Page 2 of Heartless Game

Head in the game, Jones, I reminded myself.

Just in time, because Jack caught my eyes through his cage. He then deked to the right, distracting Colson’s defensemen, before passing the puck to me.

I caught it with my stick, charging toward the goal.

We were down to ten seconds left of the game.

One, two, three, four…on the fifth glide, I slapped the puck straight into the net, an inch over the goalie’s right glove.

The horn sounded, signaling the goal, and our win. As the crowd roared, chanting, “Jones, Jones, Jones,” my team surrounded me, knocking chests and slapping me on the shoulder. In the past, the crowd’s ecstatic celebration as they cheered for me would’ve been all I needed to be happy. I loved the game. The feeling of the ice under my skates, the competition and challenge of pushing myself harder than my opponents, the joy of winning and being one with my team—it meant everything.

Lately though, it dimmed in comparison toher.My compulsive obsession with Tovah Kaufman was fucking with my equilibrium. My happiness. And my control. I hated it, which made it easier to hate her.

Like right now. I tried to celebrate with my teammates, but it was half-hearted. I was too distracted. As I took my perfunctory victory lap, I pulled my helmet off my head, brushing back my sweaty hair, and zeroed in on her.

Tovah was typing away on her phone. Probably working on an article forThe Daily Queen, Reina U’s newspaper. Tovah was the sports editor, but I’d heard they were short-staffed so she was taking on story assignments that usually would have gone to someone else. I couldn’t take my eyes off the little journalist, or her big tits and lush hips. Some might have called the aspiring journalist fat. I called her a pain in the ass—a gorgeous pain in the ass. She was curve after curve after curve, and it made me crazy how badly I wanted to carve my name into every single one of them.

She’d dyed her hair a hot, daring pink since I’d last seen her.

I fucking hated that color.

As if she’d heard my thought, Tovah looked up at me. I couldn’t see the color of her eyes from this far away, but I knew they were a soft brown. I’d seen them in my dreams too damn often. She tilted her sweet, heart-shaped face to the side as her friend Aviva leaned over and said something to her. Then her eyes shot forward, catching mine and holding them. Pink lips, the same in-your-face color as her hair, turned down and she shook her head at me.

I hate you,she mouthed.

Then smirked.

Fuck, I’d give anything to wipe that smirk off her face.

Ideally with the crown of my cock before I shoved it down her throat and choked her with it.

What was it about this woman? What was it about her that brought out the darkness I’d buried deep—so deep I didn’t recognize it?

Lost in my head and her eyes, I skated toward her. I didn’t have a plan, didn’t know what the hell I was doing, just wanted to drive the point home that she meant nothing to me.

You’re the fucking worst,she mouthed, clearly not done.

I’ll show you the fucking worst,I mouthed back and winked, making sure to smile so she could see my dimples. For whatever reason, seeing them always seemed to piss her off, and I planned to take full advantage of that discovery.

Even from ten feet away, I could see her cheeks flush pink. Now,thatwas a pink I liked. That was a pink I wanted to see all over her body when I tied her to my bed and?—

Holy fucking hell.What was wrong with me?

But then she’d had this effect on me since the first time I’d seen her.

“Isaac Jones! Isaac Jones!” a young voice called from behind the glass, redirecting my attention.

A kid, about seven or eight, was jumping up and down, holding up a white cardboard sign that said, “Jones is the boss.” The woman next to him waved at me timidly. She was pretty, with curly blonde hair and blue eyes, and usually I’d consider flirting my way between her thighs, but unfortunately these days, my cock only got hard for one woman.

I skated over to them.

“Hey,” I greeted the kid.

“Ohmygodohmygod. Mr. Jones, you’re my idol. My hero. I want to be you when I grow up!” the little kid cheered. He was so excited, tears filled his eyes.

“Well, thank you. What’s your name?” I asked.

He puffed out his chest. “Charlie. Will you sign my poster?”

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