Meet Your Match (Kings of the Ice)

The Inner Harbor in Baltimore reminded me of Tampa’s Riverwalk, the lights of the city serving as a backdrop and reflecting off the water. Except I would have been sweating in Tampa, even though it was early November.

In Baltimore, I was shivering.

Vince and I walked quietly side by side, and I thought that was what he’d brought me here for. When the car had dropped us off and he’d just started strolling, I assumed that was it. He just wanted a walk to clear his head.

I was wishing I’d worn more comfortable shoes — and a heavier coat.

But we didn’t walk more than a hundred yards before he turned us toward a dock, and he shook hands with a man halfway down it before climbing aboard a boat.

Although, calling it a boat felt silly.

It was more like a small yacht.

I shook my head in disbelief at the pristine luxury of it — the crisp white hull gleaming under the moonlight, the plush leather seating area surrounding a hot tub, the tables covered in a spread of hors d’oeuvres. Vince watched my expression as the captain introduced himself to me, along with the crew, and then Vince and I were handed glasses of champagne and given a tour. We ended it at the front of the ship, Vince taking a seat on one of the couches while I sat in a chair across from him. The teak was gorgeous, the deck furniture more expensive than all my belongings combined.

“How on Earth did you manage to get a yacht chartered at almost midnight?” I asked when we were alone, the crew working to get us off the dock and out into the harbor.

“Gary is a friend of Bobby’s,” he explained on a shrug, referring to our captain. I remembered Bobby well enough — especially the stories he shared about Vince in college. If I’d had any doubt that Tampa’s shiny new toy hid his playboy activities behind his well-curated façade, it was obliterated with Bobby’s recounting of their days at Michigan.

James had been like that.

He had a shiny reputation on campus, and even more so when it came to the media that followed his college career as he worked toward being invited to play in the PGA Tour when he graduated. He was one of the few amateurs who received an invite to play at the Masters, and he’d made the cut, which had everyone in a tizzy about him and his future.

To everyone who thought they knew him, he was an All-American boy next door. But I’d seen him not-so-covertly check out another woman’s ass as he put his arm around me. I’d watched him wink and flirt with girls on campus as he signed autographs, only to quickly kiss me and tell me it was all for show. I’d seen him play in charity tournaments, only to make fun of the poor and complain about taxes with his buddies at the country club.

So many red flags, and yet I’d ignored them all — because I thought I was the exception to the rule. I thought I was the girl who broke the mold. I thought he was telling the truth when he said he was loyal to me, that we had forever in our hands.

I shivered, the past as icy cold as the air sweeping through my hair.

“Don’t you think this is an activity a little more well-suited for Tampa?” I asked, wrapping the blanket one of the stews had given me tightly around my shoulders. “It’s freezing.”

“We have the hot tub,” Vince said in way of a solution.

“Right. And no swimwear.”

“Who needs swimwear?”

I snorted a laugh, but Vince downed the last of his champagne with his eyes locked on mine. Then, he stood.

He shrugged off his jacket first, kicking his shoes off at the same time. Next, he reached one hand back over his head, gripping his long-sleeve shirt by the neck and tearing it off in one smooth pull.

The city lights cast him in a soft glow — his lean abs and arms, his chest, the unmistakable cut of muscles that made a V, the apex of which was still hidden by his joggers. The corner of his mouth lifted when I didn’t look away, and he pulled his joggers down next, kicking them off his ankles before removing his socks.

In nothing but a pair of black briefs, Vince stood on the deck of that yacht like he owned it. His thick thighs stretched the fabric, and it didn’t seem to bother him that it was freezing. I could see the outline of him, thick and proud, his cock so big it looked like he’d stuffed his pants.

When he slid his thumbs beneath the waistband, I looked up at the sky just in time to hear him shed that last bit of clothing. I thought I also heard him chuckle before there was the distinct sound of a body wading into water.

When I was mostly sure it was safe to look again, I brought my eyes back to the hot tub — where Vince was reclining, his arms draped over the edges, hazel eyes watching me.

“You joining me?” he asked, the steam wafting around him.

“Keep dreaming.”

He shrugged. “Suit yourself. This water is perfect.” He almost purred the words, sinking down more into the hot tub with a groan. His eyes fluttered shut. “And we have the boat for three hours.”

I clenched my teeth as a particularly brisk wind whipped through my hair then. Even Mother Nature was playing dirty.

“But I guess you have your blanket,” he said, his eyes still closed. “That should keep you warm enough.”

His smile grew an inch.

“You’re so sure of yourself, aren’t you?” I scoffed.

“I’m sure you’ll have more fun in here with me than out there in that wind.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

He smiled even wider, and I was thankful there wasn’t a light in that hot tub because from this angle, I was pretty sure I’d be able to see everything.

When we made it out of the harbor, the wind picked up even more, and I curled in on myself, teeth chattering. Even with the third glass of champagne I eagerly downed, hoping it would bring a little warmth, there was no use.

I was a Popsicle.

“Fine,” I gritted out, standing and reluctantly shrugging off my blanket. “T-turn around and c-close your eyes.”

“I like it when you’re bossy,” Vince said, and I flicked him off before he did what I asked.

Quickly, I undressed, leaving my thong and bra on. I figured I could change and get home without them under my clothes later, but it seemed pressing to not get into that hot tub naked with Vince Tanev.

The water stung at first when I stepped in, prickling my skin until I was fully submerged. When I was, I let out a long sigh of relief. The water was perfectly warm.

“Aren’t you glad you didn’t let your stubbornness win?” Vince asked, turning to look at me. I didn’t miss how his eyes immediately went to my tits, and he almost looked disappointed to find them covered.

I splashed him.

For a while we sat in a comfortable silence, relaxing in the bubbling water. I didn’t realize I let out another long sigh until I opened my eyes and found Vince looking at me.

“You needed this.”

I was tempted to argue with him, but the water had me feeling more relaxed than I had in weeks. “Maybe I did.”

“Something wrong?”

“No,” I said on another sigh. “Just… a lot going on, I guess.”

“You need to unwind.”

I laughed. “Right, with all my free time.”

That made Vince frown, and I waved him off.

“I’m fine. I do yoga when I can, which helps, and this is all temporary. I’ll be back to my normal routine before I know it.”

I thought that made him frown even more, but he smiled so quickly on the edge of it that I couldn’t be sure.

“Turn around,” he said, moving slowly toward me. He was like a snake in the water, gliding through it, head just above the waterline, his muscular shoulders making a small wake.

“What are you doing?” I asked, backing away.

His hand caught my wrist under water, and he tugged me forward before spinning me to face the opposite way.

“You are a terrible listener,” he said in my ear.

Chills swept over me, and in the next breath, his massive hands were wrapped around my shoulders, thumbs kneading into the tense muscles.

I moaned so loudly my face flamed with embarrassment.

Vince paused only a second before continuing his delicious assault, and I had no choice but to melt into him. The water, his hands — it all felt so fucking good.

The silence was no longer comfortable.

It was heavy, weighted with something that made me want to run for my life. So I cleared my throat and reached for the first thing I could think of to break it.

“That was really sweet,” I said, biting back another groan that I wanted so desperately to release when he rubbed my sore rhomboids. All my focus was on not focusing on how Vince Tanev was naked behind me with his hands on my body. “What you did with the kids at that rink yesterday…”

“Just paying a visit to an old friend.”

My stomach soured a bit. “Yeah. Bobby seems to know you really well.”

He nodded. “We were close at Michigan. He’s a beast of a defenseman, just as good, if not better, than Brittzy.”

“Why didn’t he go pro?”

“He could have. He had teams who wanted him. He probably would have started in the AHL, though,” he said. “But even if they would have told him he could have come straight to the NHL, I don’t think he would have. Bobby has always wanted to coach, to be at that rink that helped him so much. Not everyone has parents who can afford to drop the kind of cash hockey requires.”

I let that sit for a moment, wincing as he dug his thumbs into my neck. I let my head fall back when he moved to my shoulders again.

“You’ve been off on this trip.”

It was a statement, not so much a question, and Vince didn’t answer for a long moment.

“I need to play better.”

I barked out a laugh. “Why, so you can win all three stars of the game instead of just one?”

“I didn’t score in either of these games,” he said.

“You had an assist.”

“It’s not the same.”

I pulled away, turning so I could face him. I immediately missed the feel of his hands on me — which was a problem in and of itself — but I wanted to look at him when I said, “You don’t have to carry the weight of the team on your shoulders.”

“No,” he agreed, his eyes glued to mine. “But I can play better.”

“You’re a perfectionist.”

“I just hold myself to a high standard.”

“That must be exhausting.”

He smiled, looking up at the sky before he looked at me again. “It’s the opposite, actually. I feel energized when I’m performing well, when I’m scoring goals and training hard. I feel my best when I’m performing on and off the ice.”

“What are you afraid of?”

The question seemed to catch him off guard, and Vince watched me for a long pause before he answered.

“Being worthless.”

I wasn’t expecting such an honest answer. In fact, I guess I’d been expecting a joke, because the vulnerability with which he said those words struck me like a bat against the head.

I frowned, and the longer I watched him, the more Vince shifted under my gaze. Eventually, he cleared his throat and motioned for me to turn around again, swirling his pointer finger in the air. When I did, he went back to massaging my shoulders.

I groaned. “God. This feels so good.”

“Still mad at me?”

I felt under the water for his side, and then pinched it hard enough to make him squirm away.

“Ow,” he said, pointedly.

“You deserved it.”

“Why? What’d I do?”

I didn’t humor him with a response, which made him let out a soft laugh.

“You really are tense,” he said, finding a particularly stubborn knot under my shoulder blade and digging into it. I hissed, but didn’t pull away, knowing I’d feel better once it was worked out.

“Yeah, well, let’s just say, I’m not used to your hours yet.”

“Tell me about your life. What did a normal day look like before you got this assignment?”

I sighed. “Well, I usually start my morning on my mat.”

“Yoga?”

I nodded. “And then coffee, of course.”

“Of course.”

“From there, it depends. On the weekends, I’m probably tending my garden, or spending time at the beach, or hitting a new brunch spot with Liv. Sundays start at the park, as you know. If it’s a weekday, I’m either in the office or out on the town, depending on what my job is that day.”

“Is this your dream job?”

I laughed. “I don’t know if I have a dream job.”

“Sure, you do. What would you do if money were no object, if your bills were paid and all you had to do was fill your time?”

A long moment passed before I found the words to answer.

“I don’t know.”

It was the most painful admission, one I was surprised I made. It dredged up the embarrassment I’d felt when I admitted that to James when we were together, how he’d judged me for it even before I realized that’s what he was doing.

People like him, like Vince, didn’t understand what it was like to not be born knowing exactly what you wanted to do with your entire life.

“My parents, they’ve always known their path,” I said. “They were in AmeriCorps together, shaping communities for the better. They dedicated an entire decade of their life after college before they got out and started making a life of their own. Now, Mom works with a women’s shelter, and Dad builds houses in communities where owning a home seems more like a pipe dream than a reality within reach. They brought me up with those same values, and I want to give back. I want to make Tampa, and the world, better.”

“But?”

I hated that he knew there was a but, and I was glad to be facing away from him, to not have those hazel eyes peering into mine when I answered.

“But I don’t necessarily love it the way they do. Don’t get me wrong,” I said hurriedly. “I enjoy giving back, I do. I love feeling connected to people, and making them feel valuable, worthwhile — reminding them they’re not alone. It’s just… I don’t know. I guess I just wish I had the same passion for it. I wish it fueled me the way it fuels my parents.” I paused. “You should have seen their faces when I told them I didn’t want to go into the Peace Corps. I think a small part of them died that day.”

“Does anything fuel you that way?” Vince asked.

I let out a long exhale, my heart squeezing. It felt so foolish to say the answer to that out loud. Because when I thought of what made me feel passionate, it was creating content — editing videos, getting the perfect photograph, creating presets that, in turn, create an entire vibe. I loved writing captions. I loved making something that went viral, that reached millions of people worldwide.

Right now, it was Vince Tanev and the Tampa Ospreys and hockey.

But maybe one day, it could be more.

Instead of saying any of that, I just shrugged.

Vince’s grip on me softened. “You don’t have to have it all figured out right now, you know?”

I nodded, but refrained from pointing out that he had it all figured out, and he was younger than me.

“What you do need,” he continued, moving to massage my neck again. “Is to relax.”

“Says the perfectionist.”

But my joke was cut short because Vince moved his hands from my neck into my hair, massaging the base of my skull.

I moaned, melting.

If his hands on my shoulders weren’t already enough to unravel me, feeling those massive fingers cradle my skull and massage my scalp was enough to make me spontaneously combust.

I couldn’t help but lean into the touch.

And in the process, my ass brushed against him, our skin connecting underwater and sparking an impossible fire.

Time stopped, Vince pausing only a moment before his hands were working again. I thought I heard him swallow, thought I heard his next breath come a bit more labored.

I didn’t pull away.

My heart thumped loud in my ears as we stayed like that, connected both with his hands in my hair and his thigh just barely brushing the bare skin of my ass. And when his hands moved down, fingertips gliding over my shoulders before disappearing under the water, I felt him grow hard behind me, his erection pressing into the small of my back.

And still, I didn’t pull away.

Those fingertips danced down the span of my arms, gliding back up before they were on my back. He touched me so softly it was almost like he wasn’t touching me at all, and yet I couldn’t let out the breath lodged in my throat.

He nuzzled the space behind my ear with the tip of his nose as his hands slid down lower, fingertips drawing a circle around the dimples at the small of my back. They found my hips next, pulling me flush against him, letting me feel what I did to him.

His breath was in my ear, louder now, more unsteady. He didn’t say a word as his fingers skated over the slim band of my thong, and then one hand pressed against my stomach as the other traveled farther up. Just the tip of one finger slipped beneath the band of my bra, and his cock twitched against my back.

“Fuck,” he whispered.

The sound was so raw, an admission and a prayer all at once, and it rumbled through me. My nipples peaked, thighs clenching together at the jolt of electricity I felt from that one little word.

His hand slid up just a fraction of an inch more, pushing my bra out of the way. I wondered if he could feel how hard my heart was pounding, if I was trembling as much as I felt like I was.

I held my breath, angling my chin toward him until I could taste his exhales. The tip of his nose ran along the back of my jaw, and just as he gently, barely cupped my breast, his tongue snaked out and licked my earlobe.

“More champagne?”

I tore away from Vince as the stewardess’s voice pierced the heavy night air. I was on the other end of the hot tub by the time her smiling face rounded the corner, and she offered a glass to Vince, who declined, before I took one and downed it.

“Unfortunately, we had to turn around to head back into the harbor. There is some weather coming in that we weren’t expecting. But you have a little more time to enjoy the hot tub, if you wish.”

As soon as she left, I climbed out of the whirlpool, not bothering to ask Vince to turn away. I just grabbed one of the towels rolled up on a chair and covered myself with it before swiping my clothes off the deck and retreating inside.

In the bathroom, I composed myself as much as I could, which was to say not much. I stared at my reflection in the mirror, at my hair, wild from having Vince’s hands in it, and my eyes, rimmed with my mascara.

I was so wet I didn’t know how I was going to go commando without soaking through my slacks.

Red flags. Red flags everywhere and yet still, I burned for that man just like every other simpering puck bunny.

I was as angry at myself as I was turned on.

I still hadn’t completely caught my breath when I re-emerged on the deck, and we were already pulling into the harbor. Vince was dressed, too, his hands in his pockets as he watched me.

I had plans to stay on the opposite end of the deck from where he was, but he crossed it, sidling up next to where I was leaning over the railing and watching the city glide by.

“I like what you posted tonight,” he said, as if he didn’t just have his hard cock pressed against my back, as if he hadn’t just tasted my skin and palmed me under my bra. “The video, it was cool.”

I’d put together a mashup of the two away games, matching the explosive hits of him pummeling an opponent into the glass or stealing a pass with the beat of the music.

“Glad you like it,” I said, still a bit breathless.

“You should post a picture of us.”

That got my attention.

“Um…”

“Here,” he said, and before I could react, he had my phone in his hand. He held it out to me to unlock, which I did in a daze, and then he had Instagram pulled up, the screen reflecting us in selfie mode.

It was dark on the boat, but the lights from the city showed just enough of us to make up a grainy, golden image.

Vince threw his arm around me, pulling me into him. He was so massive, his arm hooked around me completely, shoulder over one of mine while his hand hooked the other.

“Don’t look so scared,” he whispered against my neck, watching our reflection on the screen.

I reached up, hooking my hands on his arm that was around me. His chin was on the crown of my head, his smirk sexy as hell, eyes like that of a leopard who just spotted his prey.

His extended arm captured all of it — me pulled into him, his arm holding me close, my hands curled into the sleeve of his jacket. The flash went off, and before I could even see the picture, Vince pulled away.

“What are you doing?” I asked, watching him walk across the deck, thumbing away on the keyboard.

“Posting it.”

“No one wants to see me. This is about you, remember?”

He didn’t reply as I followed him.

“What are you writing?”

He didn’t answer me, and he got a lucky break because the stews were getting us ready to dock and disembark. He slid my phone into the pocket of his jacket and didn’t give it to me until we were back in the car.

It was so late by the time we made it to the hotel, but the rooms were quiet enough that I assumed the rest of the team was still out on the town. There was no way they were asleep yet, not with nothing to do in the morning other than fly home.

“Goodnight,” I said to Vince when we made it to our rooms. I was already tapping my key card and opening my door when he just leaned against the frame of his, watching me.

I paused, arching a brow.

“You’ll be in my bed soon.”

My mouth parted at his words, and I blinked before letting out an incredulous laugh. Then, I let my door shut without going inside it, crossing to where Vince was, instead.

I folded my arms, lifting my chin high. “Never going to happen, Pigeon.”

He pushed to stand, invading my space so quickly I backed up and hit the wall in-between our doors. Vince stared down at me, a lazy smile on his lips.

“I can’t wait to make you eat your words.”

He pressed into me, just a little, just enough to make my breath catch. He reached up and trailed the back of his knuckles up the line of my jaw, tugging on my earlobe as if to remind me that his teeth had done the same tonight.

Then, he grinned wider, stepping away completely and unlocking his door.

“I love that face, by the way,” he said, glancing at where I was still frozen in place. “The one you make when you realize you’ve met your match.”

•  • •

I didn’t think to check my phone when I made it inside. I was buzzing from his touch, mind and body on fire from the night’s events and how I felt about them. I was also exhausted, so much so that I barely washed my face before I fell into bed and let sleep take me under.

The next morning, I woke to a flurry of texts.

Reya: Camilla and I are freaking out over last night’s post. In the best way. Call me when you’re up!

Camilla: I smell an assignment extension… way to break the Internet! And every Tampa girl’s heart. 😉

Livia: Told you you were in trouble. Can you tell me I was right over a glass of red soon? I need details.

I clicked out of my best friend’s text with my heart hammering in my ears, pulling up Instagram next. I clicked on my profile picture, quickly tapping through the stories I’d posted of last night’s game until I came to the picture of me and Vince.

The image was so striking, I covered my mouth with one hand, staring at it in disbelief.

My eyes were a bit squinted from the flash, which just made me look sated, the smile on my lips subtle and soft. My normally curly hair was styled in soft waves and blowing in the wind, fresh from the blowout I’d had done earlier in the afternoon. Strands of it stuck to my lips, my hands clutching Vince’s arm tightly, fingertips curled into the fabric of his jacket. And even though I knew that I’d just been tired, I looked like I’d just been freshly fucked.

And there was Vince behind me, wrapping me up like he owned me, his eyes low and sexy and commanding all of the camera’s attention.

His lips were pressed against my hair.

My chest tightened. How had I not noticed that?

But I didn’t focus on it long before I was gaping at the text overlaid on the screen.

night out celebrating with my girl

I clicked out of it, blinking, only to be hit with it in my feed.

The photo had already been picked up by ESPN, and they’d reposted it.

Sonofabitch.