Game For Love_Delay of Game Read online

  Text copyright ©2016 by the Author.

  This work was made possible by a special license through the Kindle Worlds publishing program and has not necessarily been reviewed by Nyree Belleville, Oak Press, LLC. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements appearing in the original Game For Love remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Nyree Belleville, Oak Press, LLC, or their affiliates or licensors.

  For more information on Kindle Worlds: http://www.amazon.com/kindleworlds

  Delay of Game

  By

  Aliyah Burke

  Blurb

  It only takes one moment to change the game forever…

  Sergej Markovich is the star player, the left winger, for the Washington Raptors. And he wants the Stanley Cup. Asked by his friend and teammate to pick up a woman from the airport, he doesn't realize that this woman is the one, the only one, who would be able to delay his game. She's not at all as he expected and now that he's met her, all he can think about is getting beneath the layers she has around her.

  Constantine Gleason is taking a break from work to hang out with her best friend to watch her brother in the quarterfinals of the run for the Stanley Cup. Only when she sees who's picking her up--not her friend Vale, or Vale's brother, she isn't sure she's not dreaming. Sex on skates. And when the opportunity comes, she takes it not caring about how she may feel in the morning.Their whirlwind relationship has the potential for more, if they are both willing to make sacrifices. And that's the question, is Sergej willing to let there be a delay of game?

  Chapter One

  Delay of Game—deliberately causing a stoppage of play; player is penalized with a minor penalty.

  Bam! The helmeted face of fellow Washington Raptor right defenseman, Victor Davidson smashed into the glass of the penalty box Sergej currently occupied. For a minor that shouldn’t even have been called. Sergej Markovich flexed his fingers around his stick as he kept his attention glued to the clock ticking down his remaining amount of time in the box. He sniffed and shifted his weight, prepping for a quick exit so he could rejoin his team and try to salvage this shitstorm of a playoff game.

  The Raptors had been leading the New Mexico Gamblers three-two in the quarterfinals of the playoffs, but given tonight’s performance, they were about to be tied. He readjusted the sit of his helmet as he zeroed in on the countdown. His shoulder ached like hell, but he wasn’t getting off the ice unless they carted him off on a stretcher.

  At twenty-six, he was hungry for the Stanley Cup. Growing up, he’d been told repeatedly how worthless he was and how he’d not amount to anything. If they could make it further, he would be proving how wrong they were. Not that he needed it for he was a well-known face in the hockey world. Endorsements, women, money, fast cars, and more.

  “Come on, damn it,” he swore, flexing his grip once more.

  When the countdown hit ten, he was up and by the door, waiting for the go. Five. Four. Three. Two. One. He was through the door and back on his ice. And, yes, it was his. Shouldering by their center, he reclaimed his side as he took off after the puck down by the Gamblers goal. His team had done an awesome PK, penalty kill.

  It wasn’t enough, and he was cursing a blue streak as they headed back to their locker room. Series was knotted up. Next game winner continued on to the semifinals, and the loser went home until next season.

  “Fuck,” he bit off, punching the locker. Two teammates looked at him, anger on their own expressions.

  “What are you doing tonight?” Victor asked, walking up to his space, wearing just his towel, sweat still pouring down his body.

  “Sleeping. Why?” He ran his gaze over his friend. “I told you I don’t swing that way.”

  “Fuck off. I need a favor.”

  Sergej narrowed his eyes. People didn’t come to him for favors. He wasn’t that nice. But he and Victor got along and actually hung out away from the team. “With what?”

  “I have to get this injury looked at, but I’m supposed to go pick up Vale’s best friend at the airport tonight; her flight gets in around midnight. With the doc, I’m not going to make it, and she was delayed. Can you go get her?”

  “Why don’t you hire a driver for her?”

  Victor ran a hand down his face and winced at the shoulder motion. “You know Vale; she’s hands on. She wants to make sure her friend is well taken care of since she’s not here to do it herself. Please do this for me, man, I’ll owe you.”

  Vale, Victor’s twin, was a bit psycho. She played in a women’s league and, in Sergej’s opinion, could just as easily play in the NHL or even the NFL, especially with the way she could take and deliver hits, but she was just missing something which most people had to make them likeable in public. But, the thought of having a butch woman in his car when he could have a puck bunny who he’d fuck for the night then never see again didn’t sit well with him. Not fair, who said this woman was butch? Vale is hot; her friend could be, as well.

  “It’s like an hour away.”

  Victor nodded. “I know. Like I said, man, I’ll owe you. Please. Don’t make me face Vale and tell her I had to send a car.” He smiled, showing off the missing front tooth. “She’ll take the others.”

  “Fine, I’ll do it. Where am I dropping her off?” They’d played this game on home ice. And lost. He needed sleep to be up early practicing.

  “I don’t know where her hotel is, but I’ll send Vale a text to text her you’re picking her up.”

  “Hopefully, there won’t be many people there tonight.” He ripped off his jersey and shoved it in his bag. “Is she hot?”

  “Don’t go there, man; she’s Vale’s friend. If you don’t want my sister after your balls for a trophy to hang on her rearview, don’t even contemplate it.”

  “Your sister is the only hot player I’ve met, so never mind.”

  “Constantine doesn’t play hockey. She’s coming in for our final quarterfinal game, but she’s not a player. She’s an underwater welder.”

  Butch. “I see. We didn’t even know there was going to be a game seven until tonight; how the hell is she already on the way with a ticket?”

  “Vale.”

  There was no response for that. “Your sister is downright freaky, at times. Let me shower, and I’ll head up.”

  Victor clapped him on the shoulder. “Thanks so much, man.”

  “Sure, just get that thing fixed so we can win our next game.” He headed for the showers.

  Thirty minutes later, he strode from the locker room, black leather duffel handles in his fist. Dodging the press, he snuck off down the long tunnel leading to where players parked.

  He unlocked his agate gray metallic Porsche 911 Targa 4S and tossed the bag into the space behind the driver’s seat. Slipping behind the wheel, he put the key in the ignition and turned the engine over. He smiled at the soft purr of power; this was a car he loved.

  Sergej turned on some music and shifted into gear, leaving the covered facility. Cranking up the music, he opened up the speed as he headed toward Seattle to pick up this woman who he would have to take in his car.

  “I should be getting laid.”

  Pushing the speed limit, he made good time and parked. Once there, he slowed down and stopped for a meal in one of the dining places before checking the flight time. His phone chirped at him, and he opened the text to see Vale had sent him all the information. He checked his watch and found he had a bit more time so finished off his dinner, paid, and went to grab a coffee to drink while he waited.

  When the flight landed, he went to baggage claim as Vale had instructed him to do, found the carousel her friend would be using, and snagged a free chair. He was tired, sore, and wanted
to catch some sleep. Victor sure as hell owes me for this one. He readjusted his ball cap and slouched lower in his seat. He didn’t want to be recognized while playing chauffeur.

  He texted Vale once more, asking for a description, but she didn’t reply. He watched from beneath the brim of his cap as the passengers came down. Irritation filled him; a picture would have been helpful. He scowled and crossed his arms as he waited.

  Constantine Gleason patiently waited as the throng moved toward the escalator. Lord, she was exhausted. Hungry, too, but she would willingly forgo food in exchange for a bed. Or sex, her brain chimed in.

  She checked her watch and frowned. Late. Damn weather holdup. She stepped on the silver step and ignored the handrail as it carried her down. She pinched the bridge of her nose as she scrolled through the images on her phone of the man Vale had said would be by to pick her up.

  Seriously? The star player for the Washington Raptors, left winger, Sergej Markovich will be picking me up? The pics she moved through were ones designed to show off all his attributes, and the man had plenty. Tall, fit, big hands, and big feet. Thick black hair, amazing eyes that seemed to burn off the photos and into her soul. Wide shoulders, narrow waist and washboard abs she could probably do her laundry on. Well over six feet, he just wasn’t hot, man was damn gorgeous.

  Her nipples drew tight at the thought of his touch on her skin. Shaking her head to rid it of the fanciful sidetrack it’d taken, she closed the pictures and glanced over the crowd gathering by the carousel. Surely, if he was there, a crowd would be around him. Perhaps he was running late.

  Or didn’t come, at all. After all, who am I to him? No one. I’m sure he has other things he’d prefer to be doing.

  She shoved her phone in the front pocket of her jeans and readjusted her grip on her bag. She hadn’t brought many clothes, and the ones she did have fit nicely in this backpack. In her mind, there wasn’t any need to get dressed up for a quarterfinal game.

  She observed people hugging and greeting friends or family. Sweeping the area, her gaze locked on a man sitting off to the side. Well, slouched would perhaps be a much more apt word. Ball cap pulled low over his face, keeping it in the shadow of the brim. A fire bloomed in her gut, and she had to catch herself from leaning too far forward and falling into the person before her.

  Probably should have gone to fuck someone before I came up here. Been too long since I’ve had a cock between my legs.

  People moved by him without stopping, yet she couldn’t find the wherewithal to tear her gaze from him. With a frustrated breath, she stole another peek at her phone and the man on the screen. It had to be him. Besides, if it wasn’t, perhaps he could be a one-night stand. Stepping off the escalator, she moved with the crowd until she got closer to him and veered to pause before him. She cleared her throat and promptly lost her breath when she was snared by a pair of brilliant aqua eyes.

  Shit, it is him. She slid her fingers along the nylon padded strap of her backpack. “Mr. Markovich?”

  His gaze moved up, down, then back up once more before he slowly sat forward with a sinewy display of ease.

  “Constantine?”

  Stop focusing on his lips. “That’s me,” she said without taking her eyes from the fuller bottom lip. “Thank you for coming to get me. Vale said something happened with Victor; I hope he’s okay.”

  He grunted, and she did her damnedest to forget the flutter of need in her pussy. “You have more bags?”

  Even his accent was playing havoc on her waning control. “Nope, I travel light.”

  He pushed to his feet, and she barely contained a whimper. Sergej towered over her, making her feel small and feminine. At her job, she tended to forget sometimes she was a woman, but that knowledge was definitely in the forefront.

  “Let’s go, then.”

  She bit her sarcastic remark back behind her teeth about how less than pleased he looked to be there and perhaps she should take a taxi. He was doing her a favor, and she didn’t have to be a bitch about it. They’d had a game tonight, perhaps he was just exhausted and didn’t realize his tone. “Lead the way.” Because walking behind him wouldn’t be any issue what so ever.

  Instead of walking ahead of her, he put his hand on the small of her back, and her air shot out of her lungs. Her nerves stood on end and saluted as his touch set off a chain reaction. All of which ended up in her clit as if it knew one touch would push her over the edge.

  In her periphery, she noticed his gaze shoot to her, as well, before he focused forward once more. They walked across the skybridge and on to his car.

  “Nice ride.” The words slipped free before she could contain them.

  Another grunt.

  Okay, point taken, not a big talker. Normally didn’t bother her; after all, she was alone with her thoughts more oft than not underwater welding on pipelines. Still, with his less than vocal proclivities, he still held the door for her. And she swore he sniffed her. Of course it could have been her imagination, especially given she’d sniffed him.

  Bottom line, the man smelled delicious. Woodsy, masculine, clean and all too intoxicating. She dragged her tongue over her lower lip and opened her bag. Withdrawing her wallet, she grabbed some bills and passed them in his direction.

  “This is for what?” he questioned without taking the cash from her hand.

  “The ticket you had to get to park and meet me.”

  “Not necessary. Victor took care of it all.”

  She pursed her lips but returned the money to the billfold before stashing it back inside her bag. Zipping it, she cleared her throat. “I’m at the Waterfront.”

  He slowed and paid the ticket. “Fine.”

  She wasn’t sure if he was put out or that was just his way. Then again, maybe he didn’t speak the best English; she wasn’t sure. She did know, however, that his choice of heavy metal was going to exacerbate her headache. But, his car—she wasn’t going to say a word.

  “Victor said you welded underwater.”

  She stretched her legs out on either side of the bag. “I do. I work for a company that retrofits and fixes underwater pipelines.”

  “So, you spend your days submerged in water.”

  “And typically surrounded by sharks,” she said with a smile. “I love it. My world is quiet, and it’s fun. I get to do a lot of traveling for work, so I’ve seen places I probably wouldn’t have gone to otherwise.” She cracked her left hand’s knuckles and flexed her fingers. Rotating her ankles, she angled herself so she could watch him.

  Through low-lidded gaze, she stared at his strong hands as they caressed the wheel. Firm yet gentle. He handled her well. I’m sure he handles a lot of things well. Crap, she had to stop thinking this way or she was liable to orgasm in his car, and he probably wouldn’t on board with that happening. Not with the money he paid for this vehicle.

  He glanced at her and stared long enough to begin another wave of wetness, but not long enough to put them in danger of getting into another lane by accident.

  “I see.”

  Was that an I’m impressed I see or an I don’t give a damn I see? “I’m sure you think you do.”

  That aqua gaze snapped back to her. “I think I see?” He frowned slightly. “Sometimes, I don’t always get your meanings in English. What do you say I think I see?”

  Headache thumping, she just smiled and reached out to pat him on the thigh. “Never mind, just some of my unwarranted sarcasm.”

  Christ, his leg was rock hard. She swore his flesh burned her though his jeans. The muscle jumped, taut, beneath her touch, and she jerked her hand away.

  She swore the heat jacked up about a thousand degrees in the space of a heartbeat. His fingers tightened on the wheel, and he moved the car over three lanes toward the exit. Twenty-two miles didn’t take long, especially in a Porsche. Silence lingered between them as he navigated his way up Alaskan and to the hotel entrance.

  “You can drop me here,” she said as he slowed to pull in.

&nbs
p; “Why would I do that?”

  “You may not want to be seen at a hotel with me. Just trying to think of the press and how they may spin it.”

  “They can go fuck themselves. I will see you to your room.”

  “Not necessary.”

  He parked and faced her, one hand gripping her chin. “It’s very necessary.”

  God, she wanted to purr and rub against him. “Your call.”

  “It always is,” he said, climbing out and moving to her door where he opened it for her.

  “You’re definitely not lacking in the confidence area.” She slipped by him and, again, swore he sniffed her hair.

  “No, I’m not.” His hand settled against the small of her back once more, and he guided her to the front door.

  He was recognized immediately, and she fell back as the group who’d identified him pulled out phones and paper for him to sign. Alone, she walked to the concierge’s desk. As she went through the procedure, her attention continually swung back to the man who smiled and signed autographs, as well as took pictures with his fans.

  Accepting her key, she thanked the man and turned to find a solid wall of male chest before her. Lord, had she said he smelled good? That was a lie. Delicious. Sinful. She wanted to push up on her toes and mash her lips to his. Sniff his neck. Ask him if she could have her wicked way with him.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled.

  “All set?”

  “Yes, thanks again for the ride. Sure I don’t owe you anything for coming out of your way?”

  He put his gaze on her, and just like that, her world fell into a vacuum where there wasn’t anything but the two of them. The noise from the others faded, and her zone of focus narrowed to just him. Like they had been encased in a cone of silence.

  “Invite me up to your room.”

  She licked her lips and wanted to yell when his eyes darkened. “Yes,” she replied, wanting sex with him more than she wanted her next breath. It had been way too long.

  He took off his hat, raked a hand through his hair, and replaced it. “Which floor?”