The Girl With Hearts (Midtown Brotherhood #1) Read online

  The Girl with Hearts

  Savannah Blevins

  The Girl with Hearts

  Copyright © 2015 by Savannah Blevins.

  All rights reserved.

  First Print Edition: November 2015

  Limitless Publishing, LLC

  Kailua, HI 96734

  www.limitlesspublishing.com

  Formatting: Limitless Publishing

  ISBN-13: 978-1-68058-340-3

  ISBN-10: 1-68058-340-9

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 1

  HENRIK’S VISITOR

  Custom tailored suit.

  Check.

  Flawless, panty dropping five o’clock shadow.

  Henrik ran his thumb down the hard line of his chin and smirked to himself.

  Check.

  The ladies in Newark were in for a treat tonight. Usually, he just crashed after games—part of the constant refueling process required of a professional hockey player. As the newly appointed captain, it was his job to set a positive example for the guys now. Every win counted in their eighty-two game season, and discipline was key.

  At least that was the sermon his coach continued to preach at him.

  Responsibility. Teamwork. Blah. Blah. Ugh.

  However, tonight was the season opener, and they’d won decisively against their bitter rivals, the New Jersey Devils. In celebration—because he always looked for a good excuse to celebrate—he planned to ignore the advice of his coach in order to get shit-faced and make good use of his second greatest talent. He’d be lectured for it tomorrow, but it wouldn’t be the first time he showed up for practice hung over and satisfied.

  He slipped his wallet into his back pocket and paused at the mirror for final inspection. Admittedly impressed, he straightened the collar of his navy sports coat. He’d cropped his signature Swedish blond locks short enough to tuck behind his ears. It was his beginning of the season ritual, and it made his blue eyes pop in contrast. That’s what the caramel-haired beauty he’d entertained during his pregame interview had told him, anyway.

  After effectively admiring himself from every angle, he had no choice but to agree with her. Humility had never been his strong suit. In his opinion, he’d finally achieved perfection. Except when he turned his cheek, his eyes narrowed, focusing on the tiny, puckering cut at the corner of his lip. His teeth snapped together.

  Derek Deroty would pay for his intentional attempt to take him out of the game tonight. He might have to wait a couple months until their next scheduled slaughtering, but the bastard would eventually get what was coming to him.

  A high stick to the nose, or maybe he’d finally just drop gloves with the prick.

  For now, he’d just accept it as a battle wound. The girls would love it.

  A light but persistent knock broke the silence. He immediately rolled his eyes, turning away from the mirror. Austin forgot his keycard. Again. He’d forget the days of the week if Henrik weren’t around to kick his ass in gear every morning.

  He searched the counters, but found nothing as he made his way over to the door. It was probably in his gym bag. He bent down to laugh at his best friend through the peephole when—

  “Fuck.”

  It was a woman.

  His head fell against the door as he held back the groan that wanted to follow the mumbling. Why were women so intent on taking all the fun out of the hunt? He at least wanted to have a few drinks first, swap some stories with his teammates who would be mingling among the crowd, and then, as the night drew to a close, he’d start his pursuit. Showing up at his door was equivalent to throwing prepackaged meat to a caged tiger.

  He jerked the door open, prepared to shoo away his visitor like a stray pigeon before making a beeline for the elevator, but then she turned.

  “Henrik.”

  Vibrant green eyes shined up at him, a familiarity he hadn’t expected to find.

  “Leila?” He choked out the word, his hand grasping the door handle like a life preserver. He blinked twice, attempting to convince himself that the disheveled hot mess in front of him was real.

  Leila tugged harshly at a strand of her auburn waves spraying across her bare shoulders and down her back. Her normally flawless, porcelain skin was flushed, and he recognized the volatile glint in her eyes. She wasn’t just pissed. Leila Blakely was on the fuck off side of irate.

  It was definitely real.

  He straightened his shoulders, and then tested his voice before he spoke. “What the hell do you want, Blakely?”

  What did she expect from him? Her scumbag boyfriend had taken a cheap shot at him no more than two hours ago. He still had a little built up aggression brewing inside of him too. She wasn’t there to apologize on Derek’s behalf, he knew that. Sympathy wasn’t part of the Blakely genetic code. He knew that fact firsthand, because his best friend, who knocked heads together for a living, happened to be her older brother.

  “Invite me inside,” she instructed, tucking the wisp of hair behind her ear before running those long, delicate fingers down her throat.

  The gesture almost distracted him, but the sound of her voice set his nerves on edge. Only an idiot would be fooled by the glistening threat of tears in her eyes. He wasn’t about to be lured by the lamb to the wolf’s den. Leila projected an image of sophistication and innocence, but it was all a show. The hologram in front of him was a shell hiding the reality he knew all too well.

  The real Leila wore Converse and ratty hockey shirts. She cursed like a sailor on shore leave, and she was tougher than half the men he knew. Her façade melted away as her temper started to hit its peak. So, after all these years, Leila finally wanted to talk to him.

  Too bad he didn’t give a fuck.

  “I’m actually headed out for the night,” he said, looking past her toward the elevator. He wanted a drink and a sexy woman writhing underneath him later. He deserved it. He’d worked non-stop the past eight weeks, performing two-a-days in preparation for the season. All he wanted was one last night out.

  No hockey. No commercials. No interviews.

  Just good ol’ fashioned dirty fun.

  Leila rolled her eyes at him, though, and pushed past him into the room.

  “Excuse you?” He was angered by her bold move, but most of all, annoyed that he couldn’t stop himself from watching the way the hem of her dress swayed against her thighs.

  How could it be so short without revealing somethi
ng?

  “I require your assistance,” she said flatly, her chin set. “Shut the damn door.”

  It had been years since he’d seen this side of her. Well, not since she started dating that spawn of Satan, Derek. She was always so prim and nauseatingly proper when she was around him. “Well, you’re barking up the wrong tree, cupcake. Why don’t you go ask your boyfriend for help?”

  She bit the inside of her cheek. It was quick, and someone else might not have noticed it, but Henrik knew her too well. He’d spent too many hours dissecting the nuances of her every reaction, searching for the real emotion trapped within her chilled exterior, not to recognize the fire she desperately tried to barricade behind that smile. “He’s busy,” she stated, her tone acidic.

  Suddenly intrigued, he flung the door shut.

  Surely, Leila wasn’t upset with her perfect little golden boy.

  “Busy doing what, exactly?”

  She shrugged, attempting to appear casual, but her hand clenched into a fist. It was one of her tells, which meant she wasn’t going to hold it together for much longer. “His other girlfriend,” she said, her exasperation finally consuming her, “or at least that’s the impression I got from the voicemail the slut left on his machine.”

  Henrik grinned.

  It was a bullshit move, but he couldn’t help himself. He absolutely hated that asshole. They’d been rivals since the Junior World Championship almost a decade ago, their feud running much deeper than just a few on-ice antics. He hated Derek on a much more personal level. He’d finally get what he deserved now. The idiot should have known better than to screw over the little sister of the league’s most deadly enforcer. There would be hell to pay, and Austin would enjoy exacting revenge on his little sister’s behalf.

  He had to give it to Leila, though, going back to the situation at hand. Any other woman who just found out her boyfriend of two years was cheating on her would probably still be off crying in her Baskin-Robbins.

  Not Leila Blakely. She was too stubborn for that weak shit.

  “If you’re looking for someone to kick his ass, you should call your brother. I’m certain he’ll be more than happy to oblige you.”

  She hummed for a moment, the thought apparently entertaining. “That isn’t why I’m here.” There was something in her tone that he couldn’t quite identify, but then she smiled back at him.

  Vengeance.

  Yes. This was the Leila he knew.

  He crossed his arms over his chest, his curiosity kindled. “I’m listening.”

  “If I wanted his ass kicked, you’re right, I would have called Austin. If I wanted a shoulder to cry on—”

  “You would have called my brother,” he finished for her.

  “Exactly. I’m not in the mood for crying.” She crossed her legs, bringing his attention back to that damn hemline again. “Now, why do you think I came to you?”

  His throat tightened at the thought. She couldn’t be serious. His exploits weren’t exactly a secret. He never hid the fact that commitment was on the bottom of his list of priorities in life, but this was Leila.

  The Leila.

  They weren’t exactly on a friends with benefits level. Hell, they weren’t even friends. She was his best friend’s little sister.

  Scratch that.

  She was his best friend’s stuck-up, pain in the ass little sister, who voluntarily dated his arch nemesis.

  “You realize you hate me, right? The last time we saw each other, you refused to acknowledge I was even in the room.”

  She cocked a daring brow at him. “If liking you was a requirement, you’d never get laid.”

  He pursed his lips. She had a point.

  He shook his head, trying to keep even the thought of what she suggested out of his rallying thoughts. “There is one minor fact you seem to be forgetting.” He paused, unable to keep his eyes from raking down her body. He didn’t remember her figure ever being so intoxicating. Actually, that was a lie. He’d always been aware of her. He just knew better than to let his thoughts linger too long. He felt almost drunk as his eyes trained on every perfectly proportioned curve. “Guys have rules about sisters.”

  She stepped forward, a slow smile forming on her lips as her fingers played with one of the pearls on her necklace, which just so happened to be at eye level with her cleavage. “So, it’s not that you’re not attracted to me?”

  Damn. She was good.

  He bit his lip, a sure sign he was nervous, which was ridiculous, because women didn’t make him nervous. “It’s not just Austin, you know. Drew will kill me. You know he’s in love with you.”

  Everyone and their mother knew his little brother had a thing for her, and she was no exception. She was off limits any way he looked at it.

  She intentionally licked her glossy pink lips before quirking a smile at him. “You want me to drive to Manhattan and sleep with your brother?”

  He crossed his arms over his chest in return. “No,” he said flatly, suddenly feeling a flash of hormones as his breath tightened in his throat. “I was just making a point.”

  “That?”

  “You’re asking a lot,” he half stuttered before clearing his throat.

  She smirked, her voice velvety in a way he never thought possible. “I’m offering you sex, no strings attached. Heaven forbid I be so cruel.”

  “We aren’t strangers who stumbled upon each other in a bar, Leila.” He wondered if she could hear the urgency in his voice—the panic that started to set in.

  “I know that. I could go out tonight, take home some random guy, but that isn’t what I’m after. I came to you because I’m thinking the exact same thing you are right now.”

  “That being?”

  “Fuck Derek Deroty.” She grinned, stepping toward him, leaning just close enough to eye the tiny, pink cut on his lip. “He gave you a cheap shot tonight, did he not?”

  Henrik’s eye twitched at the thought of it. He hated that she was right. He had been thinking that exact thought. Oh, he wanted Leila, always had. She was beautiful enough to make him question his loyalty to his best friend and smart enough to know he’d never been worth her time. But the thought of having her, compiled with the fact that she was doing it just to piss Derek off, made it that much better.

  She reached up and touched her fingers to the cut, and he had to make an effort not to flinch, or worse, release the sigh that threatened to escape. “He smiled after he hit you,” she whispered, grazing her thumb across the bottom of his full lip. “The same shit-eating grin he smiled at me before he left tonight.”

  He caught her hand as her fingers tugged his lip down, contemplating what was right and what he’d inevitably end up doing anyway. She was forbidden fruit, and he, after all, was just a man destined to drown in his own temptation.

  “Don’t worry.” He let his breath intentionally brush against the skin of her wrist. She wasn’t the only one with a few tricks up her sleeve. “He’s going to regret that in more ways than one after tonight.”

  It was wrong. There were so many rules against dating sisters, and ‘no one night stands’ was on the top of the list. He’d been warned on multiple occasions. Threatened, even. Leila would never be an option for him.

  Except she was here, and he was touching her. Rules no longer applied. The temptation was too much. The old saying ‘you can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make him drink’ didn’t apply to him. He’d drink every time.

  That was why she came here. That was why she chose him.

  He let go of her wrist and lifted his hand to her temple, hesitating only a moment before brushing a strand of her scarlet hair away from her eyes, which rounded in anticipation. His fingertips lingered, causing her breath to falter, and it unwound what little was left of his inhibition.

  It was reckless and irresponsible, but that was his middle name. Besides, he couldn’t comprehend a thought that didn’t involve making her lose her breath. In an almost instinctual gesture, he cupped her chin in hi
s hand and tilted it up. Her lips parted, releasing the most delicate whine he’d ever heard. He planned on waiting for her to make the first move. This was her rodeo, after all. But again, his own eagerness won out, and he touched his lips to hers without thinking twice about it.

  Soft. Perfect. Leila.

  He lingered just long enough to ignite a twist of desire for her that he’d spent four years trying to sedate. Her breath came out ragged against his lips as her eyes brimmed with disappointment. She was worried he’d changed his mind. The thought almost made him laugh.

  He took a step back, unbuttoning his jacket before throwing it on the couch behind him. “Don’t worry,” he easily explained, “I’m just getting started.”

  Something akin to excitement flashed across her face, and he had her on her tiptoes, her hand latched around his neck, before she could even finish her next breath. She gasped into his mouth as his hands wrapped greedily around her delicate waist.

  Logic, rationality, and common sense crumbled easily under the weight of the attraction that pulled him toward her. She wasn’t just any woman; she was years’ worth of self-deprivation confined into one beguiling bundle of warmth and perfection. Her fingers brushed against the buttons of his shirt, and he took the opportunity to entangle his hands in the long sweep of hair dangling down her back.

  He’d always wanted to do that.

  As soon as he deepened the kiss, parting her lips long enough to taste the sweet seduction he’d desired for too long, he whipped her around and pinned her against the wall. A new, powerful urge erupted inside him.

  Four excruciating years he’d longed for her.

  To know her touch, and feel even a hint of that unrelenting passion she used to curse his very existence.

  It caused him to touch her body rough and demanding one moment, and then tenderly the next as he fought against his own eagerness. Tonight, this one, small flash in time, would be his only opportunity. Tomorrow, she’d be like all the others.

  A memory.