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“Holy fuck,” I muttered beneath my breath.
Her juicy, heart-shaped bottom jutted up and outward, just daring you totryto look away. I certainly couldn’t. My hand instinctively opened, as if I simplyhadto bring my open palm down on her ass,crack, just to watch it jiggle.
Good lord.Who is she?
My first thought was that she had to be one of the boy’s girlfriends I hadn’t met yet. Professional athletes tend to date stunners like this girl, as you can imagine. But no, that couldn’t be the case; if this girl were dating one of the boys, she’d be sitting in the family suite with the rest of the wives and girlfriends.
Instead of making my way to the plaza-level seats, I circled back to the bar to grab a beer.
Should I go talk to her?I wondered, stealing glances from afar.
But what would I even say? I was out of practice; I’d been out of the game since the divorce. Some people might find it hard to believe, but youcanbe a player in the National Hockey League without being a player offthe ice.
One look at her, though, and suddenly, I started to wonder what I’d been missing out on all this time. My heart sputtered and coughed like an old engine firing up for the first time in years—but once it caught, it purred as smooth as ever.
Fuck it, what do you have to lose?I asked myself, pounding what was left of my beer.Give it a shot. Ask for her number. If you strike out, you can laugh about it with Johnny afterward.
I hopped off the bar stool, a racing in my chest as I approached her—was I actuallynervous?Fuck. I hadn’t been nervous about approaching a girl since my teen days. But wow, what a beauty this girl was. Her skin glowed with a dewy sheen, and I was dying to know just how soft and silky she would feel to the touch.
Jeez,what I’d do for a woman like that. I’d give anything.
I stood next to her. She wore heels, which brought her up to my collarbone. She didn’t notice me—she was too focused on the game. For a second, I worried I might not be able to speak, because my thumping heart had lodged itself in my throat.
“Hey there,” I said.
She turned and time froze as our eyes locked. Her eyes looked so familiar—but why?
I solved the mystery an instant later: way back in the day, when I was just a little kid, the NHL used to paint their ice the loveliest shade of light blue, instead of the white ice we play on today. Point is, this young woman’s eyes were thatexactshade of blue. In an instant, those ice-blues transported me back through time and made me feel young again. She had the prettiest eyes I’d ever seen in my life.
“Rust?!” I wasn’t surprised she knew my name—everyone else around here seemed to, too. But she looked surprised, no,confusedto see me. Quickly, she whipped her head in the direction of the ice. Her hair swished through the air in front of my face, filling my senses with a warm, intoxicating scent, like vanilla. She jerked her head back to me again. “What areyoudoing here? Aren’t you supposed to be playing?”
“I got the night off, actually,” I said, acting like I was taking my scratch in stride. As if I wasn’t dying inside before I set my eyes on her. “Scratched.”
“Oh, no! I’m so sorry.” She reached out and touched my forearm. I liked the feel of her small hand on me. I liked it a lot, actually. I wanted her hands all over me—better yet, I wanted my hands all overher.“I know how much you guys want to play every single game,” she said, tossing her hair over her shoulders.
Her round breasts looked like a perfect handful, and something inside mebeggedme to steal a glance. I couldn’t fight the urge anymore—my eyes brazenly wandered down her neckline for a quick peek.
Damn.They were amazing. So perky and firm and full. And it took every ounce of willpower I had to pry my eyes away before a peekturned into a stare.
“It’s alright. Suddenly, I don’t mind being scratched,” I said.
She giggled. “Why’s that?”
“I think I’d rather be up here with you.”
A burst of shocked laughter escaped her. “Well!Rust, I—I don’t know what to say.”
Was she actually surprised I’d be hitting on her? Why, because I was an athlete? C’mon. If anything, she was out of my league. Hell, I was washed up, but she was in her prime.
“How about I get you a drink, then?” I asked, touching my hand to the small of her back. “Might help loosen those pretty lips of yours.”
“Well,I’dlike that, but—” She hesitated, snagging her bottom lip between her teeth. “I don’t think my dad would be too happy if he saw me drinking, Rust.”
“Your dad …?” I murmured, my eyes narrowing.
Who said anything about her dad?
That’s when reality hit me.
