Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 124494 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 498(@250wpm)___ 415(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124494 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 498(@250wpm)___ 415(@300wpm)
Her long, thick hair is pulled back in a french braid. Another inconvenient and highly stimulating memory from our weekend together floats to the surface. She was braiding her hair before we got in the hot tub, and I stepped in and took over. She’d been putty in my hands after that. So pliant, so eager to do whatever I asked. The control she gave me was a heady drug. I couldn’t get enough of it. Of her.
I’ve spent the past three years obsessing over her, and suddenly she’s here, in my world. I don’t know how to handle this, and it’s all coming out as anger. But it’s a mask for the disappointment that followed waking up alone in that hotel bed with no explanation as to why. And seeing her here like this? It’s the mindfuck of all mindfucks. No one ends up coaching the pros if they’re not fully obsessed with hockey, but the woman I spent the weekend with didn’t so much as mention the sport.
“Get a grip.” I skate to the net, where Ryker is waiting for me.
He tips his head. “Sorry, what was that?”
I force a smile. Ryker doesn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of my bad mood. “You feeling good today?”
“A little tense in the locker room, but hoping the energy shifts now that we’re on the ice.”
“I’m sure it will.” Although I’m not convinced. Everything feels off.
Ryker and I warm up with stretches while coaches Vander Zee, Boxer, Thomas, and Forrester refer to their clipboards. Forrester will work with Ralph on defense. And me. And Ryker. It’s all too close for comfort.
Grace is warming up next to a rookie player. Madden and Stiles are across from them, and Bright and Palaniappa are to my right.
The coaches break and Lexi—Coach Forrester—glides across the ice, her braid swinging as she heads for Grace.
Everyone’s eyes seem to follow her. I sure as hell can’t look away as she comes to a stop a few feet away from the newest, not entirely welcome member of our team, Grace.
Madden and Stiles move closer, bringing them within earshot of Grace and Coach Forrester. Grace is in the middle of an inner-thigh stretch, which, granted, makes it look like he’s humping the ice. That’s how everyone looks doing that stretch. The number of viral videos featuring warm-up stretches is unreal. His gaze lifts slowly, taking in Coach Forrester’s long, athletic thighs—which I’ve had wrapped around my waist and my head. I shake off another memory because hard-ons in a cup are uncomfortable.
“Hey, Coach, you wanna give me a hand with my stretches?” Grace smirks as he hops to his feet.
The rookie beside him looks shocked as hell.
Unfamiliar rage shoots heat down my spine. I don’t think, just act as I move in their direction, but Palaniappa grabs my jersey.
“Get your fucking hands off me,” I growl in a tone I don’t recognize.
Palaniappa releases me immediately and raises his hands. “Whoa, buddy. Where’s your head?”
Before I can tell him to mind his own business and back off, Madden slams into Grace, knocking him off his skates as he shouts, “That’s our fucking coach, dickbag!”
Grace grabs the front of Madden’s jersey and says something none of us can hear. But whatever it is, it sends Madden off the deep end. His fist connects with Grace’s jaw before Stiles, Bright, and Palaniappa pull him off.
“Enough!” Coach Forrester blows her whistle.
“You can’t let Grace get away with that shit,” I snap.
Coach Forrester turns my way. She arches one sexy brow and levels me with a glare. “Are you the coach now, Goalie? You want me in your net?”
The answer is actually yes. I poke my cheek with my tongue.
She turns back to Grace and Madden. “This. Whatever it is, it stops now.”
“You heard what he said,” Madden grumbles irritably.
“That’s enough, Madden.” Forrester waits.
Madden drops his head.
“Grace, if I hear a comment like that come out of your mouth again, you will be facing a suspension. Do you think that’s funny? Do you think it’s appropriate to talk to Vander Zee or any other coach like that? Absolutely not. Worse, would you talk to your grandmother like that?”
“No, Coach.” Grace hangs his head like a scolded child, face red with embarrassment as he skates away from Madden, moving closer to Vander Zee and Forrester.
“I am here to be part of this team. If you’re not looking to treat this staff or your teammates with respect, get off my ice.” She turns to Madden. “Don’t pretend your chivalry is on my behalf. You’re looking for any reason to go off on Grace. It’s unprofessional and childish.”
“That’s not…” He stops talking when she tilts her head and his cheeks flush.
This woman is something else. I experienced some of her sass and her fire in New York, but this is different. She’s stepping into her role, showing these boys who’s the boss. And it’s sexy as hell.