Donovan (Face-Off 3)

“Jen, c’mon, can you leave it alone? I just need time to work on things.”

“No, because if you fail, so do I. And I will not let that happen. Do you understand me?” In some ways, Jenny is right. She’s the reason I found hockey, the light to my darkness back when I needed something to fill the void. Jenny was my cheerleader and has always been my biggest fan. If I needed a ride to practice, she was there to drive me. When I outgrew my skates, Jenny worked extra shifts at the diner to get me new ones.

I sigh at her comment. Because I know she’s right, and I hate to admit it. “Fine. When are you coming?”

She squeals with delight. “Let me check with Steve, but I should be able to come down in the next month or so. With Kyle in daycare, I need to figure out an exact date, but I will let you know as soon as Steve gets home from work. Sound good?”

“Yes, that works for me.” I grin like an idiot at the thought of my sister coming to visit. My God, I missed her and knowing she will be here soon, gives me hope. “Are you coming with Kyle and Steve?”

“I’m not sure yet. Let me see what Steve wants to do. No matter what, you will get me at a bare minimum.”

“Okay. Just text me the dates later.” I turn the key in the ignition, and the Hummer comes to life. Sydney might get the wrong idea if she looks out into the parking lot of her apartment complex and finds me parked here like some stalker. Especially after I’d told Sydney I had things to do. That part was not a lie, but I did want to mess with her head and her body, the same way she has mine.

“Yay!” She yells into my ear, forcing me to hold the phone away from my ear. “Talk soon. Love you, baby bro.”

“Love you, too, big sis.”

I smile as I hang up the phone. Maybe Jenny can help me sort out my shit and get me back on track. I keep my fingers crossed that will happen because my team needs her. They just don’t know it yet.

Chapter 6

Sydney

If the screen could talk back, what would it say?

Random shit like that pops into my head as I stare at my computer monitor for the thousandth time today. I am one crazy ass bitch. Maybe I should fuck Carter and get it out of my system.

Distracted by Carter and his rock hard body and sexy smirk, I cannot stop thinking about how he fingered my pussy, and then bailed on me as if that wasn’t a shitty thing to do. I guess I deserved it. After all, I did start this game.

As a romance author, I spend a lot of my time locked away in my writing cave for hours or days on end. Today is no different. With my current deadlines, I’m cranking out between five to ten thousand words per day, typing faster than I had ever imagined. Or at least I was until I met Carter. He screwed up everything, messed with my Zen. I need it back.

How did I let him get under my skin?

One thing I’ve always had with men are boundaries. Rules and limits are what keep them in check. Otherwise, they’ll walk all over you, or at least that’s my experience with men.

Staring at the document on my screen, my mind drifts between Carter and my story. Get the fuck out of my head! Toned arms, thick calves, chiseled abs, an ass you can bounce quarters off, and that smile…Fuck, fuck, fuckety fuck. I cannot have that sexy caveman invade my writing zone—not unless he wants to find himself in one of my books. At the rate we’re going, that is an excellent possibility. Horny romance author strings along hot as puck hockey player, challenging him to a game. A very kinky sex game.

That could work.

I pick up the notepad and pen in front of me, biting down on the cap, as I consider this idea for a book. But how would it work? Could I even sell a book like this? I could pitch it to my editor and see if he thinks I’m crazy. He usually does, but that doesn’t stop him from going along with my ideas. Because my brand of crazy sells.

Carter has me under a spell. Stringing him along until I make a decision should be easy. But I already made a choice. I want him so bad I can feel him deep down in my bones, aching to be with him. Too bad I have rules, all of which are in place for a reason. By now, he either thinks I have lost my mind or understands that I am in control of this situation. Control is essential for me.

My cell phone rings, vibrating across my desk and toward me. I’m thrilled to have a distraction but also afraid that Carter is on the other end of the call. Or what if it’s my editor? With my writing going nowhere and Carter on the brain, I could be at this plotting shit all day. I hate deadlines, and the outlines my editor insists I write for my books.

That only leads to more half-assed ideas, like the one I’m mulling over for Carter, and a lot of wasted time on my part. And time equals money in this business. If I can’t crank out the books on a decent schedule, the money will disappear along with my sales.

Relief washes over me when I check my Caller ID and see it’s my bestie and co-blogger, Kennedy. I have missed her so damn much lately. My face lights up, a smile reaching up to my eyes and hurting my jaw it’s so wide.

Before she met hotshot Tyler Kane we were an unstoppable duo. Kennedy was the Long Sticks to my Hard Shots in our crazy sports themed sex blog called Long Sticks and Hard Shots. She’s a sports reporter, always adding the sports puns and humor to my sexy, raunchy articles. Now, I hardly ever see her.

We almost never get together to plot out our week of blog posts or new ideas for our followers. Kennedy had moved into Tyler’s mansion with him in New Jersey, just on the other side of the bridge, right after things had gotten serious. Their relationship progressed at an insane rate.

I pick up the phone and hold it up to my ear. “Hey, K. Perfect timing.”

“Oh, yeah? Let me guess. You’re in the middle of writing a scene, and you’re stuck again?” I can hear the condescension in her tone.

She knows me so well it brings a smile to my face. I love that we have this sister thing between us, which makes me miss her even more now that Tyler has stolen her away from me. “How did you guess?” I deadpan.