Page 3 of Hat Trick Heart

“It didn’t matter. All that mattered was getting you to agree to this.”

“Fine. I’m here. Let the games begin!” I holler, pumping my fist in the air.

“That’s the attitude.”

Before I can think too much about it, I see a guy out on the ice look over at us. He’s big. I mean, they all are but this guy seems super-big. And he’s got all this gear on that makes it hard to get a look at him. But when he looks up from where he’s lining up with another guy facing him and two more guys from his team flanking him by a red circle, I can see his bright green eyes and I still, my breath even freezing in my throat.

“Who are you looking at?”

I point shakily over to the line and she smiles. “You’ve got good taste. That’s the center, Emile. But they call him Frostbite. I’m assuming because he tears the other guys apart… I’m not really sure.”

But the whole time she’s talking I watch him and he stands up, his gaze locked on mine. I can’t breathe. Can’t feel my fingers, my toes. All I feel is my own heart pounding in my chest and the rush of my blood in my veins.

I see the official with him saying stuff and he seems to jerk back to himself. And then the puck hits the ice and the screaming around me jerks me back to the present.

I watch as his big body hammers into another guy and then they go at it. He gets the puck and drives forward, the other guys flanking him. One of the other team powers forward so fast that he’s a fucking blur and then he grabs the puck from the first guy.

The whole game is a nail-bitingly intense game of chess at high speeds and with extreme bodily contact.

I wince when he gets slammed into the barrier around us, hell right in front of us. I can hear the grunt of his air rushing out of his lungs although I have no idea why! It’s loud as hell and he’s not screaming, he’s grunting.

But it doesn’t matter. I still hear him and that pisses me off. I can feel my body melting, straining towards him.

I tell that hussy to knock it off. “You don’t like these big, violent kinds of guys.”

But no matter how much I tell her that, she doesn’t listen and my pussy throbs. The other guy pulls off of him and he stands there for a minute, staring at me, his big hand on the barrier. I walk forward like I’m in a trance and my hand lifts, looking tiny alongside his huge paw. His green eyes lock on me and I breathlessly stare at him.

But then one of his buddies comes up and taps his arm and he turns away. It feels like the first time I can take a whole breath and I scramble out of the box hollering that I’ll be right back.

When I reach the top of that arena, I look back and I swear his eyes lock on me immediately and I can feel their laser warmth from here.

I don’t bother with checking in with Becca. Just make a run for it. I can’t be here. I call for an Uber and run away.

My heart doesn’t quit racing until hours later when I can finally close my eyes and rest.

Hockey is way too dangerous. Becca’s pissed at me because I took off but there was just no way I could be around that guy. Not watching him skate around that ice like an elegant assassin. Not while his eyes locked on mine and hypnotized me.

Not while my whole body felt alive whenever I saw him move. I’m not sure what my problem is, but the best thing to do was get the hell away from him. I don’t need or want a jock.

Not even one that looks like a god among men.

I’ve got to remember that all men are the same.

Trouble.

2

EMILE

I rip my gloves off my hands and glare at the locker door as I slam it shut. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me. This week has been an absolute mess since we played the Texas Tankers last week. We lost so bad it wasn’t funny but that wasn’t the worst part.

I saw her. I don’t know who the hell she is but I can’t seem to forget about her. Her auburn hair gleamed in the arena lighting like a copper penny and when I locked eyes with her, hers were the most perfect shade of blue I’ve ever seen in my life. So light and bright that they looked like ice chips on a sunny day.

I shake myself and groan, palming my aching cock which is pushing damn hard against my cup and killing me.

“Hey, LaCourt! Get your ass back here!” The coach’s sharp voice grinds on my nerves and I groan.

Alexie grunts next to me and pats my shoulder so hard he almost slams me to the floor. “Coach is not happy.”

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