Power Play: A Second Chance Hockey Romance (Sinners on the Ice)
Power Play: A Second Chance Hockey Romance: Chapter 23

5 years 3 months ago, June

“Can you believe I’m married?” Colt claps me on the back so hard, I almost spill the drink I’m nursing. Only the fact that it’s almost empty saves me from smelling like a barrel of whiskey.

I move away from him, looking him up and down with a sarcastic smile. “No. I still have no idea what Ava even sees in you.”

He smacks his lips together, grinding his molars. Then he lifts both hands and flips me off.

Throwing my head back, I laugh. “Even after all these years, it’s so fucking easy to rile you up. You fascinate me, Colt, I swear.”

“I shouldn’t have made you Michael’s godfather,” he mutters, loosening his black tie and unbuttoning his white shirt at the collar. “Maybe that would’ve taught you a lesson.”

I press my palm to my chest, feigning offense. “Don’t hurt my feelings like that! I’m the best godfather for Michael. You and I both know that.”

Colt rolls his eyes, but a grin grows on his lips. I break into a smile too, letting my back fall against the chair. It’s a small gathering at the lake house they rented for the ceremony, with about twenty guests. Colt’s and Ava’s parents, a few of his teammates from the California Thunders, a few of the guys from college, Drake, and her.

No matter how much I try, my eyes always involuntarily land on her.

My ex-girlfriend sits beside Ava, a flute of champagne in her hand. She is absolutely divine in her light blue dress with an open back. It emphasizes her hourglass figure, her thin waist and killer hips. With her long blond hair covering her bare shoulders and the immaculate makeup on her face, she is literal perfection. And it aggravates me even more. I should hate her, not salivate over her, dammit.

“You’re staring again,” Colt comments, pouring himself a drink. I extend my glass, and he pours me some whiskey too. “Maybe it’s time you talk to her?”

“What for? I heard everything she wanted to say last time we saw each other.” I gulp down the whiskey and put the empty glass on the table. “Everyone heard.”

I twist my lips into a scowl. The bitterness in my voice isn’t lost on me. If Colt knew how pathetic I was, he would laugh in my face. It’s been almost a year since our breakup—eleven months and twenty-five days, to be precise—and I’m still not fucking over her.

“I don’t know. When you asked if you could bring a plus-one, I kinda expected you to show up with a girl—even one you only invited to piss Layla off.” Colt takes a sip of his drink; his eyes are on me. “But instead you came alone and spent two days in a row watching your ex, while refusing to talk to her.”

“I’m not seeing anyone,” I grumble. “I thought about bringing a friend. But I’m too fucking tired to play pretend to annoy someone who doesn’t care about me.”

Colt keeps quiet, watching me intently. A burst of laughter reaches us from outside, but he doesn’t avert his gaze from me. He’s mulling over his next words, a careful expression on his face. “Have you been with anyone since she broke up with you?”

I jerk my head no. “I haven’t wanted to.”

“I mean physically,” Colt adds. He sets his elbows on his knees, bending forward.

“I haven’t wanted to,” I repeat, this time slower. His jaw unhinges, and he stares at me with such a ridiculous expression, I want to fucking laugh. “I’m fine as it is.”

Colt smiles sadly. “I don’t think you are.” He shakes his head. “You need to fuck her out of your system.”

A thumbs-up is the only way for me to respond to his words. Then I press my palm to my face and drag it down. “That is the worst advice ever. Please never give it to your son; he’d be traumatized.”

“She told you it was just about sex for her, while you were all in, head over heels for her, right?” I nod reluctantly. “And now you’re struggling to get a girl into your bed because⁠—”

“That’s not the case.” I cut him off and reach for the bottle. Colt snatches it before I have the chance to grab it. “What the fuck?”

“What do you mean?”

I glare at him. “I have no problem getting girls. I don’t want them.”

“So you tried…but you can’t?”

“I didn’t try. I don’t want them.” I reach for the bottle again, and this time he hands it to me, an unreadable expression on his face. As I pour, I tap my foot on the ground, the blood in my veins getting hotter as my irritation grows. “What?” I ask, setting the bottle on the table.

“If you still want her, ignoring her isn’t the way to go about it.”

“What do you suggest I do, huh?”

“Talk to her.” Colt shrugs.

“Would you talk to someone who gutted you open? Who ripped your heart out and stomped all over it right in front of your friends?”

Colt is silent, his gaze drifting to his wife. The corners of his mouth tremble when Ava catches his eyes on her and smiles at him from across the room. He mouths, “I love you,” to her, and I instantly look away. Not just because their love for each other makes my heart bleed a little, opening wounds that have barely healed, but also because I notice her turning to see what Ava is looking at.

“I would,” Colt suddenly says, and I whip my head toward him, my glass pressed to my lips. “If I loved her as much as I love Ava, I would talk to her.”

I swallow my whiskey, but instead of bringing some relief to my fucked-up state, it forces my gaze to strain to her. I stare, barely breathing, letting myself devour her with my eyes. She laughs. Some of the champagne she has in her mouth spills, and she starts coughing, covering her mouth with her palm. Ava grabs some napkins from the table and tries to clean her friend’s dress. My heart gallops, a rush of adrenaline surging through me. Look at me, I plead with her silently. Please, look at me.

And she does. Her eyes collide with mine, and it’s like the world around us went up in flames and there is only me and her. I slowly set my glass on the table, still holding her gaze. She takes a deep breath; her chest heaves. Gingerly, she stands up, saying something to Ava while maintaining eye contact with me. Heading away from the table, she walks out of the house, to a small patio.

I lick my lips, torn between my yearning to follow her and my stubborn desire to stay put, to not give in.

“Go,” Colt tells me, nudging me with his knuckle. “I’ll make sure Drake doesn’t notice your absence.”

Hastily, I nod and stand up from my chair. My heart beats a mile a minute as I trudge toward the patio. Once I’m outside, I slowly close the door behind me and look around for her, not seeing her at first. It’s around 11:00 p.m., and it’s dark outside, way darker than it gets in the city.

I start for the stairs and finally notice her. She’s sitting on a bench, hidden in the shadow of a bigleaf maple tree. Her phone screen lights up her face, a deep wrinkle between her brows as she types something. I hide my hands in my pockets, go down the stairs, and join her on the bench.

“Hey, Clay,” she says. Her voice has such a familiar lilt to it that my heart leaps into my chest.

“Hi, Layla.” I stare ahead, my elbows resting on my knees.

“I know we’ve been here for a couple days, but since we…never said a word to each other, saying hi feels like a good start.”

“Uh-huh.”

“How are you?”

I’m miserable without you. “I’m good. Really good. You?”

“Okay, I guess. Next year is my last year of college, so I’m excited.”

“Hope it’s fun,” I deadpan. The tone of my voice is a total contradiction to how I feel. “Where is your boyfriend? I thought you’d be here with him.”

She sucks in a breath like my question surprised her. “Brian isn’t my boyfriend.” She clears her throat. “We were having fun.”

I do a half-turn toward her. “Like we were?”

“Clay,” she warns, folding her arms across her chest.

“What? It wasn’t the same?” I turn to her completely. My eyes coast the length of her, lingering on her full breasts, which rise and fall with her rapid breath.

“It wasn’t.”

The warm air of mid-June surrounds us. A balmy wind caresses my skin, which becomes hotter with each passing second as I sit there, holding her gaze. She said she didn’t love me. She said it was just sex. She hurt me so fucking much, I barely existed after our breakup. But damn if I don’t want her.

Even if it’d be just sex.

Whatever she’s ready to give me, I’ll take it.

“And you know why it was different?” I ask, tracing my finger up her arm. She shivers, her eyes falling closed. “Because none of those boys can fuck you like I can. None of them knows what your body craves.” I move my hand up, slipping it under her hair and behind her neck. “None of them knows your pussy like I do.”

“Clay,” she whispers, “I don’t think⁠—”

“You don’t want me?”

“I do, but it’s⁠—”

I pull her close to me, our eyes level. “Just shut up and give me that sweet pussy of yours.” I let her go and sit more comfortably, my back resting against the bench. She hesitates, biting her bottom lip, her eyes focusing on my groin. “Come here, Layla.”

Me saying her name has the effect I’m counting on. She stands up and lowers herself onto my lap, straddling me. Our eyes meet, a powerful energy swimming between us.

I get my wallet out of my pocket, quickly fish out a condom, then put it down on the bench. She’s watching me the whole time, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth. I extend the condom to her, and she takes it, tearing open the wrapper as I unzip my fly and pull my cock out. It’s already hard, just from her presence.

“Put it on,” I order her, and she does as I say, rolling the condom over my cock. Her breath is ragged, and when she rears back a little, I notice how her eyes shimmer, even in the darkness. She’s turned on, and I have no doubt her panties are soaking wet. “Turn around.”

Her jaw ticks, her eyebrows piercing together.

“Turn around,” I say again, firmer this time. “And move your dress up.”

The column of her throat twitches as she swallows. I kinda expect her to argue with me, to maybe tell me to go fuck myself, but she doesn’t. Hoisting herself up, she turns around and lifts the skirt of her dress. I grip her hips with my hands, guiding her down to my lap. Pushing her panties aside with one hand, I pull her down on my cock with the other.

“Clay.” My name springs out of her mouth in a long moan.

I close my eyes, enjoying how her pussy feels around my dick. Perfection. I wrap my arm around her waist from behind, my palm possessively splayed over her stomach. She bounces up and down on my cock, swallowing me deeper and deeper with each dip of her hips.

“Oh fuck. Your cock hits me so deep,” she murmurs between moans. “God, you’re incredible.”

She continues riding me. The wet sounds of her pussy are the best soundtrack to my life. It’s sloppy and so fucking enticing, I’m losing my mind. I slide my hand from her hip to her center, catching her throbbing clit between my fingers.

“Oh, Clay,” she moans.

I start rubbing her clit in little circles, driving her wild with this caress on her sensitive spot. Her moves are becoming hastier, and my own release is approaching. She fucks me good, bouncing on my cock, sliding her tight little cunt up and down my shaft until I’m balls deep inside her.

“I’m gonna come, Clay…Are you with me?” she begs, almost out of breath.

Deciding to put her out of her misery, I dig my nails into the skin of her hip, pushing her to move faster. My other hand assaults her clit with my fingers. I’m chasing my own orgasm, so fucking close to it when her walls close in on me. Her body shudders powerfully as she orgasms. Loud and hard, she makes me come too.

For a while, we stay like this. My arms are wrapped around her from behind, her back resting on my chest. My cock is still deep inside her, and I’d love to stay like this forever. Me and her in the illusion that something more is possible between us.

“I know why you don’t look at me,” she whispers hoarsely. “Why you don’t say my name. I know, and I understand. I deserve it.” She takes a deep breath, stands up, and lowers her dress. “I hope one day you’ll replace it in your heart to forgive me…because I’m very sorry for what I did. I’m so very sorry, Clay.”

She starts walking away, slowly fixing her dress and hair. What the hell am I doing? I tuck my cock still sheathed in a condom inside my pants and race after her, zipping my fly on the way. I catch her just in time before she opens the door to the house. My fingers wrap around her elbow, and I pull her back to me, away from the prying eyes of people inside.

Twirling her around, I search her face with my eyes. Those chocolate brown pools stare back at me, so many emotions, so many feelings, all at once on her beautiful face.

“Come stay with me before the school year starts.” The words rush out, spurred on by the insane beating of my heart. “Just you and me and a lot of fun.”

“Clay…”

“For a week or two or even a day. Whatever works for you,” I beg her. “Please.”

I need you.

Her gaze is trained on me as she chews on her bottom lip. “Okay. For a week or maybe two, in July.”

“Okay.” Whatever she’s willing to give me, I’ll take.

She smiles and untangles herself from me, but her fingers linger in mine. “I better go inside.” She opens her mouth to say more, but I beat her to it.

“I’ll wait a minute before I go in. We don’t want to raise suspicion.”

“We don’t.”

She hesitates, then finally pulls her fingers from mine. When her hand is on the doorknob and she starts to open it, I call out to her.

“Layla?” Her head swivels in my direction. “Until your school year starts, your pussy is mine. Got it?”

Something passes between us, something new and exciting. Then, with a smile that would put the Cheshire cat to shame, she says, “Until my school year starts, it’s yours.”

She steps inside, leaving me alone. I turn around and go back to the bench to get my wallet. Thoughts swirl inside my head, my emotions so strong and so pleasant, even my steps are lighter.

I sit down on the bench, slipping my wallet back into my pocket. And, with a surprise, I realize that even with all my conflicting emotions, I don’t feel any regret.

Whatever she’s willing to give me, I will take.

Even if it’s just sex.