One Wild Night With The Three Hockey Demi-Gods

Chapter 2

SLOANE

“Are you actually going inside, or are you just trying to freeze to death?”

I flinched, pulling my collar higher against the damp air. “I’m thinking, Marcus.”

“You’ve been standing on this driveway for ten minutes, Sloane,” the old guard said, shining his flashlight over the floor before snapping it off. “Either go in and drink your father’s expensive champagne, or go home.”

“It’s not my father’s party,” I said softly, looking up at the warm light spilling through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the private brick house.

“It’s his team,” Marcus replied. “Same difference. Go inside. Standing out here just makes you look strange.”

I took a deep breath, smoothing down my simple dark dress, and pushed the front door open.

The music inside was a low, slow bass that hummed through the floorboards. Dim yellow lamps cast soft shadows over the hardwood. A few senior players stood near the kitchen island, laughing softly, while two front-office staff members talked near the fireplace. It was supposed to be a quiet end-of-season gathering for the inner circle.

I took three steps toward the bar cart before a tall shadow blocked the light.

“You came,” Rhett said.

I looked up. He was wearing a dark sweater with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. He looked clean, and entirely too close.

“I got a text,” I said, keeping my voice down. “From an unknown number.”

“It wasn't unknown,” he retorted. “You knew it was me.”

“Rhett—”

“Come outside,” he said. He didn't wait for my answer. He turned and walked toward the glass sliding doors at the back of the living room, heading out onto a broad wooden balcony that looked out over the dark trees.

I followed him. The glass door slid shut behind us, cutting off the low murmur of the crowd inside. The cool night air hit my bare shoulders, making me shiver.

“You’re cold,” Rhett said, stepping in front of me to block the wind.

“I’m fine,” I lied. “Why did you ask me here?”

“Because you were back,” he said simply. “How was school?”

“Long and boring.” I kept my hands tucked behind my back. “How was the season?”

“We made the second round,” Rhett said, his gray eyes fixing on mine in the dim light. “Lost in six games. Your dad was furious.”

“He’s always furious when he doesn't win.”

“True.” Rhett took one step closer. The toe of his boot hit mine. “You shouldn't have taken the job, Sloane.”

“He offered it and I took it.”

“It’s dangerous.”

“For who?” I asked, tilting my head back. “For me? Or for you?”

“For both of us,” he whispered. “You know how he treats players who get near you.”

“You’re the captain, Rhett. He won't trade you.”

“He traded Miller four years ago,” Rhett said, his voice flat. “Miller just gave you a ride home from the rink after a snowstorm. Your dad had him on a plane to Calgary by Monday morning.”

“That was different.”

“It wasn't,” Rhett said. “I watched it happen. I told myself that night that I would never put my career in your father’s crosshairs.”

“And now?”

“And now you’re standing right here,” Rhett said. He raised his hand. His fingers were warm as they brushed against my cheek, tracing the line of my jawline before cupping my face. His thumb rested right at the corner of my mouth. “And I’m tired of looking away.”

“Rhett—”

He leaned down and kissed me.

It wasn't fast and unexpected, like he was checking to make sure I was real. His lips were warm against mine, tasting like dark coffee. I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding and slid my hand up to his chest, gripping the front of his sweater. He pulled me closer, his arm wrapping around my waist, lifting me slightly off my feet as the kiss deepened.

Every rule my father had ever made faded into background noise.

Rhett pulled back first. He didn't let go of my face right away. He just stood there, his forehead resting against mine, his chest rising and falling fast.

“Rhett!” a loud voice called from inside the glass door. “Cap, you out here?”

Rhett’s eyes opened. They were dark, full of things he didn't have to say out loud. He took a slow step backward, letting his hand drop from my face.

“Go back inside,” he said softly. “Before someone sees.”

“Rhett, wait—”

“Go, Sloane,” He turned and walked down the side steps of the balcony, vanishing into the yard.

I stood there for a second, my heart pounding, my lips still tingling from the touch of his mouth. I pulled open the sliding glass door and stepped back into the hallway, trying to look normal.

“Well, look at you,” a voice drawled from the shadows.

I stopped.

Maddox was leaning against the doorframe at the end of the narrow hall. He had a drink in one hand, his tie loosened, his dark hair messy. He had a slow, dangerous smile on his face.

“Maddox,” I said, taking a step back. “What are you doing?”

“Looking for a refill,” he said, setting his empty glass down on a side table. He walked toward me, his steps closing the distance in three seconds. “You look flushed, Little Mercer. Is the air too warm in here?”

“I was just getting some fresh air.”

“Right. Fresh air,” he mocked softly, stepping right into my space. He pushed me back until my shoulders hit the hallway wall. “You always were a bad liar.”

“Get out of my way, Maddox.”

“Make me,” he grinned. His bright blue eyes were fixed on my mouth. “Come on. You’ve been glaring at me all night. Say something mean.”

“You’re an i***t,” I whispered, looking up at him.

“Better,” he murmured, his face dropping lower. “What else?”

“You’re going to get us both in trouble.”

“Good,” Maddox said.

He didn't give me time to answer. He slammed his hand against the wall right next to my head, leaned down, and kissed me hard.

This was nothing like Rhett. Maddox kissed me like he had been waiting seven years to do it and was furious he had waited so long. It was pure heat,

pressure, and fast breath. I gasped against his mouth, and he took advantage of it, pulling me tight against his chest. My hands found their way into his thick dark hair, pulling him closer as he pressed his body against mine.

“Maddox,” I breathed against his cheek when he dragged his mouth down to my jawline.

“Shut up,” he growled softly, pressing his lips to my neck before coming right back to my mouth. “You don't get to tell me no tonight.”

We fought for air, both of us shaking, until the sound of footsteps coming down the hall made us snap apart.

Maddox backed up two inches, his chest heaving, his blue eyes dark and wild. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, a crooked smile breaking across his face.

“Not bad for an i***t,” he whispered. He turned on his heel and walked away down the hall without looking back.

I slid down the wall an inch, trying to catch my breath, my skin burning everywhere he had touched me.

Then a shadow fell over the floor in front of me.

I looked up.

Jules was standing at the end of the hallway.

He must have seen everything. He stood completely still, his hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his dark coat. His face was completely blank—no anger, no surprise, no smile.

He looked at me for three long seconds.

“Jules,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “I—”

He cut me off before I could say another word.

“We need to talk,” Jules said. “Alone.”