Devious Obsession: A Dark Hockey Romance (Hockey Gods)

I tell Thalia everything. That my mom spontaneously got married at the beginning of the summer to a guy she met in Vegas, that she moved me and my two sisters into the rich fucker’s house. That her new husband has two sons, neither of which showed up over the summer… and then the worst part.

That he offered me the chance to go to CPU, which wasn’t exactly a dream school of mine, but he was offering to pay. Mom urged me to take the chance, because I worked my ass off to pay my way through community college. She said graduating from college debt-free is a gift that not many twenty-somethings get, and I should take advantage. Especially when I never got off the waitlist from my top choice.

But this gift came with strings:

That I should find my way into his son’s good graces.

That I should answer when he calls, answer his questions, and… well, spy, as Steele so elegantly put it.

It made me sick, and that was before I ever set foot on the CPU campus.

“Wow,” Thalia says, flopping back on my bed. “That’s twisted.”

“They clearly don’t have a relationship,” I mumble.

She grunts her agreement.

“So… I have to spy on a guy who hates me.”

She glances at me. “Do you think he meant the part about tormenting you?”

I shrug. If he did, I’ll just have to bear it. Steele’s a senior—he’s graduating this year. Which means my senior year will be easy. I just need to get through two years of college, and then I’ll be home free. If I can get a job with an orchestra before then, I’ll drop out and leave everything behind.

Except…

“He said his goal was to get me to drop out.”

“And?”

I frown. “Now that he said it, I want to do the opposite.”

She laughs. “Of course you do. Okay, we should get up. We’re going to be late.” She pats my leg and sits up.

I heave another sigh—dramatic, yes—and follow her into the bathroom. We do our makeup side by side, and she moves over so I can brush my teeth. My nerves are a mess. I don’t do well with threats, I never have. He makes me anxious.

Which is probably exactly what he wants.

Back in my room, I grab dark jeans and an olive-green sweatshirt. I put in little earrings and clip up the top half of my hair, pulling the loose ends over my shoulders. A necklace, a few rings, and I’m ready.

Thalia waits for me by the door, her bag slung over her shoulder. “Ready for battle?”

“As I’ll ever be,” I answer lightly.

The nerves get worse when I’m on campus. But I make it through my first two classes, then the last of the day. Everything is… normal. No weird looks, no out-of-the-ordinary texts.

It isn’t until I get to the student center with Thalia that the dread picks up again. Because Steele is lounging against the entrance to the dining hall, an apple in his hand. And when he spots me, he slowly straightens.

“Uh-oh,” Thalia murmurs. “Um, do you need backup?”

“Nope, let’s ignore him.”

I get as far as holding my ID out to the dining hall worker—but before she can take it, he snatches it out of my fingers. I turn to him, my jaw dropping. He’s already striding away.

Gritting my teeth, I face the worker.

“Sorry, honey, I can’t let you in without swiping. It’s policy.” She seems apologetic… but completely unmoving.

Thalia is already inside, and she takes a step in my direction.

I hold up my hand. “It’s okay,” I call. “I’ll go get it.”

He’s disappeared through the doors to the stairwell, and I march after him. I hear his footsteps on the landing above me once I’m in it, the sound echoing down to me. I hurry after him and round the landing between the floors.

I almost bowl right into him, and he grabs my shoulders.

His smile is alarming. On the edge of cruel. And he walks me back to the edge of the step I just walked up, until my heels are off it.

“Maybe I should just push you down the stairs and be done with you,” he muses, almost to himself.

I grab his wrists. “You wouldn’t.”

He shoves my shoulders back, and I yelp. Only my grip on his wrists keeps me from tumbling. The noise bounces around us as he drags me forward again.

“I could, though.” He sneers. “Right now, you’re at my mercy. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Nothing compared to you at mine,” I counter.

“Is your rags-to-riches story worth a year of suffering?” He tilts his head. His fingers move up, catching on the strap of my bag. And in an instant, he has it off my arm.

I lunge for it, but he blocks me. He seems completely unbothered as he unzips it one-handed and tips the contents out.

Books, sheet music, notebooks. Loose papers from class. Pens and pencils I had just left at the bottom, not bothering to shove them in a case. It all comes tumbling out.

The notebooks and books slide down the stairs, thumping with every step.

The papers go everywhere. Some slip through the railings and flutter all the way down.

He steps on one. One of the pages of sheet music I was planning on learning this week. He picks it up and squints at it, a scowl forming.

“What do you play?”

“Piano,” I say, crossing my arms and backing away from the ledge. I only stop when my ass hits the railing against the wall. “Why do you care?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t. Just gathering ammunition.”

My throat closes. His gaze lingers on me, dropping down to my breasts.

“Show me your tits,” he orders.

“What?”

He drops the sheet music and moves toward me slowly, his fingers deftly undoing his belt.

“Show me your tits, Aspen, and I won’t piss on your backpack.” He points to the bag at his feet. “Clock’s ticking…”

I close my eyes and shove my shirt up. Anyone could come into the stairwell and witness this.

“Bra,” he says, but it comes out on a sharp exhale. “Take your fucking bra off.”

I open my eyes—and my mouth, ready to retort—when I notice that his cock is in his hand. And his hand is currently sliding up and down its impressive length. His thumb runs over the tip with every pass, smearing the precum that leaks out.

Why is he turned on by this?

Better question—why am I?

My fingers shake as I reach behind me and unclasp my bra. It takes a second to get it off my arms, then it falls to the floor. He stares at me with an intense expression, all the fire in his gaze that I remember from the party mixed with anger. He’s closer to me, too. If I wanted, I could reach out and touch him. But I don’t, so I curl my fingers around the railing and wait.

My nipples pebble in the cool air, and a chill sweeps up my back.

He tugs harder on his dick, and I open my mouth to ask what the fuck the reasoning behind this is. But then he groans, and his cock jerks. His cum spills out, hitting my bare skin. Ropes of it cross my stomach, my bare breasts. He gets it on the waistband of my jeans and on my shirt, not that he gives a shit.

He smirks, nodding to me, and before I can move, he has his phone out.

He takes a picture of me.

I make a noise in the back of my throat and tug my shirt down, ignoring how it feels to slide against the wetness on my skin. The fabric immediately sticks. I pull my sweatshirt down, too, and reach for my bra.

Steele’s foot lands on it a second before I can grab it.

“That’s mine,” he says.

I scowl at him, but he bends down and snags it, folding the material and tucking it into his own bag, which sits out of harm’s way on the stairs above.

“I need my ID back,” I finally say, because I don’t even know where to start with him. The picture, the backpack, the complete insanity of this moment…

He pulls it from his pocket and tosses it at my feet, a smug smile secured on his stupid fucking face. He blows me a kiss and heads down the steps, kicking more of my things down as he goes. Above us, the door on the second-floor crashes open.

“We should do this again sometime,” Steele calls over his shoulder.

“In your dreams,” I retort. Because, damn it. I walked right into this—and then let it happen. Like a freaking moron.

Next time, I’ll be smarter. I’ll do better.

I’ve got to, or else he really will run me out of this school.

Hours later, I trudge into the dining hall for dinner with a mixture of foreboding and anticipation. The dance team and hockey team both have practice, which means this is the perfect time to sneak in, eat, and run back to the library.

This afternoon, I made the disgraced walk back home, hoping that no one could tell that my bra was missing, or that I smelled like a cheap whore. I’d never taken as hot of a shower as I did today, scrubbing my skin eight times before finally getting out.

The embarrassed part of me wanted to stay home. But unfortunately, I have a paper due that requires more than just a textbook. Which means: library.

“Can I sit?”

I look up from my plate of food. A guy stands in front of me, plate and drink in hand. He’s cute and vaguely familiar…

“We met at the party at Erik’s,” he offers.

I snap my fingers. He’s the one Steele scared away.

“Sure,” I agree.

He sets his stuff down and drags the chair out across from me, dropping into it with a smile. “Chase King,” he introduces, extending his hand. “Aspen, right?”

“Yep. Monroe.” I take his hand and shake it, my cheeks heating. When’s the last time a guy shook my hand? “What brings you to my neck of the woods?”

He grins. “I saw a beautiful girl sitting by herself. Isn’t that reason enough?”

“Nope.” I set down my fork and lean forward. “Pretty sure that’s just judging a book by its cover, don’t you think? That was outlawed a few years back.”

He’s got blond hair and piercing blue eyes. The type of guy who girls like me are supposed to fall for. The popular football player with the heart of gold, or whatever.

“I hate to break it to you, Aspen, but everybody still judges books by their covers. It’s simple marketing.” He braces his forearms on the table. “But why are you sitting alone, is the question?”

“My roommate is at dance.” And I haven’t made any more friends.

He nods. “Yeah, mine decided to hit the gym after practice. Our coach was not pleased with their performance.”

“But he was with yours?”

“Of course.” He pauses and glances around. “This is a little off the cuff, but I was wondering if you’d want to get coffee with me tomorrow morning?”

I sit up straighter. “Why?”

“Because we had a conversation going at Erik’s party before O’Brien snatched you away.” His eyes darken. “And I was hoping to reignite that conversation…”

The blush that is probably taking over my whole face is hot. I swallow carefully, not sure how to respond. Did I have an okay time at the party before Steele showed up? Yes. Did the little card game with Steele make it better? Yes. Did I like that Steele scared him away? Unfortunately, yes.

“You let Steele scare you off,” I reply instead. “What happens if he tries again?”

Chase shakes his head. “I was a dumbass. It won’t happen again.”

I extend my hand again. “Okay, deal.”

“Deal?”

“I’ll get coffee with you tomorrow as long as Steele doesn’t chase you off.”

“Puns,” he murmurs. He takes my hand again. This time, he doesn’t shake it. He just holds onto it and squeezes gently.

And it’s nothing like how Steele O’Brien would touch me. The exact opposite, if we’re being honest.

Why does that disappoint me?