The horn sounds through the arena, the clock runs out, and the Sinners emerge from the game as winners. Everyone hops the bench and skates toward our goalie, cheers and shouts echoing around us as we bump helmets with him, one by one.
But even as my teammates surround me with a win and adrenaline pumps through my body, I can’t stop thinking about Serena. It’s finally the night I come face-to-face with my girl—or rather face-to-mask because she can’t know who I am … not quite yet.
Obsessionis a word I don’t use lightly, but when I do, it’s with the most burning, overwhelming, and soul-consuming intensity. Only one thing in this world deserves my unbridled obsession—my coach’s stunning, doe-eyed daughter, Serena Rafferty, who’s mine, even if she doesn’t know it yet. My Little Cupid.
Most of the guys on the team would avoid her at all costs, worried that pursuing her could jeopardize their careers. Personally, I couldn’t give two shits that I play for her father. Let him threaten me and my place on this team. I’d make him trade me to a new one tomorrow, just so I could be with her. The other guys would follow in a heartbeat if that ever happened.
Professional hockey players don’t get to manage wherethey go, not typically. But when you’re as good as we are, you sure as fuck can. We’re three of the highest-paid forwards in the entire league, and if we put out feelers that we’re looking to move, teams would be begging on their knees with offers. We could practically go wherever we pleased.
I’m only protecting my identity for Serena’s sake. She’s close with her dad, and unfortunately, she’s a Goody Two-shoes who takes the unwrittenno fraternizationrule incredibly seriously. I learned that firsthand when we met at the team dinner last summer. The first time I saw her was the moment I decided what our fate would be.
It wasn’t a one-sided connection or conversation. The way those blue eyes of hers studied me, wandering all over my body like a hungry animal waiting to pounce, stirred a darkness inside me, like sand and muck getting kicked up underwater. She’s clouded every thought I’ve had since, altering every decision I make.
As much as I tried to urge her to give in to the building tension between us at the dinner, she never broke. It was aggravating, watching her deny herself the inevitable pleasure when it was so clear she wanted it just as badly as I did, all because of her father.
After she rejected me, I backed off and gave her the space she wanted—sort of.
By giving her space, I mean, I’ve secretly infiltrated every aspect of her life, including staking out her house, sleuthing through her socials, installing a few...twenty-nine...hidden cameras in her home so I can keep an eye on her when I can’t physically be there, and befriending her dog, Freddie, who now happens to love me.
The night of the dinner, last summer, was the last night we were both single, whether she knew that or not. A tiny part of me felt bad for running off her admirers these past months. Then again, I did warn them away with a shit-eating grin, so I don’t know how terrible Iactuallyfelt.
If anything, they should feel lucky; they only got a warning, not their teeth knocked out for being near her. On occasion, Icanbe a charitable guy.
Eventually, the suitors died out completely, around the same time I started leaving her letters on her front door. I expected a bit of pushback from my advances into her life, but that was before I saw the way she cherished the words I had written to her.
She loves this the same way I do, which came as a surprise from the good girl who wouldn’t dare break a rule.
It’s rather hilarious that the idea of a masked man stalking her does little to raise her hackles, but dating a player on her dad’s team is way past the line.
Before I let her figure out who I am, I’m going to make damn sure she’s already accepted our inevitability. I don’t care if it’s fucked up that I planned on trapping her emotionally before revealing my identity.
Although cornering her in other ways sounds just as fun, like I could tie her up or pin her down. It’s not like the image doesn’t cross my mind countlessly late at night, when I’m buried in the sheets, unable to sleep because my mind can’t stop spinning with thoughts of her.
About how soft her skin is. How supple her tits are. How pretty I imagine that deep red hair of hers will look,wrapped around my knuckles, and the way her body will writhe beneath me with my fingers gripping her bare throat.
Ugh, this girl has cut into my skin and burrowed so deeply when we have yet to truly be together is pitiful. But, fuck, I don’t care.
Everything I have done for us is about to come to fruition, and it will all start at her party tonight.
Less than an hour after leaving the arena, I’m home, showered and dressed in dark jeans and a red T-shirt, waiting impatiently for Casper and Kol to get to my house. We’re riding together to the party.
They’d better show up soon, or I’ll leave without them. I didn’t spend hours hunting down sold-out tickets for tonight to end up arriving late on their account.
My phone buzzes in my pocket as I grab my sneakers and sit down on the massive brown leather sectional to slip them on before retrieving my phone from my pocket.
It’s a new text in my group chat with Kol and Casper, appropriately named Code of Silence.
Casper: Just got Kol. On our way to you
About fucking time.
Kol: Casper’s driving now, but both he and I wanted to tell you to go fuck yourself
That’s rude
Kol: You’re rude
How far out?
