Lucky Hit (Swift Hat-Trick Trilogy Book 1)

My gear is heavy on my aching muscles, but I keep pushing, finishing the rest of my breakaway exercise as if I’m not a few deep breaths away from going into cardiac arrest. I line up my shot and shoot, sending the puck flying off my stick. It rings off the top bar before sinking into the back of the net.

Braden and Tyler fly up beside me before stopping, snow shooting up from where their blades cut the ice. They grumble about how they nearly got me while Matt scoops the puck out and passes it back to me. I kick it to the centreline as Coach starts scolding one of the fourth liners for taking a corner with his head down on the opposite end of the ice. I grimace at the anger in his voice.

Knowing that practice is coming to an end, I skate to the bench and take my helmet and gloves off before grabbing my water bottle and squirting the cold liquid all over my sweat-streaked face. I groan at the feeling before drinking the rest of my water.

“What a dumbass. Rogers couldn’t keep his head up on that scrawny neck of his to save his life. How he got a spot on this team is beyond me.” David’s brash laugh grates against my eardrums from his place amongst a group of our younger players.

Anger bubbles in my blood, but I stay quiet, choosing to continue listening to David run his mouth. My restraint is already hanging by a frayed string after learning about Ava’s past last week, and David’s only painting a larger target on his back.

I’ve never put up with anyone who cheats on the person they supposedly care about, but this prick really went above and beyond. He cheated on her, fully knowing about her past with abandonment and everything she’s gone through. He doesn’t care either. There’s no remorse or guilt.

While Ava didn’t spell it out for me, it was easy to piece together why she’s so cautious when it comes to building connections with people. David is just some pussy-hungry piece of shit who didn’t care about her the way she deserved.

“Someone needs to knock him on his ass the next time he skates like he’s scared of his own shadow. He ain’t got no place on my team,” he continues.

“Your team?” I snap, turning to glare at David and the sheepish-looking players standing beside him.

His head snaps up in my direction, and his lips part in surprise. “Oh—hi, Hutton. We were just joking around.”

“Is that what that was?” I toss my water bottle back over the boards, running my fingers through my wet hair when I shift back toward the group. “It sounded a lot to me like you were talking shit about one of your teammates. Someone less experienced than you, at that.”

He blanches. “No way, man. Rogers knows it’s all in love. Right, boys?” His attention desperately falls on his friends. All three of them look at me, their mouths opening and closing over and over again.

I ignore them and skate toward their ringleader, stopping a couple of feet away. “We don’t talk shit about our teammates. Ever. Rogers might need more help than others, but he’s on this team for a reason. Maybe you should watch some of our past games and see exactly why that is. I can tell you right now it isn’t because he hates passing off potential shots like you or dishing out dirty hits he can’t take right back.”

Someone around us sucks in a sharp breath, but I really don’t care who it was. As far as I’m concerned, it’s just me and Remer right now.

“We’re a team, Remer. It’s wise you remember that.” The warning is heavy in my words.

I furrow my brows when suddenly, he’s smirking at me. My stomach sinks.

“You almost had me there for a minute,” he says, and when I refuse to show any sort of reaction to his words, his poisonous smirk only grows. “This isn’t about Rogers at all. This is about Ava.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I think I do. Green eyes, long, brown hair that wraps around your knuckles just the right way. Phenomenal ass.”

My laugh is harsh, dark. “You’re going to want to stop talking now.”

The air between us is tense, too tense for everyone around not to notice. Several sets of eyes prick my skin as my chest rises and falls way too rapidly to continue acting unaffected. My fingers curl, nails biting my palms.

“What’s going on?” Matt’s voice cuts through the silence. He skates up beside me, staring at David and the players behind him. “Practice is done. Get the fuck to the dressing room,” he orders, and they quickly scurry off.

“Hey, Matty boy. Nice of you to join us,” David sneers.

“Shut up, Remer. From the looks of things, you’re lucky you haven’t been concussed yet.”

I shrug and look at Matt, ignoring the fuming player in front of me. “He acts brave, like he doesn’t turtle every time a hit comes at him. Thoughts?”

Matt meets my stare with a slow smile. It’s a sign that we’re both thinking the same thing. David deserves to be knocked on his ass, and all of the guys have been wanting an opportunity to be the one to dish out his punishment. But the best payback will be the kind that doesn’t require my knuckles to bleed or for any of us to miss our next couple of games.

No, he needs to be the one with bloody knuckles. The best revenge is best served cold, and I want Remer to freeze.

“You’re right. It’s cute he thinks we haven’t all noticed that.”

“I’m right fucking here,” David snarls.

We continue to ignore him, and I can nearly taste his rage in the air. “I wonder what would happen if we stopped protecting him,” Matt says.

As soon as a hand grabs my shoulder and shoves, I let a smile part my lips. Playing dumb, I stare at him blankly and ask, “What? Did you have something to add?”

His lip curls as he snarls, “What happened to never talking shit about our teammates?”

“You’re no teammate of mine. You’ll never be worthy of that label or a position on this team. If I had it my way, you would never touch another team roster.”

It doesn’t take long before he’s pulling his arm back and throwing a surprisingly strong punch right at me. I grin when his fist connects with my face. The pain is instant, and the skin above my eyebrow busts open. Warm blood drips from my head, hitting the ice.

Voices begin to shout around us, but I keep staring at David, loving the way his jaw ticks with blinding rage.

“Thank you,” I tell him, my voice low as Matt steps in and starts to shove David back, away from me.

“For what?” he shouts.

“For proving that the trash is indeed fully capable of taking itself out.”

An hour later, I’m stitched up and in the passenger side of Matt’s car. His phone is plugged into the aux cord, and “My Own Worst Enemy” by Lit fills the silence between us.

Matt refused to let me drive myself home after being on the receiving end of a hard hit to the head, with the promise of returning my truck to me tomorrow.

The drive to our apartment goes quickly, and as we pull into our parking stall, I say, “Thank you for backing me up earlier. I appreciate it.”

He puts the car in park and turns it off. “Don’t worry about it. You’re one of us now, and we take care of each other around here. I’ve been wanting to beat that asshole’s face in for months now, but this is an even bigger win.”

“How many games do you think he’ll be out for?”

“At least three. Coach has never looked that pissed off. Think he’ll give you shit too?”

I reach over my shoulder and grab our bags from the back seat. After dropping his in his lap, I tighten my grip on mine, and we step outside.

Once we start walking up the sidewalk, I say, “Probably. Remer didn’t punch me for no reason.”

“He won’t sit you.”

“No, he won’t.”

Matt pulls open the building door, and we head inside, taking the stairs two at a time. “Not going to lie, man, you looked like a fucking psycho when he hit you. That bloody smile? No, thanks.”

“Maybe Remer will see me in his dreams tonight.”

“Nightmares, maybe,” Matt chokes out.

Our apartment door is already unlocked when I slip my key in, and I give him a questioning look. He simply shrugs and walks right in, not even bothering to take his shoes off before going to his room.

My next breath comes out in a rush when a small body collides with my chest and wraps around me with a steel grip. The arms that were hanging at my sides slowly wrap around the body when I smell the familiar perfume.

“Are you okay? Morgan called and said Matt told her you were in a fight. What happened?” Ava asks in a rush.

I pull away from her and watch her eyes widen in shock as she reaches up and brushes her fingers around the stitched wound above my left brow.

“It’s not as bad as it looks.” Covering her hand with mine, I pull it away from my face and link our fingers instead.

“It was David, wasn’t it? That prick. Crap, I’m so sorry this happened,” she sighs.

Shrugging, I give her a small smile. “It was worth it. Trust me.”

“No, it wasn’t. He is not worth you being hurt.”

“Stop,” I murmur, gently pinching her chin and forcing her to look at me. There’s far too much sadness in her eyes. “I can’t change the past, but I could make sure that he knew he wasn’t getting off scot-free for what he did. Trust me when I say I would take a hundred more punches if it meant he would get punished for hurting you.”

She smiles softly. “Has anyone ever told you that you have a bleeding heart?”

“Not many people have gotten the chance to figure that out about me.”

“I have.”

I bend down until our lips brush, her breath mixing with mine. “Yeah, baby. You have.”

She stretches on her tiptoes and kisses me, not wasting another second. I groan at the sensation of her mouth on mine again, not caring how desperate it makes me seem.

Ava pushes against me, her chest flush to mine. There’s no doubt in my mind that there will never be anything that compares to the feeling of her body against mine and her tiny sounds of pleasure filling my mouth. I continue to take and take from her, utterly obsessed with the way she does the same.

My hands fall to her waist, and I squeeze, digging my fingers into the skin. A heavy sense of possessiveness has me sliding my hands down over her hips and round ass before gripping her thighs and lifting her.

Mine, mine, mine.

She wraps her thighs around my waist and whimpers when our bodies line up in a way that has my cock pressing against her legging-clad core.

A ripple of pleasure has a groan hitting her lips. “We need to slow down,” I rasp.

“We do,” she breathes but slides her mouth to my jaw, kissing all of the skin she can find on her way to my throat.

I walk us to the couch and sit down, keeping her planted on my lap. She cries out when I thrust my hips and my hard length grinds against her.

“Shhh, sweetheart. Matt could hear you.” Her eyes flare at that, and I groan. “Does that turn you on? The thought of him hearing how good I want to make you feel?”

Shakily, she nods her head, and my restraint snaps

Holding her stare, I move my hand between us and brush the waistband of her leggings. When she only parts her lips and drops her eyes to watch, I slip my fingers inside and curse when I feel nothing but hot, bare skin.

The first touch of my finger against her wet flesh has my dick throbbing, and for a second, I fear I’m about to shoot my load in my pants like some virgin. Her whimper as I slide one long digit through her slick flesh doesn’t help.

“You’re so wet.” I sound like I’ve swallowed glass.

She just nods and pushes against my hand, seeking more. I give it to her, dipping a finger inside. Her pussy is tight and so fucking hot, sucking me in and weeping when I slide my finger out before starting to fuck her with it.

Her eyes drift shut as her body shudders. “Yes, Oakley. Please.”

“Please what?” I move my finger slowly, and her eyes open, the vulnerability she’s feeling hitting me like a hammer to the chest. The tip of my finger circles her wet hole. “Please keep doing this?”

“No.” Cheeks a deep pink, she grinds against my palm and begs, “Make me come. Please, I need you to make me come.”

“Okay, baby. I’ll give you what you want,” I whisper, thrusting a second and third finger inside of her alongside the first. She rests her hands on my shoulders and rides my hand, her nails digging deep into my skin.

With quick, desperate movements, I’m shoving her shirt up and over her breasts and pinching her nipple through her sheer beige bra. Her inner walls quiver around my fingers, and I lean toward her, my breath heating her ear.

“Come, Ava. Let me hear what you sound like when you let go. Let everyone know how good it feels.”

As I press my palm to her clit and she rocks forward, meeting me, I both feel and see her go off. I watch with a slack jaw as she comes, her head flying back and her body curled in ecstasy. She jerks in my lap, and my fingers keep filling her, even as she flings forward and catches my stare. The sounds that come from the slow movement of my fingers inside of her drenched pussy are beyond dirty, but I can’t seem to get enough. Not until she touches my arm and I notice the slight wince that travels across her face when she shifts.

I quickly remove my fingers and slip them between my lips, sucking her taste off them. She shudders against me.

“Are you okay? I wasn’t too rough with you, was I?”

She shakes her head and presses a gentle kiss to my lips. “No. I’m more than okay.”

“Good.” I pull her shirt back down and drag my thumb back and forth over her hip.

She folds in my lap, curling up against my chest. “Are you staying?”

That same vulnerability that I saw earlier is back, this time causing her voice to wobble. It doesn’t take a brainiac to realize she’s talking about more than just tonight.

“Yeah, sweetheart. I’m staying.”