Secret Obsession: A Dark Hockey Romance (Hockey Gods)
Secret Obsession: Chapter 37

“You look worried,” Greyson calls. He passes me the puck.

I stop it with my stick and pass it over to Steele.

We arrived an hour ago. Most of the team is off doing whatever, since we have most of the afternoon to ourselves, but we decided to stretch our legs on the ice. The hotel we’re staying at is attached to the arena. It’s not like sneaking over and lacing up was hard.

I don’t often get to skate without the pads. And I’ve borrowed one of Knox’s sticks, which is taped weird as shit.

Whatever.

Knox has his other stick, and he intercepts Steele’s pass to Greyson. He takes the puck down and around the goal, coming zooming back toward us.

The urge to thrust my stick out and trip him is building, but I refrain. Barely.

“What’s up, baby brother?” Knox skids to a halt in front of me, the puck already sailing toward Greyson. Well, past Greyson. He skates after it in a hurry.

“You’re pouting,” Knox adds.

“I’m not fucking pouting.”

He shrugs. “Okay.”

“I’m not,” I snap. “I just…”

“He’s upset about his car,” Steele interjects. “Which means we’re absolutely going out tonight.”

Not exactly true. More like, I’m worried about what my wrecked car means. Clearly, the break-in at Willow’s place wasn’t an accident. Not if the hit-and-run is related. And let’s be honest. It’s fucking related.

Going out will be about a quarter as fun as it usually would be, since Willow is back home with the other girls. Before her, I had fun enough at our outings. Usually dealing with my brother’s antics and getting drunk, getting hit on by girls…

That never ended well, because there was exactly one girl I wanted to make out with, pretty much from the moment I first set foot on campus.

But anyway, now I just want to go home and keep her safe.

“Hey,” Greyson calls, holding up his phone. “Rhodes is in town. He wants to meet up for lunch and said he’d pay.” He snorts. “He texted us an address.”

I follow my friends off the ice. We didn’t bother putting anything in the locker room, so we just squat and unlace our skates in the hall, wiping the ice and water off our blades and tucking them back in our bags.

We dump them off in our rooms and meet downstairs.

Twenty minutes later, we’re walking through the doors of a fancy-as-fuck restaurant. Greyson takes over, that whole money and privilege thing coming through loud and clear. He’s used to places like this, and the cocky smile he offers the hostess says that he gets exactly what he wants.

“Hey.” Jacob strolls in behind us. “We’ve got a reservation already.”

The hostess’s eyes go wide. While Greyson may have charm, I suppose Jacob has… fame?

Weird concept.

“Mr. Rhodes.” She clears her throat. “Yes, we have your table ready.” She glances at us with new eyes, and I can practically see her thought process. She’s wondering if we’re teammates she simply didn’t recognize or other people of importance.

We get a private table in the back, away from the other customers. It’s quiet, and a little dark, and definitely moody. For a lunch, it might even be a little over the top.

“You guys are going back to CPU tomorrow?” Jacob asks.

Knox nods. “Yeah, bus is leaving by eleven.”

Jacob smirks. “Or… you could skip it and come to my game tomorrow night.”

I sit up straighter. With our schedule, it’s difficult to get to the NHL games. They tend to coincide—plus the fact that Crown Point doesn’t have an NHL team in general. The closest one is Boston.

Greyson and Steele exchange a look, then over to us. Part of me wants to go—but the other part just wants to get back to Willow. Which is insane. But sue me, I love the girl.

“Sure,” Knox agrees, without fucking consulting any of us.

I bite my tongue.

“Yeah, man, we’d love to. We can fly back,” Greyson agrees. “Or rent a car.”

“Guys—”

Steele kicks me under the table. “What’s been going on with you?” he asks Jacob. “You seem…”

More fit? Tanner? Broader than the last time I saw him, not including when he was giving me the tracker to inject into Willow. That was in the dark, and he didn’t get out of his car. I’d guess taller, but I don’t think that shit’s possible. He does seem like he’s taking better care of himself. Spring semester last year was rough—he played fine, but he was definitely self-destructing on the inside. All because the professor he became infatuated with fled Crown Point.

He still signed with a team.

“I’ve been good,” he confirms. “Playing at this level is insane. It requires all of my focus, so I haven’t had time to think about anyone—anything else.”

Somehow, I think that’s a lie. But I’m not about to be the dick and call him out on it.

“You’re coming tonight, right?” Greyson asks.

“Yep.” Jacob grins. “And so is my coach. And half the team.”

Steele and Knox mirror his expression. Greyson looks… disinterested? But that’s probably just a mask to hide any sort of nerves. He’s an iceman in skates. And off.

I clear my throat. “We need to discuss something. About our… cold friend.”

Jacob snorts.

Steele’s expression tightens. “I was going to bring that up, as well. I was informed on the way here that my father is coming back early. Beginning of next week.”

We all trade glances.

“I’ve been watching the missing person reports,” Jacob murmurs. “Nothing matching his description has come up. So if that’s—”

“The break-in and Willow driving my car around Crown Point, and then it getting totaled, isn’t a coincidence.” I sigh. “Someone knows.”

Greyson swears, and we all nod our agreement.

“Let’s focus on the game,” Knox advises. “This isn’t the time to choke. We’ll deal with our friend later, and we’ll figure out who found out.”

I rub my eyes, wanting to protest. But he’s right—we’re six hours away from Crown Point. Five away from Steele’s dad’s house. There’s no way we can get there and back before the game tonight.

Our conversation turns to our opponents. We’re playing the Bexley University Wolves. They’re known in the region for being absolutely fucking ruthless, and it’s the first time we’re playing them this season.

We talk strategy until the food comes. Jacob pays, much to our protests, but he waves us off. I replace myself slowly dropping into the zone as we walk back to the hotel. All of us get quieter—except Knox and Jacob. They seem content to continue to jabber about meaningless shit.

I tune them out.

My phone rings in the elevator up to my room. Willow’s contact picture—of her frowning up at me, like an adorable heathen—fills my screen. I swipe to answer it, unable to stop my own smile.

“Hey, wild girl,” I greet her.

“Hey, yourself,” she replies. “What are you wearing?”

I cough. “Ms. Reed, are you trying to sexy talk?”

“I’m succeeding.” Her smile is apparent in her tone. “I’ll tell you what I am… or rather, not wearing.”

My cock wakes up. The elevator opens on my floor, but I have a long fucking walk back to my room. My pace quickens, and I try to video call her. She quickly rejects it, though, and laughs under her breath.

“Don’t ruin the game,” she admonishes lightly. “Now, do you want to guess?”

“Are you wearing panties?” My dick is stiff already, just from the idea of her teasing me. To say I’m wrapped around her finger would be putting it fucking mildly. I palm my cock through my jeans, trying to relieve some of the pressure.

“Hmmm, nope. Not wearing panties.”

“Socks?” I tease.

She groans. “Miles, no. I’m not wearing socks.”

“Interesting. What could you be wearing, wild girl? A skirt that barely hides your sweet cunt?”

“Now that’s an idea.”

I get to my room and fumble for the key card in my wallet. I shove the door open, more than ready to take care of this erection and hopefully hear her come, too. I step inside, heading past the bathroom, and slam to a halt.

She’s there.

Here.

Fuck.

And she’s totally naked, reclining against the headboard. Her legs are crossed, but her breasts are on full display, with—holy shit. She’s got ties around her wrists and ankles, not connected to anything. Just waiting, loose, for me.

“What are you doing here?”

She stares at me. “Are you happy?”

I almost shake my head in disbelief—but I don’t want her thinking I don’t want her here. I do. But I also want to know how she got here, and who drove, and if she wore her seat belt. And if they drove the speed limit. And—

“Miles,” she whispers.

I toss my phone. I’ve got maybe an hour, tops, before I need to get to the arena. That’s enough time to make my girl orgasm at least three times, I think.

“I’m ecstatic,” I reply. I undo my jeans and shove them down, letting my cock spring free. It’s already got precum at the tip, and I fist my length.

Not as good as her cunt, but I need something to take the edge off. I kick off the rest of my clothes and stalk toward her. I tug on one of the ribbons attached to her ankle. She uncrosses her legs and lets me pull it toward the corner of the bed.

I curl my fingers around her ankle. Her skin is smooth and soft and warm, and she shivers slightly at my touch. I yank, and she squeaks as she slides down the bed. Until she’s flat. There’s enough length to secure her to the legs of the bed, so I do first the one leg, then the other.

When I get up to her head, she eyes me carefully.

I lean down and press my lips to hers.

She gives in immediately, arching up like she can dive into me. My tongue sweeps the seam of her lips, and then I pull away. I pluck her phone from her hand and set it aside, then tie her wrists together. I drag them up over her head, looping the ribbon around part of the headboard. Bless whoever decided to make it not a solid block of wood.

“Is this from your corset?” I ask, pausing to touch the material.

She bites her lip. “I found them in your closet.”

My heart is picking up speed, and any meditation calmness I gained on the walk back here is gone.

Her gaze drops to my dick.

“When did you get the piercings?” she asks.

I run my hand across her chest, pausing to thumb her nipple.

“The first one, I got just over a year ago,” I admit.

When she hooked up with my brother for the first time.

Because I wanted something just as painful to be physical, too. I couldn’t make sense of the betrayal and anger I felt toward both of them.

“And then the second…”

Well, that came when she said she loved him. In her sleep.

I shouldn’t have been watching her that night, shouldn’t have stepped into his room when I knew he was downstairs. But she was upset, crying even unconscious, and then she just fucking said it.

It killed me—she’d fallen in love with someone else.

Someone who wasn’t me.

I pinch her nipple, and she gasps. Arches again, pushing into my touch instead of shirking away from it.

“I love you,” I say.

She stops.

There’s something holding her back from saying it. No matter how she feels, she’s going to have difficulty saying it back to me.

“Do you trust me?”

Her blue eyes stay locked on my face, and she slowly nods.

I go into my bag and retrieve the tie I’ll need to wear in just under an hour. I lift her head and wrap it around her, covering her eyes. She doesn’t say a word of protest, and my dick twitches even more.

And then I’m reaching in my pocket, drawing out my folding knife. It opens noiselessly.

I climb on the bed, ignoring the way it dips and pulls her body toward mine. I straddle her hips and touch the tip of the blade to her sternum. Just between her breasts.

Her skin twitches and shivers.

“What is that?”

“Pleasure and pain,” I reply. “You get off on this, Willow. But if you’re not sure, I’m happy to check…”

I scoot back, positioning myself better between her legs. I drag her body down more, so her restrained legs can bend and her ass rests on my thighs. She’s spread open, on my lap, and completely helpless. Her arms are caught over her head, but there’s still some give. She tests that now, tugging on them, and her hands come down an inch. If that.

Good.

I lean down and trace the path of the knife’s point with my tongue.

“Miles,” she pants.

“Your pussy is practically dripping,” I tell her. “How long were you waiting for me, wild girl?”

“O-only an hour.”

Her breath catches when I resume tracing an invisible pattern across her stomach, down to her pubic bone, then back up. Around her breasts, to her throat. She swallows so daintily.

I line up the tip of my dick with her entrance, inching inside her. I suppress my groan, because she immediately clenches around the head. I lean over her and claim her lips for a moment, staying perfectly still otherwise.

The first slice of my blade across her breast is quick. I pair it with my thrust into her, and I don’t know if she actually registers the bite of pain. Or the way my lips close over the cut right after, lapping at and irritating it.

Her blood is warm on my tongue.

“What did you do to me?” she whispers.

“Cut you open.” I pull out and push back into her. Slow. Enough to drive both of us crazy. She squeezes around my shaft, and sheer willpower keeps me from fucking her like an animal.

“What?” Her voice is panicked.

Drops of blood well up on the cut on her breast, spilling over.

I put the blade to her skin again and continue to fuck her. Every thrust in has her shuddering, an involuntary response. It cuts into her again, and this time she makes a noise. She’s caught somewhere between pain and lust, which is right where I want her.

“X marks the spot, wild girl.” I slash my own chest, relishing the pain, then toss the knife onto my pile of clothes. I lean down over her. My forearms bracket her head.

Her lips meet mine in a frenzy. My blood drips down and hits her chest. Making a mess of both of us. We’re just two canvases that don’t know any better.

My hand slips between us, and I bring her with me toward an orgasm. One of however many she’ll give me, if she forgives me for this.

“Come with me,” I order.

My teeth graze her earlobe, and she groans.

She tenses and shudders around me, her cry wordless. I pump twice more and meet her in the haze of climax.