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Prologue
Jayden
Corporate Season Ticket Holders’ Holiday Party – Late November
“How much have you already had to drink?”
She stands in the doorway, arms crossed over her cranberry sweater dress, paired with high-heeled black boots. Her hair is loose and blown out perfectly. Too perfectly. It’s practically begging for someone to mess it up. Same with that deep red gloss on her lips.
“Too much and yet not enough,” I mumble and run a hand through my hair quickly. I didn’t put much effort into it tonight. I should have, but like everything right now, I just don’t give a shit.
Ellery is staring at me intently, warm hazel eyes moving up and down my frame. I’ve worn a charcoal gray button-down and black dress pants with sneakers because I hate dress shoes. They’re as confining as skates but without the benefits of getting somewhere obscenely fast. “What?”
She shrugs. “Just making a mental note to stay away from relationships so I avoid ending up like… whatever this is.”
“This is grumpy and moderately inebriated at a work function,” I reply, frowning. “Also, this isn’t what you think.”
Ellery lifts an eyebrow. “You aren’t being an emo bitch because you and your girlfriend broke up? Again.”
I scowl and walk to the fridge. “No. I’m actually relieved the endless drama with Ariel finally ended. For good. This isn’t about my relationship.”
I yank open the fridge door and stick my whole head in looking for something—anything—I can mix with the shitty vodka in my flask. Ellery asks what I’m doing, and even with my head in the fridge, I know she’s moved closer. I explain my search and hear her snicker. “You’re one of the top three highest-paid players in the league, and you bought yourself cheap, shitty vodka?”
I turn to face her and have to use the open fridge door to steady myself. She’s right behind me now, less than a foot away. I can smell her. Ellery smells fantastic. It’s some oddly erotic, spicy citrus scent. She parts her lips a little in a smirk.
“You are the cockiest woman I have ever met,” I blurt out. Ellery blinks once, and it’s the only fleeting moment of shock she gives me. I like it, so my half-in-the-bag brain adds, “And it’s mind-bendingly sexy.”
Her eyes flare and a beautiful pink blooms on her cheeks, but she pretends it’s not happening and replies in an unaffected voice. “Let’s get back to you and the shitty vodka at a work event.”
“I can’t be expected not to have a little buffer buzz when you stick me in a confined space with Waller,” I tell her and find a can of Coke Zero at the back of the fridge. There’s a small Post-it on it that says “Martine,” so I rip it off and make a mental note to replace it later. “Why did these season ticket holders have to ask for him and me at their holiday party? Why not Duggan and me or me and Monty? Or, like, anyone but Waller?”
“Ah…” Ellery nods and leans back, her tight little ass pressing against the table behind her. “They voted for him because he’s charming and lovable and our best defenseman. I don’t know why he annoys you so much.”
“He makes a tin of garbanzo beans look intelligent,” I snap, which I know is mean. No one has to tell me. I inhale sharply and try to be nicer. “I try, Ellery. I swear. On the ice I can manage because he is a fucking great player, but when we’re chatting with these VIPs, everything that comes out of his mouth is embarrassing. The CEO of the tech company that has a box asked Waller if he was tired after our East Coast road trip, and he said, ‘so tired I put hairspray on my armpits tonight thinking it was deodorant.’”
Ellery smiles. It makes me more annoyed.
“He could have just said yes. All I said was yes. Also, why does the dude have hairspray? Have you seen his hair? He doesn’t even look like he owns a comb. You telling me he puts hairspray in that to keep it messy on purpose?”
She doesn’t say or do anything for a long moment, and it makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. But then, she shrugs. “Listen, Captain, your job is to be straightforward, put together, and jaw-droppingly handsome. Waller’s job is to be the goofy, unkempt, comic relief. It’s why the fans love the two of you together at these events.”
“These rich guys don’t care what I look like,” I bark out, pouring some vodka into the Coke Zero can.
I start to raise the pop can to my lips, but Ellery gracefully reaches over and plucks it from my hand. “You don’t do aspartame.”
“How do you know my dietary restrictions?”
“Because I know everything about this team,” she replies. “It’s how I keep it running so well. I also know the rich dudes in that room might not care what you look like, but their wives and daughters do. And they’re here tonight too. You’re their Christmas present.”
I watch her walk toward the stainless steel sink in the corner of the room to toss my drink. Her scent lingers, and I find myself leaning into it. She doesn’t notice. I regain control and proceed to stick my foot in my mouth. “One of the daughters has been hitting on Waller all night, not me.”
“I’m sure there are still some out there that would go home with Jayden Diaz… if he didn’t have a girlfriend.”
“I don’t. Ariel and I are done. Again, but this time for real,” I say, and she looks at me with a nod so lackluster that it may as well be an eye roll.
I don’t blame her. I’ve been down this road with Ariel more than once since I got to Vancouver, but this time feels different. I’m not rattled about the idea of life without her anymore. I’m kind of relieved. I change the subject. “You don’t care that someone is hitting on Waller? I’m giving you a heads-up because I thought you and Waller were…didn’t you…”
She tosses the now empty pop can toward the garbage near the door, and it drops into the bin effortlessly. She smiles in victory and leans against the sink. “Waller and I got drunk at the end of the season last year and got naked. Once. Now we’re friends, so thanks, but I don’t need a heads-up.”
I feel like an asshole even though she doesn’t seem mad. “Sorry. Who you see is none of my business. I don’t have the right to comment.”
“I wasn’t seeing him. I don’t see people. I have sex with people. Usually once. Rarely twice. Never three times,” Ellery says like she’s a dude in the locker room and once again, her confidence gets my dick’s attention. “Now I think you need to lay off the booze, go back to the party downstairs, drink a coffee, and use that handsome face to charm the old fucks who pay for the box seats.”
“That’s the second time you called me handsome.”
She laughs breathlessly. “Because facts are facts, Captain. There’s a reason we sell out of the women’s version of your jersey every season.” Ellery winks at me, and my dick is really paying attention now.
“Yeah, but do you think…” I stop myself. Even half-drunk me knows that’s not an appropriate question for the assistant director of hockey operations. I drop my head. “Never mind. You go ahead. Give me a minute. I’ll head back down there.”
The party’s two floors below us, on the highest level of the arena’s seating in the newly renovated Chairman’s lounge, which is essentially a little arena lounge for box seat ticket holders only. She doesn’t say anything for a long minute, but she also doesn’t move. At least I don’t hear her walking away. I refuse to look up and check. My cheeks are red now, and it’s not from my shitty booze. “You only need a minute to get rid of that hard-on?” she asks, and my heart stops beating. “Because I’m gonna need a little longer to get my panties to dry out.”
Holy shit.
I slowly raise my gaze. When I lift my gaze from her banging body to her face, she’s smiling, and her eyes look darker than normal. She pushes herself off the sink and walks slowly toward the door. I couldn’t stop my eyes from following her, even if it were the last minute of the Stanley Cup Final and I had the puck on my stick. And yeah, I liberally drink in that fine ass of hers as it sways in the clingy, knitted dress. She pauses at the door, looks over her shoulder, and catches me staring. She doesn’t look surprised.
“Turn around,” I command, my voice so thick with attraction I don’t even recognize it. She does what I say without a word. “Did you just insinuate I turned you on?”
She’s framed in the doorway by garland and backlit by the small strings of twinkling Christmas lights on the tree at the end of the hallway. “I don’t insinuate,” Ellery replies. “I state facts. And judging by that bulge in your pants, the feeling is mutual. If that girlfriend of yours stays gone, and you ever want to do something about it, let me know.”
She turns to leave. She takes a step, but I’m across the room and grab her wrist before she can take another. She lets me spin her back around, smiling when we come face-to-face. My confidence, unlike hers, falters. I have always been a rule follower when it comes to hockey—both on and off the ice. One of those rules is don’t fuck someone who could fuck your career. She’s the daughter of the owner and the director of Comets hockey operations, and could easily fuck my career into oblivion. My eyes flick up, and I notice the mistletoe hanging from the doorframe above her head.
She looks up, too. “Well now, if you don’t follow Christmas tradition, Santa will put you on the naughty list.”
I don’t respond right away, leaning into her, inhaling her scent, our lips inches apart as I dip my head down. As our lips connect, my eyes fall closed, and my body lights up like that Christmas tree at the end of the hall. She’s the one who slips her tongue into my mouth first, grabbing the back of my head and angling my mouth the way we both want.
Ellery tastes like the mulled wine from the event downstairs, all cinnamon, nutmeg, and a hint of orange. I’m sobering up and getting impossibly hard simultaneously. Ellery is sliding her hands across my shoulders under my suit jacket and down my back. I let the jacket fall as I deepen the kiss and press her into the door frame with my body. She lets out the sweetest little gasp when I press my hard-on into her hip.
I reach for her hair, but she grabs both my wrists. Grazing her lips along my jaw, leaving a smear of lip gloss in her wake, I’m sure she whispers, “I have to go back out there and be executive Ellery. Let’s put your hands somewhere else.”
I let her guide my hands to her thighs. Her dress feels as kitten-soft as it looks. I would love to caress it forever, but I want to feel something else, so I slip my fingers under the hem and move my hand upward. She’s in garters, holy shit. I’ve never had a girl who wears garters before, but it’s not like my body count is high. Maybe this is normal? All I know is it’s undeniably hot.
She nips my neck, her hands on my belt. “Good boy.”
I grin against the shell of her ear as my fingertips press against her silky panties. “Wet girl.”
“You’re the hottest player in the league right now, Diaz, so of course you touching me is a turn-on,” she says. “If only you would get out of your own way and fucking own it.”
Wow. A professional pep talk while my fingers tickle her landing strip? That is a first. “I’m sorry, all I heard there was the word fucking. Care to repeat?”
She laughs, but it turns into a moan as two of my fingers enter her. “Let’s table the talking for another time.”
She pushes my zipper down, pops my button above it, and lets out a whimper. My hand is relentless, my fingers working in and out of her, my thumb gently but firmly rubbing her clit. “I can get on my knees and suck your cock, Diaz. Do you want that?”
“Yes. But I want to fuck you so hard you still feel me when you’re downstairs,” I huff back as her hand breaches my boxer briefs and her smooth, soft palm glides down my shaft. “And don’t call me Diaz. Call me Jayden. Or handsome again.”
“How about Captain, Captain?” she asks with a giggle I turn breathless with my talented fingers. She squeezes my cock in retaliation, and my balls tighten as her thumb slips through the pearl of pre-cum on the tip. “And unless you have protection, we aren’t going to make it that far.”
“Wallet,” I say and pray that condom is still there. Being the product of an unexpected, life-changing, teen pregnancy, I’ve used condoms with every girlfriend, every time. My Tia and my mom insisted I carry one with me since I was fourteen and made me promise to replace it every month if I didn’t use it. If my Tia thought I was slacking, she would leave a new one on my pillow like a sex-positive tooth fairy.
“Is it old?” Ellery asks. “If it’s been in there since before you met Ariel—” Ellery reaches into my back pocket and pulls out my wallet. She’s holding up the condom.
“I’ve never not used a condom, even with Ariel.” I snap back to the present and realize my mind wants just to shut off and enjoy the moment, but… “Being the accidental pregnancy that ruins your mom’s life makes you conscientious.”
“I’m on the pill, but I never fully trust it. Condoms every time for me too,” Ellery says and presses the condom into my hand. “And you didn’t ruin your mom’s life. She’s thriving from my view.”
“Let’s not talk about my mom right now.”
Moments later she’s got my cock out and is rolling the condom on as my hands yank down her panties. When they reach her ankles, she lifts one high-heeled boot out of them, and I grab her leg behind the knee and hook it over my hip. This isn’t ideal. She’s still in the dress, albeit bunched up at her waist, and I’m fully clothed, although my pants and underwear are at my ankles. I can’t see her fully, and I can’t worship her. It’s not at all my ultimate fantasy, but it’s better than nothing. Because truth be told, I’ve had a crush on Ellery Isles since I first laid eyes on her.
I hold her leg around my waist and cup her face with my other hand, directing our mouths together as I waste no time slamming into her. It’s fast and dirty and too much and not enough. Ellery is whispering things into our kiss. “Harder. Deeper. You’re so fucking big. My pussy won’t recover until New Year’s, Captain. I’m going to fuck myself to the memory of you doing this for a very long time.”
“I would have done it sooner if I knew you wanted it.”
“Captain, who doesn’t want you?”
“From the woman who makes every jock strap in a locker room too tight the minute she walks in.” I nip her neck as I lift her other leg off the ground. “Wrap both legs around me, Elle. Hold tight while I make you come.”
She whimpers, bites her bottom lip, and obeys. I have never fought a harder battle, on or off the ice, than I am fighting right now, trying to keep my orgasm at bay until she comes. And when Ellery finally lets out a breathy sigh, and her body tightens around me, and she pants out “Jay,” I know she’s gone, and I jump off that cliff of ecstasy right after her.
