My surrender to him is immediate, and I have no regrets about letting this gorgeous man ravage my body. This isn’t how I planned on ending my night, but who am I to question what was clearly meant to happen.
“Fuck me, Daemon,” I whisper into the kiss. His approving groan is the only warning I get before he climbs up onto the bed.
I feel like I’m sweating when I start to stir awake. Outside the window, some bird is cawing, and the wind is loud as it whirls through the trees. My eyes dart around my unfamiliar surroundings, but memories of last night creep in before my panic sets in.
Daemon, the hockey god, worshipped every inch of my body for hours last night. He kissed, licked, sucked, and bit me in places I never dreamed of until I came again and again with his name on my lips.
A chill wracks my body just thinking about everything that happened between us.
Sitting up, I look around the room, but I don’t spot Daemon anywhere. Brows pulling together in confusion, I wrap one of the fleece blankets around me and head to the bathroom.
Daemon isn’t in there either. Other than the tiny bathroom, this cabin is just one large room. He left me here…
I wait for the anger or annoyance to appear, but the only thing I feel is overwhelming disappointment. It’s not an emotion I’m used to feeling after a guy pulls asmash and dashon me.
Wrapping the fleece blanket tighter around me, I tread across the cold wood floor toward the bed. The welcoming feel of this cabin is long gone, and I need to get out of here as soon as possible.
Suddenly, I feel more exposed than I did when Daemon had me spread for him on the kitchen counter at two this morning. I need to find my clothes and get the hell out of here.
Tossing my pants, shirt, and bra on the bed, I scan the floor around the bed for my socks and panties. I find my socks kicked beneath the large bed, but my underwear seem to have vanished.
Annoyed, I shimmy into my leggings and pull on my shirt, deciding to forego the bra. No one will be able to tell that I’m not wearing it once I have my jacket on.
When I reach for my jewelry I placed on the bedside table before falling asleep last night, I notice a piece of paper with my name scribbled across the top. My heart stutters in my chest at what this could mean. Maybe he didn’t leave, and he went to grab coffee or run an errand.
However, the first line of his note takes away any hope of his return.
Gianna
I’m sorry that I left before you woke up. I needed to return the snowmobile and get my car from the Georges’ house. By the time you wake up, I’m sure I’ll be halfway back to Hudson.
Thank you for last night. You were right. I needed to do something crazy. Going home with a woman nearly half my age is definitely wild.
Take care of yourself. Below is my card information. Please use it to take an Uber wherever you need to go.
Daemon
Rolling my eyes, I contemplate crumpling up his note. He thinks leaving his credit card information is enough to make up for him ditching me in the middle of nowhere. He’s an asshole, and the card information is the least he could do. The most would be to stay or have the decency to wake me up to say goodbye.
I note the card number scribbled at the bottom, followed by the billing information. It’s not only his zip code. He included the actual address for the card.
If I were a complete psycho, I would totally look up the address and see if he actually lives there. Though, I’m not that bad when it comes to my wild ways.
A slow smile creeps across my face when an idea comes to me. This is going to be so much fun.
One
Daemon
Four Months Later
The puck smashes into the boards three feet from me, where I should have been standing, and the sound jolts me out of the daydream I’ve been consumed by all day. Actually, it’s been months now. No matter how hard I try to fight it, I keep zoning out. I keep thinking about her.
“Lucero!” Coach Brennan's bellows from across the ice, drawing everyone's attention to him. “Where the hell is your head at, kid?”
It's not here on the ice with my team, and that's the problem. Well, it's part of the problem.
I want to laugh at the way he still calls me a kid after all these years. I’m retiring at the end of this season, no matter how far we make it in the playoffs. In one month, my career as a professional hockey player will be finished, and Coach still calls me a child.
