Marek (Cold Fury Hockey #11)(75)
The fashion thing I get right away. I’ve dated enough women and paid for enough designer bags and shoes to know that Brooke is very much into high-quality retail. However, her refusal to let a man buy her a drink tells me she’s also independent, so she may not be into a man buying her those things.
Honestly, I wasn’t into it either—buying someone I was dating something expensive. I did it, I guess, as sort of a thank-you, and it was something they’d wanted. I did it knowing exactly what it meant to them. The women I date—and that most professional athletes date—are in it for the lavish lifestyle I can provide with even grander hopes it could be a permanent thing one day.
It’s just the way it is.
“So what does this fashion magazine kind of girl do for a living?” I ask her, getting settled into the type of conversation that I hope will spark enough of a connection that I’ll be fucking her later.
Her smile is neither coy nor flirty, but as direct as her gaze. “I do event planning. What about you?”
“Sounds exciting,” I say, having no goddamn clue what that even means.
She shrugs. “That remains to be seen. I just relocated out here.”
Funny. So did I.
Now would be a good time for me to wow and amaze this woman with the fact that I’m a professional hockey player, and I just moved here to join the newly franchised team, the Arizona Vengeance. And you know, if it puts her in my bed all the more quicker, so fucking be it.
I shoot a quick glance down the bar where I’d left Dax, my teammate who joined me here in Phoenix direct from our positions with the New York Vipers. The Vengeance is the first team that’s been added to the league in eighteen years and I’m not overly thrilled to be here. This year the Vipers are poised to give the Carolina Cold Fury a solid run for their money for the championship, and to now suddenly to be moved out west to an expansion team has not made me happy. It’s why a night fucking my brains out with this gorgeous creature would be a great way to end my summer vacation before training camp starts tomorrow.
Dax is talking to a woman—leaning intimately close—and I’m guessing he’s going to be getting lucky tonight. My eyes come back to Brooke, and I decide to leverage my star status to move things along. If my gut is right about this sexy-as-fuck lady, it’s going to be a long night.
Before I can even tell her about how I’m a hot-as-shit right winger, she leans into me and places a hand on my thigh. “Bishop?”
I swallow hard, frozen by the softly suggestive tone in her voice and because her eyes seem to glow golden as she stares at me. “Yeah?”
“I’m going to be honest,” she murmurs from way down deep in her throat. “I came out tonight looking to have some fun. I’m homesick and out of sorts, and don’t know anyone around here other than a coworker I met today and who stood me up. I’ve had three of these daiquiris and I’m feeling frisky. Do you have any interest in getting out of here?”
Jesus fucking Christ. I just scored the jackpot of all jackpots. The absolute most gorgeous, hottest woman in this place tonight and I didn’t even put forth an ounce of effort other than to remember The Count of Monte Cristo. My eyes cut to her drink glass. “Three of those?”
“I’m not drunk,” she says as she starts to pull her hand away.
My hand clamps down on to hers, holding it tight to my thigh. My muscles leap under her touch. “Didn’t say you were, and I figure I’ll know soon enough when you get off that stool and start to walk. Just want to make sure you don’t wake up with regrets.”
She appears to be fine. Her speech is clear and our conversation was quick and natural. Some women would be blitzed on three drinks. Others would be okay.
“I never have regrets,” she tells me while lifting her chin.
I stare at her a moment, gauging the truth in her words and the way she holds my gaze without blinking. There is nothing I want more in this moment than to go home with this woman and make her come over and over again.
But more than that, for some reason I just don’t want her to regret it.
Finally, I give her hand a short squeeze as I stand up from my stool. I help her alight from hers. “Let’s get out of here. Just need to let my buddy know I’m leaving and then I’m all yours for the rest of the night.”
“Perfect,” she says, flashing me a blinding grin in return. Christ, those teeth are as perfect as the rest of her. Can’t wait to feel them scrape down my cock, because I sure as hell plan on using my teeth on her. Biting down on my lower lip—hoping the pain will stop me from coming—I grab hold of Brooke’s hips and try to slow her motion as she rides me.
I have to admit, I was genuinely confused as to what type of lover Brooke would be. She propositioned me in the bar and didn’t bat an eye when I suggested her place rather than mine since Dax is my roommate and he called dibs on our apartment when I told him I was leaving.
But in my car, she shyly told me that she didn’t have any condoms and we’d have to make a stop. I wasn’t chagrined when I told her I was covered because what self-respecting single dude doesn’t go out prepared?
Turns out, her boldness in seeking out a one-night stand didn’t strictly translate into the bedroom. She was borderline timid when we first started making out, but by the time we were naked, she was grinding down onto my fingers as she came for the first time. Brooke yanked hard on my hair as she groaned out a primal release and demanded, “I want that again.”