Body Check: A Spicy Hockey Rom-Com

What was he doing here? And why hadn’t he told her he played for the Warriors?

Hayden blinked a few times. Maybe she was imagining his sleek, long body and devastatingly handsome face and the hair that curled under his ears as if he’d just stepped out of a steamy shower—

He’s not a hallucination. Deal with it.

All right, so her one-night stand was undeniably here, flesh and blood, and sexier than ever.

He also happened to be one of her dad’s players.

Was there a section in the league rule book about a player sleeping with the team owner’s daughter? She didn’t think so, but with all the rumors currently circulating about her father and the franchise, Hayden didn’t feel inclined to cause any more trouble for her dad.

Apparently, Brody felt the same way.

“It’s nice to meet you, Hayden.” His voice revealed nothing, especially not the fact that they were already very much… acquainted.

She shook his hand, almost shivering at the feel of his warm, calloused fingers. “Charmed,” she said lightly.

Charmed? Had she actually just said that?

Brody’s eyes twinkled, confirming that the idiotic reply had indeed come out of her mouth.

“Hayden is visiting us from San Francisco,” Presley explained. “She teaches art at Berkeley.”

“Art history, Dad,” she corrected.

Presley waved a dismissive hand. “Same difference.”

“What position do you play?” Hayden asked, her voice casual, neutral, as if she were addressing a complete stranger.

“Brody’s a left-winger,” Presley answered for him. “He’s one of our best players. A superstar.”

“Oh. Sounds exciting,” she said mildly.

Presley cut in once more. “It is. Right, Brody?”

Before Brody could answer, someone else snagged her dad’s attention. “There’s Stan. Excuse me for a moment.” He quickly marched away.

Hayden’s mouth curved mischievously. “Don’t mind him. He often takes over conversations only to leave you standing in his dust.” Her smile faded. “But you probably already knew that, seeing as you play for his team.”

“Does that bother you?” Brody asked carefully.

“Of course not,” she lied. “Why would it?”

“You tell me.”

She stared at him for a moment, then sighed. “Look, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell my father about what happened between us last night.”

“Okay, so you do remember.” Amusement danced in his eyes. “I was starting to think you’d put it out of your mind completely.”

Sure. Like that was even possible. She’d thought about nothing but this man and his talented tongue all day.

“I haven’t forgotten.” Her voice lowered. “But that doesn’t mean I want to do it again.”

“I think you do.”

The arrogance in his tone both annoyed her and thrilled her. Like, how hadn’t she figured out he was a hockey player last night? The man practically had pro athlete branded into his forehead. He was cocky, confident, larger-than-life. Something told her he was the kind of man who knew exactly what he wanted and did everything in his power to get it.

And what he wanted at the moment, disconcerting as it was, seemed to be her.

“Brody—”

“Don’t bother denying it. I rocked your world last night and you can’t wait for me to do it again.”

She snorted. “There’s nothing like a man with a healthy ego.”

“I like it when you snort. It’s cute.”

“Don’t call me cute.”

“Why not?”

“Because I hate it. Babies and bunny rabbits are cute. I’m a grown woman. And stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” he said, blinking innocently.

“Like you’re imagining me naked.”

“I can’t help it. I am imagining you naked.”

His eyes darkened to a sensual glitter, and liquid heat promptly pooled between her thighs. She tried not to squeeze her legs together. She didn’t want him seeing the effect he had on her.

“Have a drink with me tonight,” he said suddenly.

The word no slipped out more quickly than she’d intended.

His features creased with what looked like frustration. He stepped closer, causing her to dart a glance in her father’s direction. Presley was standing at the end of the hall, engaged in deep conversation with Stan Gray, the Warriors’ head coach. While her dad seemed oblivious to the sparks shooting between her and Brody, Hayden still felt uncomfortable having this discussion in view of her father.

It didn’t help that Brody looked so damn edible in gray wool pants that hugged his muscular legs, and a black button-down that stretched across his chest. And his wet hair… She forced herself to stop staring at those damp strands, knowing that if she allowed herself to imagine him in the shower, naked, she might just come on the spot.

“One drink,” he insisted with a charming grin. “You know, for old times’ sake.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “We’ve known each other for all of twenty-four hours.”

“Yes, but it was a very wild twenty-four hours, wouldn’t you say?” He moved closer and lowered his head, his lips inches from her ear, his warm breath fanning across her neck. “How many times did you come again, Hayden? Three? Four?”

“Five,” she squeezed out, then quickly looked around to make sure nobody had heard her.

Her entire body started to throb from the memory. That she could experience arousal in a hallway full of people—one of them her father—made her blush with embarrassment.

“Five.” He nodded briskly. “I haven’t lost my touch.”

She resisted the urge to groan. He was too damn sure of himself, which gave him a definite advantage, because at the moment she wasn’t sure of anything.

Except the fact that she wanted to tear off her clothes and hop right back into bed with Brody Croft.

But nope, she wouldn’t do it. Sleeping with him again had Bad Idea written all over it. It had all been much simpler last night, when he’d just been an exciting stranger.

But now… Now he was real. Even worse, he was a hockey player. She’d grown up around enough hockey players to know how they lived—the constant traveling, the media, the eager women lining up to jump into bed with them.

Not to mention that Brody was so…arrogant, flirtatious, bold. Yesterday it had added to the allure of sex with a stranger. Today it was a reminder of why she’d decided bad boys no longer played a part in her life.

Been there, done that. Her last boyfriend had been as arrogant, flirty and bold as Brody, and that relationship died a fiery death when Adam dumped her on her birthday because the whole “fidelity thing” cramped his style. His words, not hers.

She wasn’t sure why she had such terrible judgment when it came to men. It shouldn’t be so hard finding someone to build a life with, should it? A home, a solid marriage, great sex, excitement and stability, a man who’d make their relationship a priority—was that too much to ask for?

“Why are you so determined to see me again?” she found herself blurting, then lowered her voice when her father glanced in their direction. “I told you this morning I wanted to leave things at one night. I came home to support my father, not get involved with someone.”

“You were pretty involved with me last night,” he said, winking. He uncrossed his arms and let them drop to his sides. “And you can’t deny you liked it, Hayden.”

“Of course I liked it.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“The problem is I wanted one night. Seeing you again wasn’t part of the plan.”

“Plan, or fantasy?” he drawled, a knowing glimmer in his eyes. “That’s it, isn’t it? You fantasized about indulging in one night with a stranger, right? I’m not judging you, just pointing out that the fantasy doesn’t have to end yet.”

The word fantasy sounded intoxicating the way he said it. Before she could stop herself, she wondered what other fantasies they could play out together. Role-play? Bondage? Her cheeks grew warm at the latter notion. It turned her on, the idea of tying Brody up…straddling him while he lay immobile on the bed…

No. No, she was so not going there. She seriously needed to quit letting this guy jump-start her libido.

“The way I see it, you’ve got two options,” he said. “The easy way or the hard way.”

“I can’t wait to hear all about it.”

“Sarcasm doesn’t become you.” His cheeks dimpled despite his words. “Now, the easy way involves the two of us heading over to the Lakeshore Lounge for a drink.”

“No.”

He held up his hand. “You haven’t heard the rest.”

“Fine. What’s the hard way?”

A devilish look flickered across his face. “Why did you look at my dick when you said the word hard?”

“Oh, my God. I didn’t.”

“You totally did. You’re still looking.”

Well, yeah, now she was. And heat spilled over her cheeks when she realized he was totally sporting a semi. The second she noticed it, her nipples grew even harder.

“It’s cool, we’ll just pretend you’re not ogling me.” He winked. “Anyway, I just realized there is no hard way. Because this is pretty fucking easy. You want to say yes to that drink.”Content provided by NôvelDrama.Org.

Hayden bit her bottom lip. He was right, damn it. Despite every single logical objection in her head, she did want to say yes.

“Better hurry up and say it, though,” Brody teased. “Because your father seems to be nearing the end of his conversation—yup, he’s shaking Stan’s hand now. Which means he’ll get back here just in time to hear you say yes, and then he’ll ask you what you’re saying yes to, and I’m sure neither one of us wants to open that can of worms.”

She turned her head and, sure enough, her father was walking toward them. Great. Although she knew her dad could handle the knowledge that his twenty-six-year-old daughter wasn’t a virgin, she didn’t want him privy to her sex life. Especially a sex life that involved one of his players.

Her dad might be totally obsessed with his team, but he always warned her about the turbulent nature of hockey players. The latest warning came during her last visit, when she’d been hit on by an opposing player after a Warriors game. She’d declined the dinner invitation, but it hadn’t stopped Presley from launching into a speech about how he didn’t want his daughter dating “brutes.”

If he knew she’d spent the night with Brody Croft, it would just add to his stress.

“So how about that drink, Hayden?”

Her pulse quickened when she realized if she agreed to Brody’s request, chances were they wouldn’t get around to the drink anyway. The second he had her alone, he’d be slipping his hands underneath her shirt, palming her breasts, sucking on her neck the way he’d done last night, as he’d slid inside her and—

“One drink,” she blurted, then chastised herself for yet again letting her hormones override her common sense. What was wrong with her?

With a soft chuckle, Brody rested his hands on his trim hips, the poster boy for cool. He grinned. “I knew you’d see it my way.”