Aleks Suter was a chaotic masterpiece.
Whether he was drenched in sweat and bleeding, wearing his hockey uniform, or scowling and clean cut in his after-game suit — that man had the power to turn every head. He wasn’t pretty. He wasn’t handsome. He was just plainhot— rugged, lined with hard edges and scars that had the power to make every pussy tingle.
Right now, he looked calm, cool, and collected in a pair of light gray joggers and a navy-blue Tampa Bay Ospreys performance tee. It was long sleeved, covering the tattoos that I knew lined those muscular forearms of his. I knew the first one he’d ever gotten was in script on his rib cage right below his heart. It saidas you are. He’d gotten it the week after his foster mom passed away. And I knew the chain she’d bought for himwas under that shirt, resting against his chest, even though I couldn’t see it.
He wore a hat, too — flat-billed — and he turned it around to face backward as I finally managed to take one step down toward him. It was just enough of a movement for me to see he still had his hair cut short, almost like a military buzz cut.
I’d always loved to run my fingers through that spiky hair, to feel how it was somehow soft even if a bit prickly. It would tickle my palms as I mindlessly played with it when we watched movies as teens.
But of all his features — the abs, arms, thighs, and back muscles built by years of hockey — it was still his face that stole the show.
The scar over his eyebrow was always what I noticed first. I was there when he got it, when he was a dumb kid shooting pucks at an empty net late one night to blow off steam. He wasn’t wearing any gear, and the puck popped back off the bar and hit him so hard I’d shrieked and sprinted for the ice.
He’d grinned at me through the blood running down his face.
“I’m okay, Strings,” he’d said, running his thumb over where a tear had slid down my cheek.“Don’t cry for me. I never want to make you cry.”
I swallowed at the flash of a memory, taking another step as I cataloged the rest of his features. His full lips, square jaw, the hollowness of his cheeks, the stubble on his chin…
And then his mouth curled into a smile, the one I swore was meant only for me.
“Strings,” he said in greeting, offering me his hand as I hit the last step.
“Aleks,” I replied. The moment I slid my hand into his, heat ripped through me with enough zap to have my next breath lodged in my throat.
He pulled me into him the moment my feet hit the tarmac, wrapping me in a hug that was tight and fierce and warm. He still smelled the same, like fresh ice and mint. But his arms were bigger now, more muscular, his chest hard as stone as he pulled me against it.
A sigh left him the longer he held me, and I melted into him with a smile.
“You look like shit,” he murmured against my ear, pulling me under his arm. He pressed a soft kiss to my hair, holding his lips there like it was the most natural thing in the world while I tried to fight off an earthquake threatening to destroy my entire body.
“Gee, thanks,” I said, elbowing him, but he wouldn’t let me pull away.
Instead, he slid his arm down to curve protectively around the small of my back, his massive fingers hooking over my hip bone. His other hand swept my messy hair out of my face, and he thumbed my jaw, his endless brown eyes searching mine.
When his gaze fell to my lips, my knees buckled.
“What are you doing?” I whispered.
“Just looking at you.”
I swallowed. “I don’t think there are any cameras around.”
He smirked at that, running his palm along my cheek before he was cupping my neck. I couldn’t help but lean into the touch, and my skin flamed when I did, when Aleksrealizedthat I did.
“No time like the present to practice, right?”
With that, he leaned in just long enough to press a searing kiss to my forehead.
Then, he took my hand in his and walked us toward the cars, all while I willed my heart not to beat right out of my chest.
A Good Show
Aleks
New York City was my favorite place in the United States.
Sure, I’d made a home in Tampa. I loved the beaches and the heat, the team that had believed in me when the rest of the league turned its back on me, and the condo I’d purchased in one of the high-rises downtown. I loved how much the city had grown, how it was busier now than ever before and there was always something to do.
