to react before the bouncer threw him out.”

“You should’ve kicked him in the face for getting so close.” She tilts her head back and laughs. “That would’ve taught that mongrel a lesson for touching the goods.”

Taking a seat in front of my dressing table, I sigh. “I’m fine. It’s not like I haven’t had dudes try to touch me before. Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

Donna sits beside me, pressing down on the corner of her eye to hold her fake lashes in place. “At least you start your new job on Monday. You won’t need this place soon enough.” She turns to me and frowns. “I’ll miss you when you are a hotshot professor and have dozens of published papers in some fancy law journal.”

“It’s only an associate professor position at Strickland University, not Harvard.”

“Strickland is still a prestigious school. Give yourself some credit. Not too shabby for your first teaching gig. And it beats the public defender’s office.”

I shrug, nonchalant, even though I know the position is the opportunity of a lifetime. “You’re acting like I scored a job as a department head. I will still be here, shaking my rear next to you, until I have my freedom back.”

She grabs a bottle of water from the vanity and holds it up. “To freedom and making money. I’m so happy for you, Liv. Professor Ford has a nice ring to it. Professor Olivia Ford. You sound very official.”

Her comment brings a smile to my face. “Thanks, D. I guess you can say, teaching is in my blood.”

“I bet your dad was a good teacher. He can teach me quadratic equations any day.” She licks her lips and winks at me.

“Gross!” I throw a tube of lipstick at her, laughing. “That’s my dad you’re talking about. He’s retired and…just ew.”

She shrugs. “What? He’s cute for an old dude.”

I grew up in a middle-class neighborhood in Northeast Philadelphia with parents who were both schoolteachers. My dad taught high school mathematics and met my mom shortly after when she applied at his school to teach English. I’m a little bit of each parent, good with both numbers and words.

Instead of teaching, I went to law school and landed myself a job at the public defender’s office after I passed the Pennsylvania Bar Exam right out of school. I had offers from top firms in the city, but I chose the life of a civil servant because I wanted to help people. Too bad the job paid trash. With all the loans and credit cards I had racked up while I was in school, the pittance of a salary I made wasn’t enough to keep food on my table, a roof over my head, and the collection agencies off my back.

I loved my job…until I had that one case—the one that rips you apart and tears you to pieces. Every lawyer has one client who tests their limits, their morals, and their judgment. Glen Brandis, aka the Wissinoming Park Rapist, was the straw that broke my back. I lost all desire to practice law after his case. I still lose sleep at night over what happened in the courtroom that day.

“Let’s go, ladies!” Tamara, the grouchy woman who manages the dancers, screams through the dressing room door. “You’re on again in two minutes.”

I groan and slide off my stool. “I seriously hope I won’t have to endure much more of this before I can make my escape.”

Donna laughs. “You only have to slum it a little bit longer, Teach,” she says, calling me by my dancer name.

* * *

TEACH is available now!

Read TEACH for FREE with Kindle Unlimited

Corrupt Me

If you like new adult bad boy romances, keep reading for a free excerpt of CORRUPT ME, the first book in the Philly Corruption Series.

CORRUPT ME is available now!

Read CORRUPT ME for FREE with Kindle Unlimited.

Izzie Rinaldi has everything going for her. All she has to do is make it through her senior year of college, and then she’ll be off to law school, one step closer to assuming her position at the head of her family’s empire. After a chance encounter with the campus bad boy, Izzie can’t get him out of her head.

Luca Marchese, the smooth-talking son of the most notorious man in Philadelphia, is used to getting what he wants. He hasn’t forgotten the girl he knew as a child, and now that he has Izzie’s attention, Luca will stop at nothing to have her.

Luca’s defiance of the law turns Izzie on more than she cares to admit. She wants Luca to corrupt her in every way possible, despite his reputation as the king of one-night stands. Their attraction is undeniable, but their desire for one another isn’t enough for Izzie to overlook visits from federal agents and the potential ruin of her family.

Linked to Luca and a criminal underworld, Izzie discovers she’s more like him than she thought. But a future with Luca could mean swapping her diamond bracelets for a pair of handcuffs.

Corrupt Me Excerpt

CHAPTER ONE

IZZIE

As I headed down Broad Street toward the stadium, cars whipped through the city in a frenzy of chaos. With the Phillies on a winning streak, the streets were crowded with red-and-white baseball jerseys. Despite the fans cheering in the distance, the dull hum didn’t compare to Strickland University’s bustling campus.

My senior year would’ve been off to a good start if not for the tatted hothead in a Honda Civic who had almost run me off the road. I managed to swerve in time to miss the parked car to my right, but I couldn’t let him off that easy.

Even though I should remain in the right lane to get to my dormitory, I checked my side mirror, inched forward, and yanked the wheel into the left lane to cut off the beat-up Honda.

My best friend, Silvia Barker, rolled down her window, her middle finger dangling in the breeze, as I blew through the red light. As a minivan pulled onto the street, I parked in its space in front of Jefferson Hall.

I opened the door of my M Series Coupé, desperate to peel my legs from the leather seat and grabbed my Diet Coke bottle from the cup holder. Twenty yards away, even in the glaring summer sun, I spotted my next mistake. Shirtless eye candy threw footballs across the front lawn, dirt smeared on their sweaty bodies. I flipped up my sunglasses and leaned on the hood to get a better look.

Silvia slid out from the passenger side, a complaint on her lips. “Dang, it’s hot out here. I bet you could fry an egg on the pavement.”

I tugged on my canary-yellow tank top to fan myself. “I know. It’s at least ten degrees hotter than in the burbs.”

“The worst part is the humidity,” Silvia groaned.

I clicked the trunk release.

Silvia jumped off the curb to retrieve her black-and-gold studded purse from the trunk. She rifled through her bag and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. “The Weather Channel is predicting a heat wave over the next few days.”

“A little weather won’t hold me back.” I chuckled, turning away from her as she lit a cigarette, the smoke assaulting my lungs. “I’m like an inmate on death row with just a few more days of freedom until my life is officially over.”

“Get a grip. It’s just a job, not the end of the world.”

“Just a job,” I moaned. “That’s easy for you to say. You’ll be off to California next year and I’ll be stuck working with Grandfather.”

Around a giant fountain, a group of girls in bikinis propped themselves up against a replica of the Liberty Bell. Water trickled down from the top of the cracked bell in the center of the quad, spraying them. They were the main attraction, and boys were tripping over their toes to get a second look. Returning students flocked from the well-preserved brownstone that lined three sides of the rectangular field. Strickland University had the pristine shine of an Ivy League college with skyscrapers serving as the backdrop. Even the statues of famous Philadelphians sparkled like fresh paint on new car.

“C’mon, Izzie Bear, let’s get a move on.” Silvia took a few more drags and then knocked the fiery ash off with the bottom of her sneaker.

I snickered, now walking toward her, as I ignored her previous comment. “I was waiting for you to put that out. You know those things will kill you.”

“Well, I like my cancer in the form of menthols, thank you very much.” Silvia slung her purse over her shoulder and laughed. Her black hair, fashioned into a bob resting below her chin, was stuck to a thin sheen of sweat on her cheek.

A punk rocker to the core, she wore a faded Warped Tour tee and jean shorts with holes in them. Our tastes were similar, except I’d pay for the ripped look where Silvia would make her own clothes. It wasn’t because she couldn’t afford them. She was one of those artsy chicks who enjoyed torturing her parents, a plea to get them to pay attention to her.

As the daughter of a former beauty queen, she didn’t look the part—although she did inherit her mother’s long lashes and perfect complexion—but her mother never glanced up from her martini glass long enough to notice. We were born into families with too much money and zero emphasis on human interaction.

I was about to open my soda when a car swerved next to me, its back tire just missing my foot. Blinded by rage, I gripped the plastic top and lunged my soda at the white Honda Civic.

“Watch it, jerk!” I screamed, my hands above my head.

The car screeched to a halt twenty feet ahead of us as Silvia stood at my side in shock. First, the blinkers turned on, and then a stocky twenty-something boy flung open his door. Dark tattoos covered his forearms that were corded with muscles. He ran his hand through his shaggy auburn hair, spiked up in different places, as he grinned at me.

“Oh, shoot.” Silvia slapped her hand over her mouth, her voice full of laughter. “That dude’s gonna murder us. Let’s get the heck out of here.”

I shut the trunk and followed Silvia across the lawn. I ran so fast that my heart pounded out of my chest, the adrenaline coursing through my veins, igniting a fire under my skin. It gave me such a rush that I couldn’t hide a satisfied smile as I peeked over my shoulder.

The thrill of doing something wrong, waiting to be caught in the act, always seemed more exciting than sex. Maybe there was something wrong with me, an inner sickness that I needed to address. For whatever reason, those small victories would get my juices flowing.

We yell-laughed, skirting around innocent bystanders, as we made our victory lap. Oblivious to my surroundings, my celebration ended faster than it had begun as I crashed headfirst into a thick wall of hunky man flesh. It happened so fast that I hadn’t had time to brace myself for impact, doing a half flip along with him. He landed on his back with me face-planting on top of him, my breasts pressed against his chin.

Of all the people to bump into, it had to be Luca Marchese. His cocky grin made my lip curl with revulsion even though he seemed to have the opposite effect on my nipples. One glance from him, and they betrayed me.

“Hey, princess.” His voice was deeper, sexier, than I remembered from class.

I blushed ten shades of pink from my cheeks to my neck, distracted by denim-blue irises set under dark brows. I rolled my eyes, attempting to peel myself off his bare chest, but he grabbed my wrists.

“Not so fast. I think you owe me an explanation.”

“I don’t owe you trash.”

I wiggled free from his grasp, straddling him without meaning to. I held his arms flat against the grass. Our faces were inches apart as I hovered over him, the sexual tension burning between us like a lit match. We shared a short-lived moment until his eyes found my breasts again, and he winked.

“Perv,” I said through clenched teeth.

Lean muscles brushed against my legs as he moved.

“What? You can’t fault me for checking you out”—he tilted his head to the side, his gaze falling over each of my curves—“especially when you’re shoving some of your best features in my face.”

He propped himself up onto his elbow and reached for my waist with his other hand, but I swatted his hand before he could touch me.

“You’re a feisty one. Got a mouth on you, too.” A fire blazed behind those beautiful blue eyes. “What I’d like to do with that dirty mouth of yours,” he said, rolling his tongue over his lip.

Dang, he had nice lips, both full and perfect. Every part of me wanted to lean in and kiss him and shove my fingers through his dark waves. No boy had ever affected me this way. But he was a man, not a boy. With radiant olive skin, chiseled features, and toned in all the right places, he could be a model.

My breath hitched at his comment.

I wasn’t sure, but I swore I could feel his erection pressing against my thigh, which should have freaked me out. Instead, I looked down, irritated that it turned me on more than I cared to admit.

He followed my gaze to his crotch and grinned, confirming my suspicions. “You should come to Delta Sig’s annual beach party. The less you wear, the better.”

“Well, you know what they say. Less is more.” My strange attempt at a joke only fueled the tension between us. “But, no, thanks.”

Tiny bumps ran down my arms and legs, a result of our close proximity. And, of course, he noticed the effect he had on me. He didn’t skip a beat.

Now aware of my body and how it reacted to him, I needed an escape. I stood over Luca, desperate to stop the electricity pulsating through me. Every part of me ached for him, craved his touch. Since I’d knocked him over, I stretched my arm out to help him up, and he accepted. I didn’t have the right to be a total jerk, maybe just a partial one.

Luca wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead, the rest of his bare skin glistening in the sunlight. Eye contact proved to be too much for me.

He picked up the pigskin at his feet and pushed a hand through his cropped black hair. Luca had thick hair that moved back into place, like those people in shampoo commercials. With the football held against his hip, he could have been posing for the cover of a magazine, one I would have shamelessly hung on my wall.

I recognized the boy from Broad Street walking toward us in a Phillies baseball jersey. As our eyes met, he folded his arms over his chest.

“You rich jerk,” he said, his voice coming off like a growl. Cold and calculated, his hardened stare was similar to that of a trained killer.

What was it with Philly boys? They were so rough around the edges, like rabid dogs ready to claw their way out of a cage.

Luca pushed me behind him, his hand on my hip, sparking a new level of excitement within me. I nearly salivated on his tan skin as he came to my defense.

“Talk to her like that again, and you’ll be picking up your teeth off the ground.”

The guy moved his jaw back and forth, drawing attention to his cleft chin, and cracked his neck. No way was he close to backing down. Idiot.

“I’ll talk to her however the heck I want to. Stay out of it. Jerk threw a soda in my car window.”

I slid out from Luca’s shadow and stepped between them. “You almost ran me over. Maybe you should watch where you’re going next time.”

Luca hooked his arm around my waist, pulling me against him. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll get back in your car and forget it ever happened.”

I should have moved because I expected the boy to take a swing. But Luca smelled of sweat and citrus, a delicious combination that made me want to lick his skin.

“She owes me!” he yelled in Luca’s face, pointing at the tiny brown stains on his jersey. “Her soda exploded when it hit my dashboard.”

He was close enough that I got a whiff of stale cigarettes on his breath.

Nothing seemed to faze Luca, not even this crazy person invading his personal space. He took a wad of cash from his pocket, plucked a few twenties from the stack, and threw them at the boy. “There, consider the debt paid. Now, get outta here!” he spoke with a thick South Philly accent.

His over pronunciation of vowels wasn’t what caught my attention though. No, Luca commanded a presence, a sense of authority, that I felt in my bones. He didn’t back down. He just stood there, grinding his teeth together. I looked over my shoulder at Luca’s fraternity brothers huddled around us like an army.

“Keep your jerk on a leash,” the boy said, his body angled toward the street.

With that, I lost my dang mind. As I attempted to lunge at the guy, Luca clutched my bicep, holding me back.

I flicked my fingers under my jaw and smirked at the jerk. “Vaffanculo!”

Most of the time, I cursed in Italian, sort of a habit I’d picked up while growing up at Rinaldi Manor. Swear words sounded better in another language.

Luca laughed, shaking his head at me, intrigued. I stomped off toward Silvia. She was waiting for me with an impish grin, her back resting against a flagpole, her arms crossed over her chest.

“Wow!” Silvia’s mouth dropped open in awe. “That was pretty crazy, huh? And, now, Luca Marchese is over there, defending your honor. Never thought I’d see that.”

I turned around to see Luca with his fists full of the boy’s shirt, and I gulped. Because of my insane outburst, this stranger now had Luca’s fraternity brothers surrounding him. Dang it.

I sifted through the group just in time to hear Luca threatening him. The two of them were going at it in an attempt to counter the other. I had a feeling Luca was not used to anyone challenging him.

“That’s enough.” I touched Luca’s forearm.

He glanced at me. “Not until he apologizes.” He released his shirt and stepped back. He pivoted his foot, half-facing the boy and me, as if torn between where he wanted to be.

At the murderous look in his eyes and the heat behind his words, a strange pulse of electricity situated itself between my thighs. I wasn’t sure if my hands were sweating from the heat or the nervous energy shooting through my entire body.

The fountain girls watched him and studied me, their arms folded across their chests. I felt as though I were under a giant microscope. The vicious daggers these girls shot at me made me wonder if they would tackle me to get to him. Well, they could have him. Rich jerks like Luca were a dime a dozen at this school. And I’d had my fair share of drama over the years. I didn’t need any more.

When I refused to respond, Luca said, “Bella, he owes you an apology.” He shot the guy a pained expression. “Don’t you? Now, tell her you’re sorry. Nod your head, and spit it out.”

“Don’t call me Bella,” I said, my jaw tensed in anger. “You lost the right years ago.”

“You’re beautiful. I’m just stating a fact, gorgeous.” Luca winked, one side of his mouth turned up into a crooked smile.

He pulled the same Greek-lettered shirt his brothers wore from the waistband of his black basketball shorts. As he wiped his face with it, I couldn’t help but stare.

“Sorry,” the boy grumbled.

Luca folded his arms across his chest, engaged in a stare-down with the crazy person in front of him, before turning toward me. “What kind of man would I be if I let him talk to a woman like that? You shouldn’t settle.”

“I’m not,” I snapped back. “I know how to choose my battles, and this isn’t one of them.” I waved my hand at the stranger. “Apology accepted. Just go!”

Luca cocked an eyebrow at me. The guy might have been a jerk for almost running me down, but he did not deserve anything Luca had in mind. I knew all about his family and their connections. If the guy had even a hint of who Luca was, he would have kept his mouth shut. Nobody stepped up to a Marchese unless they wanted to end up at the bottom of the Delaware River. By shooing him away, I might have saved his life without him realizing it.

Smart enough to leave this time, the boy started walking toward his car.

With wide-eyed curiosity, Luca took a step back. “Looks like you owe me now, princess.”

At the sound of his husky voice, I stopped in my tracks. I wasn’t about to owe the son of the most dangerous man in Philadelphia a thing.

His brothers didn’t even pretend not to stare down my shirt, but that wasn’t what angered me.

“I don’t owe you trash.” I crossed my arms over my chest, deciding whether I wanted to walk away. But I could not let him win on principle alone. “How much did you give him? My wallet is in my car.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, unaffected. “You can find another way to show me your appreciation.”

“Che schifo!” I nearly spit on the ground, throwing my hand out at him in disgust.

“Babe, I’m not that bad.” He stared at my thighs and flashed a panty-dropper grin. “Trust me, I don’t repulse you. Not even a little bit.”

I sucked in a deep breath and blew it out my nose. “Think whatever you want. I don’t need your charity. I’m good for it.”

He smirked. “I know you are, princess, but I don’t want your money.”

“Fine,” I huffed, not the least bit entertained. “I guess I’ll have to find another way to pay you back. Come by Mickey’s. I’m going there with some friends later.”

His smile widened. “It’s a date.”

“Nope, not a date. Just paying off a debt. I sure don’t want to owe you of all people anything.” Despite my anger, I felt an odd sense of arousal from this argument.

He stepped forward, his brothers making room for him to pass. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know what I mean, Luca.”

He shot me a look, as though I’d piqued his interest. “So, you do remember me.”

“We’ve had, how many classes together? How could I not? No one can miss the skank parade you bring with you.”

His cocky smirk set my skin on fire.

“Don’t think I give a garbage about you, you stubborn rear.” I rolled my eyes. “You can go home and stroke your ego, but keep me out of it,” I said, making a jerking motion with my hand.

Luca laughed, but it came out more like a snort. “I can’t wait for tonight. You’re a mystery, Isabella Rinaldi. Always have been.”

I wondered why I’d invited him to the bar with us or why I kept talking to him. Stupidity, I guessed.

A small part of me, the side that had zero willpower, wanted him to do unspeakable things to me. My brain screamed for me to retreat.

“Next time, try not to be such a toe. It’s not flattering.”

He nodded, and then, I spun around and walked away from him.

“What was that?” Silvia skipped across the lawn toward me.

The massive four-story brownstone and the courtyard surrounding it took up the better part of a city block. Strickland University had a beautiful campus. According to the pamphlets, the senior dorm was the oldest and, by far, the most architecturally impressive. The residence hall was split into multiple sections, with walkways that led to each of the wide staircases.

Silvia and I veered toward the right, passing a group of boys jogging. She turned for a second glance, smiling at her usual rugged type. Twenty-four/seven, she had boys on the brain.

Double doors swung open, concerned parents and their children forcing their way through them. A palpable air of excitement radiated off the incoming seniors. It would’ve been nice to have parents who cared enough to help me move. Mine had probably forgotten I was still in school.

I hooked my arm around Silvia’s skinny bicep, leading her into the hall. “We’re meeting the Delta Sig guys at Mickey’s later, so wear something hot.”

She squealed with delight, her elbow digging into my side, as we scooted closer to make room in the crowded hallway. “Yum. I got dibs on Hunter Sterling.”

“The chunky lineman?” I scrunched my nose at her. “He’s all yours.”

Silvia bobbed her head, unaffected by my sarcasm. “You’ve gotta admit, he’s still hot even though he’s gained a few pounds. I mean, how do you not want to grip those arms and straddle him?”

I rolled my eyes and climbed the stairs to our double suite, sliding my fingers up the wooden railing. “I hate rich guys. They’re all cut from the same cloth. Why would you even want him? He’s a total Preston.”

Silvia ducked to the side, trying to avoid a group of girls scampering in our direction. “Maybe, but they’re not like the rest of the frat boys, Izzie Bear. Most of them are from around here, not like those pricks over at the Alpha house with their boat shoes and cardigans. The things I’ve heard about some of the Delta Sig guys, I swear, would blow your mind.”

“I seriously doubt any of them could blow my mind.” Well, maybe Luca could, but I kept that to myself. “Let’s not talk about them. Now that I’m on Luca’s radar, he’s never going to stop bothering me.” I stuffed the room assignment paper in my pocket and pointed at our new two-bedroom suite. “I have a better idea. As soon as we get our stuff unpacked, we should have a little afternoon pick-me-up. Coffee with a little Sambuca sounds good right about now.”

Silvia turned the key and pushed open the door to our room, and we stepped inside. “Nah, Irish coffee all the way, babe. I’ve got a bottle of whiskey in the trunk we can work with.”

I held up my fist, and Silvia bumped hers against it with a goofy smile splayed on her face.

“Cheers to that,” I said, planning to drink away my past feelings for Luca. He broke my heart when we were kids. I wasn’t about to let him do it again.

* * *

CORRUPT ME is available now!

Read CORRUPT ME for FREE with Kindle Unlimited.

Newsletter

To get a sneak peek of Jillian’s upcoming books as well as free books, book deals, giveaways, and exclusive excerpts, sign up HERE for Jillian’s newsletter.

All of Jillian’s Books are available to read for free with Kindle Unlimited.

Other Titles by Jillian Quinn

FACE-OFF SERIES

Book 1: Parker

Book 2: Kane

Book 3: Donovan

Book 4: Jameson (Pre-Order: July 12, 2017)

Book 5: Dean (September 2017)

CITY OF SINNERS NOVELLA SERIES

Book 1: Teach

Book 2: Sex Therapy

PHILLY CORRUPTION SERIES

Corrupt Me

Totally Corrupt (TBD)

For updates on Jillian’s upcoming books, visit jillianquinnbooks.com

Sign up for Jillian’s newsletter at
http://eepurl.com/cuJkOr for free books, book deals, giveaways, and exclusive excerpts from her books.

Acknowledgments

It takes a team of people to help make a book launch successful, and I have an amazing team that has my back.

Before I thank everyone who works with me, I want to thank my readers. You guys have made this series a success, and because of your love for these characters, I will continue to write about these hockey hotties you love so much. Don’t worry. I write more than hockey. I’m a lover of all sports. I have baseball, boxing, MMA, football, and racing books coming soon. Mark from Corrupt Me and Teach will make a cameo in my baseball series. And, of course, I have more hockey books planned!

I’m also planning a free book that will contain sample chapters of all my upcoming books. It will be available completely for free to newsletter followers.

I want to give a shout out to all my beta readers: Amanda, Payton, Charlotte, and Jamie. You ladies are all rock stars. Thank you so much for taking the time out of your busy schedules to help make my books better. I love getting all your feedback on my work. Most of all, thank you for your friendship.

I also want to thank my ARC readers, the members of my Sinners Sanctuary, and all the bloggers and fans who help spread the love for my books. Your support and dedication mean the world to me.

XOXO,

Jill

About the Author

Jillian Quinn loves Mafia men, sports, bad boys, dirty-talkers, strong female characters, and books with plenty of heat—all of which you will find in her books. When she’s not reading or writing, she is obsessively fangirling over hockey players and can be found wherever she can catch the next hockey game.

Jillian is the author of the Philly Corruption Series, Face-Off Series, and the City of Sinners Series with other new adult romance titles to follow. For more information about Jillian’s books, visit her website at jillianquinnbooks.com.

Sign up for Jillian’s Bad Boy Mafia newsletter for free books, book deals, giveaways, and exclusive excerpts from her books.