Delay of Game: Springwood, #6

By Aliyah Burke

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 Vale's brother's hockey team 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?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sensual Romance Publishing
• Release date: Sep 2, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393173687

Aliyah Burke

USA Today bestselling author Aliyah Burke is an avid reader and is never far from pen and paper (or the computer). She is happily married to a career military man. They are owned by six Borzoi. She spends her days at the day job, writing, and working with her dogs.

Book preview

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