Puck Pact: A Marriage of Convenience Hockey Romance (East Coast Series)

“I can’t believe you’re reenacting porn videos with your fake boyfriend.”

Cassidy smirks as she texts Trenton from across the VIP room. “It’s strictly for research purposes.”

I purse my lips. “Yeah, sure. You’re only doing it because you want to write about it in your romance books. It has nothing to do with the fact that you’re having the best sex of your life with a gorgeous hockey star.”

She grins. “It really is the best sex of my life.”

“Well, good for you. You deserve it after limp-dick Sheldon.”

It sucks seeing your best friend get cheated on by a guy who didn’t deserve her in the first place. I’ve plotted his death in seven different ways. Just waiting on the green light from her to make my move. I’m confident I can make it look like a painful accident.

Cassidy bumps me with her shoulder. “Who was the best sex of your life?”

“I refuse to assume that I’ve had the best sex of my life yet. If the best sex I’ve had is the best sex I’ll ever have, then I might as well go fling myself into traffic right now.”

“I thought you had fun with that guy from the Bronx.”

“Eh, I’d give him a solid six. At least he didn’t rub my clit raw like the rest of them. I don’t understand why they think they have to treat it like they’re buffing out a scratch on their car. It’s sensitive. Fucking take it easy, DJ Scribble.”

Cassidy tilts her head back as she laughs. “Some of them really are clueless unless you teach them.”

“Maybe you’ve got the right idea. Maybe I have to start showing men videos of what I want them to do in the bedroom. It’s working wonders for you.”

“Make a PowerPoint presentation.”

“Now there’s an idea.” I heave a sigh, glancing over the railing at the dance floor below. “I’m so sick of these dating apps. The guys are all the same. They take you to their apartment—most of which haven’t seen a Swiffer duster in months—and they all do that same jackrabbit maneuver for exactly three minutes until they come.”

Cassidy cringes. “Maybe you should take a break from those apps. You’re burning yourself out.”

I spin around and lean my back against the railing. “At this rate, I’m better off staying in and using my vibrator. She’s never let me down.”

While Cassidy goes back to texting her fake boyfriend, a man steps inside the VIP room, garnering all of my attention.

Tall with dark features, he’s wearing a black button-up with the sleeves rolled along his muscular forearms, and a pair of jeans that hug his thick legs. He towers over the rest of the hockey players around him as he nods hello to them before lowering himself to sit beside Trenton. His large body looks disproportionate to the velvet couch under him. The length of one of his black dress shoes looks like two of mine stacked together.

SZA’s Big Boy immediately starts playing in my head.

I know hockey players are generally big guys, but I can’t imagine this one gliding across the rink on ice skates. He looks more like the chopping-a-tree-in-the-woods type. Better yet, he’s the damn tree…and I’d like to climb it.

I nudge Cassidy with my elbow. “Hey, who’s the guy who just walked in and sat down next to Trenton?”

Cassidy glances up from her phone. “That’s Alexander Krum. He’s the captain of the Goldfinches. They call him Krum Cake.”

There’s nothing that looks “crumb cake” about this guy. More like a rich chocolate cake with a silky-smooth chocolate frosting. The kind you pick apart with your hands, and suck the remnants off your fingertips so that you get every last drop.

Delicious as sin.

“Well, I’ll call him sex on a stick.”

Cassidy laughs as she slips her phone into her purse. “Come on. Let’s go say hi. I haven’t met him yet.”

We’re out celebrating the Goldfinches’ win tonight. I haven’t seen a single hockey game in my life, but if the players look like this Alexander Krum Cake guy, a girl might start watching.

Trenton stands and wraps his arm around Cassidy’s waist as he introduces us to Alexander. “This is Cassidy, and her best friend Aarya.”

Alexander pushes to his full height and shakes Cassidy’s hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I’m halfway through your book. It’s excellent.”

I choke back a laugh. I can’t picture this giant, menacing man reading a sappy romance novel.

Cassidy’s mouth falls open. “You’re reading Say You’ll Stay?”

Trenton beams. “All the guys are.”

My best friend is a badass bestselling romance author, and I love seeing her get the recognition she deserves whenever someone tells her how much they love her writing.

Cassidy gives me a playful shove. “Would you look at that? Professional hockey players are reading my book, yet my own best friend hasn’t.”

I scoff. “I’ve read your sex scenes.”

“Not the same thing.”

Alexander’s head tilts as he sets his dark-brown eyes on me. “Why haven’t you read her books?”

I shrug. “I’m not into reading. And I can’t stand that Hallmark channel romance bullshit.”

His eyebrows jump. “You think love is bullshit?”

“I didn’t say love is bullshit. I just don’t buy into all that romantic crap. It sets these unrealistic expectations for women. No guy is going to do the things you read in a book. It’s damaging for a young girl to read that and assume a man is going to come along and sweep her off her feet.”

He crosses his arms over his chest as if I’ve personally offended him. “Men can be romantic.”

Getting yourself off and asking, “Was it good for you?” right before you call her an Uber doesn’t constitute as romantic, buddy.

I huff out a laugh. “I’ve never met a man who has done any of those things in her books.”

“Then you haven’t been spending time with the right kind of men.”

Here we go. The I’m different than other guys speech. Why do men bother pretending like they’re not all the same? Why go through all that work, just to end up an I told you so the very next day?This content belongs to Nô/velDra/ma.Org .

I roll my eyes. “There are billions of people in the world—there’s no way that there’s one end-all-be-all for each of us.”

It’s foolish to think that you can love one person for the rest of your life. That’s a long-ass time, and people get bored of each other after a while. It’s the reason the divorce rate is so high.

Another one of Trenton’s teammates chimes in. “Come on. You can’t tell me there’s no such thing as love.” He gestures between Cassidy and Trenton. “Just look at these two love birds. They’re fucking adorable.”

I inwardly cringe. The guys don’t know that Cassidy and Trenton are only pretending to date. Something about helping Trenton’s image after he got traded for some bullshit that went down with his old team in Seattle. The guys are oblivious to the fact that their goalie isn’t actually in a committed, loving relationship with my best friend.

Cassidy gazes up at Trenton. “What do you think? Do you believe in soulmates and the romantic bullshit I write?”

“I believe in love.” Trenton brushes a strand of hair from her face. “I believe in caring about someone so much that you’d do anything for them. I believe in putting someone’s happiness over your own. I believe in showing them every single day how much they mean to you, even if it’s in little ways to let them know you’re thinking of them. So, whether romance means flowers and jewelry, or taking a lavish trip to Greece, or simply showing up when they need you, I think the right person will do those things for you when he loves you. And if it’s real, no one and nothing could take that love away.”

Damn. It’s a beautiful notion. And if I didn’t know better, I’d believe him. But I’m a realist.

Alexander turns to me as he jerks his thumb toward Trenton. “The way he’s looking at her? That isn’t fake romance bullshit. That is real love.”

I’m about to argue my point further, but Cassidy locks eyes with me, and I can see the sadness reflecting in them. In the midst of their fake dating situation, Cassidy has developed very real feelings for the star goalie, and all this talk about true love isn’t helping.

So, I bite my tongue and pat Alexander on the shoulder. “Whatever you say, Big Man.” Then I hook my elbow around Cassidy’s and tug her away from the group before they can see the tears welling in her eyes. “Let’s go dance.”

We head downstairs and make our way onto the dance floor.

Once we’re in the middle of the sea of sweaty bodies, I lean in and shout over the music. “You okay?”

“Yeah, that was just…” Cassidy shakes her head, her voice trailing off.

“Intense?”

She laughs. “Exactly.”

“I don’t know, Cass. From where I was standing, Trent looked sincere. I think you two need to have a conversation about how you feel.”

“He was just faking it. And I will not be the one who catches feelings in this scenario.”

“Not even if he catches feelings too?”

“I don’t know.” She shakes her head as if to wipe the idea from her mind. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Let’s just have fun tonight.”

Now that I can do. “Got it, boss.”

We let the music take over as we move to the rhythm of 90s R&B pumping through the speakers. We let loose and forget about the weird world of fake dating and hockey players for a while.

It’s not long before Trenton appears behind Cassidy, wrapping himself around her. I flash her a knowing smile, and back away to give them space.

But I back up into a wall of heat.

“Would you like to dance?” Alexander’s voice is deep, and his breath is hot against my neck.

I glance over my shoulder to meet his dark eyes. “You’re asking consent to dance? What a gentleman.”

“A man should always ask permission before he touches a woman.”

I spin around and wrap my hands around the back of his neck, pushing my body flush against his. “Permission granted.”

My best friend is a hopeless romantic, and I hope for her sake that Trenton is good to her so she can be in the committed relationship she wants to be in. Me on the other hand? I’m only interested in one thing, and something tells me that one night with this gentle giant of a man might be well-worth my time.

Alexander’s hands settle on my hips as we start to move. My backless halter dress leaves little to the imagination, and any other guy would’ve trailed his fingers down my spine, or slipped them underneath the fabric. But not this man.

And the fact that he hasn’t only makes me want him to do it more.

I lift my chin and bring my lips to his ear. “Any man in here would’ve asked me to go home with him by now.”

He chuckles, low and deep. “I’m not that kind of man.”

“Please. Every man is that kind of man.”

“You’re too young to be this jaded.”

“I’m realistic, not jaded.”

He pulls back to look at me. “Either you’ve been burned by someone, or you’ve never been in love. So, which one is it?”

I roll my eyes. “Oh, fun. You’re psychoanalyzing me now. Do you want me to lay down on the couch upstairs while you take notes and ask me about my childhood? I’m sure we can find a clipboard for you around here somewhere.”

He smirks. “Defensive too. Someone sure did a number on you.”

I press a palm against his chest and push him backward a few steps. “Just because I don’t want to be married with two kids and a white picket fence doesn’t mean I have trauma. I don’t want to be tied down, just tied up. So, if you’re not going to do it, I’m going to find someone who will.”

His large hand wraps around my wrist, tugging me back into his arms. “Have you been tied up before?”

“Is that an offer?”

“That would take a certain level of trust. You shouldn’t let just anyone tie you up.”

“Are you saying I shouldn’t trust you?”

“You shouldn’t. You just met me.”

“I can handle myself.” I arch a brow. “The question you should be asking is: Can you handle me?”

One corner of Alexander’s mouth tips up, and a dimple sinks into his cheek. “I have no doubt.”

Confidence oozes off this man, so sure of himself that he could give me exactly what I’m looking for. And that deep voice filled with promise sends a shiver of need down my spine.

“You talk a big game. You should put your money where your mouth is.”

His fingertips dig into my hips. “You’re so willing to give up this beautiful body without making a man earn it first. It should be a privilege to touch you. Something a man works for, to prove himself worthy.”

“If I waited for a man to prove himself worthy of me, I’d die a lonely old woman.”

“Let me take you on a date.”

“Or we can skip the boring part and you can take me home.” I drag my lips along the side of his neck, nipping at his earlobe. “I don’t want your honor or your chivalry. I just want you without your clothes on.”

A low groan leaves him, rumbling in his chest.

Still, he doesn’t say yes.

“You have a lot to say about me, but what about you?” My teeth graze the stubble along his jaw. “At least I’m living my life. I see something I want, and I take it. I think something, I say it. But you’re so concerned about being a proper gentleman that you’re missing the fun. You think you’re in control, but you’re just restrained. Repressed. What kind of life are you living if you’re always holding back?”

His lush mouth tips into a frown, and when I look into his eyes, I know I’ve struck a nerve.

I take his hands and guide them over the swell of my ass. “I want you to touch me, and I know you want to. So why bother depriving yourself? For one night, why don’t you just let go?”

He rests his forehead against mine, his chest and shoulders heaving as he fights for his breaths. I can almost hear the silent debate warring in his mind.

Come on, Big Man. Let go.

“Take me home,” I whisper against his lips.

But those words that’ve never failed me once, not ever, have the effect of a cold bucket of water on this man.

He shakes his head as he pulls back, hitting me with a regretful look. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

Then he turns around and disappears through the crowd.

And I’m left standing there wondering how in the hell I just got rejected.