Wild for You (Hot Jocks #6)
Kendall Ryan
About the Book
He’s growly. Grumpy. Stubborn.
And now, my new roommate.
Walking away from my disastrous last relationship was an easy decision, but moving in with a friend-of-a-friend hockey star who’s rarely home? Not quite as simple, because Grant makes me feel all kinds of things I’m not prepared for.
Protected. Desired. Unsteady.
? ? ?
She’s beautiful. Smart. Tempting.
And a little fragile.
I’ve never been anyone’s knight in shining armor, but when Ana needed a place to stay, it was easy to offer her a room with me.
Not so simple, though, is keeping my hands—or my mouth—to myself. And the night she crawls into my bed and shares her body with me? Heaven.
But she’s not looking for a relationship, and to my surprise, I find myself pissed off by that idea.
They say my heart is broken, that I’ll never settle down. I used to think that was true. Now, though? Hell, your guess is as good as mine.
First, she took my bed.
Then she took my heart.
Then she took my everything.
Playlist
“New Vibe Who Dis” by Madison Mars feat. Little League “Blame it On Me” by George Ezra “Broken” by Lovely the band “Higher Place” by Dimtri Vegas & Like Mike “I Got U” by Duke Dumont “Ride it” by Regard
“Fire on Fire” by Sam Smith “Detlef Schrempf” by Band of Horses “Kissing Strangers” by DNCE
1
* * *
Responsibilities
Grant
Being the captain of a pro hockey team comes with certain responsibilities. When I worked my ass off to become captain, I had no idea those responsibilities would include removing a monkey from a hot tub during a team trip to Thailand, searching for clothes for one of our forwards after he got locked out of a room by a puck bunny, and tonight, hunting down underwear for our newest defenseman.
Don’t ask.
And now I’ve just completed another task, locating antacid tablets for our goalie’s pregnant wife. There’s never a dull moment.
“How’s it hanging?” Jordie, one of the rookies, asks when I re-enter the private dining room after handing over the antacids to Becca.
“Can’t complain,” I murmur, already scanning the room to locate my next project—the drunk left winger who’s been a total pain in the ass tonight. Shit, to be honest, Jason Kress has been a pain in the ass since the moment he got traded here last year.
I spot him across the room, standing at the cash bar with a scowl on his face. His way-too-good-looking girlfriend stands nearby, talking to a couple of the other WAGs—wives and girlfriends—but I force my gaze away from her and focus back on Kress.
We’re all here at the start-of-the-season banquet that our coaching team throws each year as a big preseason celebration before we head into the busy hockey season. All the wives and girlfriends are invited as a thanks for letting us steal their men for the next six months during the insane travel schedule hockey teams enjoy. I always come solo, though.
Most of the guys know to limit alcohol consumption at these events to one or two drinks. Apparently, Kress didn’t get that memo. Fucker.
He’s been an asshole all night. It’s nothing I’d punch the guy in the face for, but he was short with his girlfriend and made some mocking remarks to her earlier. She looked miserable, and my stomach tightened in response. He’s also drinking too much, and being loud and abrasive. It’s enough that I noticed and felt bad for Ana, his girlfriend who moved from Las Vegas with him after he was traded to our team last year.
“Get me another beer,” he says, loudly enough that I can hear him from my spot beside Jordie. “Ana, get me another fucking beer.”
“Be right back,” I say without taking my eyes off my target. Cursing under my breath, I approach the five-foot-eleven Kress, towering over him by several inches. “Haven’t you had enough?”
“What are you, my sponsor?” He scoffs, rolling his eyes in my direction.
“I’m serious. Cool it,” I say firmly. “Remember who you’re representing. This isn’t about getting shit-faced on free booze.”
I’ve survived a dozen seasons as an ice hockey center, which means I’ve lived through ruthless training camps, injuries, and brutal playoff games. I’m known for my stamina and self-control, and performing under pressure. So for this to be my breaking point is, quite frankly, a little disappointing. I really didn’t intend to lose my shit tonight. And at Jason Kress, no less.
Maybe I’m just getting too old for this shit.
Either way, I force a deep breath into my lungs, trying to calm the adrenaline coursing through my veins.
“Jason,” his girlfriend says in a soft voice. Ana appears out of nowhere and touches his arm.
He shrugs aggressively out of her grasp. “Fuck this shit.”
“Hey, time out,” I say, stepping between them. “Kress, calm the fuck down.”
He glares at us both. “You guys take a time out from being assholes.”
“Kress . . .” Just as I open my mouth to reason with him, he storms away.