The Trouble with #9 by Piper Rayne

I’m in Mr. Gerhardt’s suite again for a home game, and I can’t get this feeling in my gut to go away. We’re playing Warner Langley’s team, and usually when the Fury plays against him, Maksim follows Langley as though he’s his shadow. I’ve heard rumors about some kind of bad blood between Ford and Langley, but I’ve never asked Maksim about it. I sit as close as I can, wishing I could be in the front row to somehow rein Maksim in.

“You’ve been busy,” Jana says, sitting right next to me.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, just give me the details so I can live vicariously through you.”

I laugh. If she only knew how many times I’ve wanted to live her life over the years. “Not much to say. Just spending a lot of time with you-know-who.”

“A lot is an understatement. Are you guys, like, living together now?” She sips her martini, then twirls her stick with three olives around in the vodka.

“No. Stop it.” I keep my gaze on the ice, waiting for the inevitable.

“You can’t even take your eyes off of him for one second.” She laughs, leaning back and crossing her legs. “Did you see this guy my dad has here tonight?”

I glance over my shoulder. “Is that Kane Burrows?”

Damn, he’s even finer than I remember. He has a full beard and chin-length brown hair that has a bit of a wave to it. Kane played professional hockey until this season, when he didn’t get signed by a team. Word is that he had something personal going on in his life and lost focus. I wonder if he’s here hoping to play for the Fury next year.

“That would be him, and man, is the guy arrogant.”

“Hot though.” I raise my eyebrows at her.

She rolls her eyes. “And he knows it.”

Just before I look away, I catch Kane glancing in Jana’s direction, his gaze lingering on her body. Huh.

Then I return my attention to the ice as Maksim nails Langley against the boards again. This results in Maksim’s second penalty of the night, and we’re only in the first period.

I continue talking to Jana a bit about Maksim, not divulging my weariness over him hiding things from me. I can’t share that much with her here for fear of someone overhearing us.

In the second period, I cringe when Maksim trips Langley, giving Maksim his third penalty of the night.

“He better watch it or he’s out for the game,” I whisper.

Jana’s hand lands on my forearm. “You know you can’t control him, right? You can’t control how he plays out there,” she says in a low voice so no one overhears.

I stare at her hand. I guess I am that transparent. “I know.”

“Then calm down. Whatever he does is his own problem.”

Oh, how nice it would be if that were true. But I care for Maksim. I want him to talk about his issues so he can enjoy hockey again and not feel pressured to right every wrong that happens out on the ice. It’s not good for him emotionally or for his career. I’m pretty sure he gets on that ice with one mission—to make sure everyone knows they can’t fuck with any of the Fury or they’ll have to answer to him.

But I saw the look on his face when he was with the Fury Juniors. When he was skating with his friends just to skate. It was a side of him I’ve never seen when he’s playing a Fury game. I understand that there are enforcers in hockey, but Maksim takes it to a different level. He needs to let go of his guilt about Armen’s death.

But I can’t force the man to seek out help he doesn’t want. Part of me thinks I should just sign off on his therapy so we can come out as a couple. I’ve been holding it over his head for so long and he’s yet to even ask for a referral.

Maybe Jana’s right. I can’t control the way he is. Either I love him for him, or I end whatever we have if I can’t deal with it.

As I’m coming to the realization that I need to stop pushing therapy on him, Maksim charges another player, earning his fourth penalty of the night. One more and he’s out of the game.

“See what I’m talking about? We’re barely in the second and there he goes again. He needs to stop giving the other team power plays,” Mr. Gerhardt says from behind me, Kane Burrows beside him.

Jana pretends not to notice Kane, which is her telltale sign that she finds him attractive. Not that I think she’ll ever admit it. He’s not her usual type—he’s much too rough around the edges and burly for that—but he is definitely nice to look at.

“That’s his job. I’m a firm believer in having an enforcer on the team. Keeps your top guys like Drake and Jacobs free of injury if he does his job right.” I like Burrows’s thought process. He shares the same one as Maksim.

Maksim gets out of the penalty box, and I see the look in his eye when I look at the Jumbotron. Even the announcers on the TV behind me say how pissed Maksim is after a bad call by the referee. I might as well just wait for him to get ejected.

Aiden has the puck down by our end and Maksim is weaving in front of Langley to make sure he can’t get to the puck.

“Here he goes,” I whisper.

Knowing Maksim’s number now, another player on Langley’s team distracts Maksim. Langley’s skates leave the ice and he clips Aiden, but the refs don’t see it. What the refs miss, Maksim doesn’t. He hip checks the guy they brought in to distract him from Langley, skating toward his original target. Maksim rises off his skates and pounds into Langley, making him fall to the ice and almost crash into the boards headfirst.

The refs blow the whistles and the crowd roars.

I close my eyes, not wanting to see what’s about to happen. Peeking one eye open, I see Maksim fling his arms out to get the hands of his teammates off him. He walks off the ice and down the hallway to the locker rooms, knowing he’s out for the game.

I blow out a breath.

“I guess therapy didn’t work, huh, Paisley?” Mr. Gerhardt puts his hand on my shoulder.

I stand and round the back of my seat. “Apparently not.”

And that’s the truth. He’s gone and gotten himself ejected. How the hell is he going to protect his boys from the locker room? I know that’s what matters to him.

“I have someone I’d like to introduce you to,” Mr. Gerhardt says to me.

I blink at his quick change of subject. “Another fix-up?”

“What can I say? I find guys that are your type all the time, and since my daughter doesn’t allow me to fix her up, I choose my second daughter.”

Mr. Gerhardt is always making me feel like a part of their family, which I normally appreciate. Just not in this instance. “My schedule is pretty booked.”

“One night out won’t kill you.”

I smile politely, not wanting to make a big deal of it in front of all these people. “Can you excuse me? I need to use the restroom.”

I leave the suite and head down to the locker rooms, showing security my employee pass. Nudging the door open a little, I find Maksim stripping off his pads and throwing them into his locker.

“Maks?” I say.

He turns to me, the anger softening on his face. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to check on you.” I look behind me and step inside, closing the door.

“I’m fine. Fucking refs don’t call shit. What are they being paid for?” He tears off everything, leaving him in just his jockstrap. He sits on the bench in front of his locker and throws his head into his hands, his hair slicked with sweat. “I’m sick of being the only one who sees this shit.”

I hear a television with the game on in the next room. I wish I could go turn it off. He just needs to chill at this point.

I stand in front of him, putting my hands on his head. He widens his legs and pulls me into him, snuggling his face into my stomach and clenching the back of my shirt. This poor man and the burden he carries with him every game. I wish I could ease some of the load for him.

His hands inch my shirt up, his lips pressing to my stomach.

“Maksim,” I sigh. It feels good, but we’re in the locker room where anyone could walk in at any time.

“Shh…” he says, unbuttoning my jeans and sliding them down my legs.

Even though I know I shouldn’t, I let him. His finger slides the crotch of my panties over and runs along my folds while his other hand snakes up my shirt and grabs a hold of my breast.

“I need you so fucking bad.” He pushes my jeans down the entire way, so I step out of them and he hoists me up, my legs wrapping around his middle.

God, he feels incredible. The calloused tips of his fingers massaging my ass, his hot, wet kisses along my collarbone. As much as I feel as though I should push him away, I can’t.

He gets my back up against a locker and shifts to hold me in one of his arms while he frees himself from the jockstrap. Teasing me with the tip of his hard cock, he runs it through my wetness.

“Condom?” I ask.

“I’m clean.”

I bite my lip. I’m on the pill. I was waiting to tell him until we were at that stage of our relationship, but I’m not sure I can hold out. We have an entire period before that team will come in here.

“Me too, and I’m on the pill.”

He doesn’t even acknowledge my words before he pushes into me, making me lose my breath. His dick fills me completely. Nothing has ever made me feel more like his than when he looks me in the eye with such conviction when he’s inside me. As though I’m the one who can change his mood. Remove his burdens. Make him happy or sad. The man’s eyes give away every feeling inside him, and I close mine briefly with the knowledge of what we are to one another.

“Goddamn, you feel so good, kotik.” He’s doing most of the work, so I pull my T-shirt behind my head and pull down my bra straps, wanting and needing his hot mouth on my nipples. As soon as they’re free, he’s there, licking, sucking, and nibbling.

“Don’t stop. Please don’t ever stop.”

“Never, krasavitsa. Never.”

I love when he uses Russian words for me. I don’t know what they all mean, but I know I’m the only one in his life that he uses them with.

He growls into my neck and my back hits the lockers over and over. It’s noisy, but I don’t care. We’re both chasing the high of what we are together. I wrap my arms around his neck, needing to ground myself to get max enjoyment. His head is in my breasts and he’s switching his attention from one to the other.

Sweat forms between us, and murmurs of swear words and praise for one another leave us both. I use my legs around his hips as leverage to help him with the momentum that’s going to have each of us screaming in a moment.

Just when I think my orgasm will never crest, it’s like a rogue wave crashes into me. Maksim doesn’t let up, pumping into me until his hips jerk one final time and he pushes his face into my neck. After we both come, we don’t move or talk. We’re exhausted and breathless as he stands there, holding my weight.

On the television, the announcers are talking about Aiden racing with the puck down the center, passing to Ford, who passes back.

“Here comes Langley,” one says, and Maksim tenses in my arms.

“This doesn’t look good,” the other announcer says.

“And Langley nails Drake to the wall, and Drake is down.”

I lower my legs and Maksim sets my feet on the floor before he leaves me to go watch the television.

“This isn’t good. The way these two teams play, lambasting one another. I think we knew when Petrov left the game Langley would use it to his advantage.”

I get dressed while listening and hear medics being called out to the ice. By the time we’re both dressed and walking out of the locker room, Aiden is unconscious and being wheeled out of the arena.