When Aria Monroe lands her dream job as the new photographer for Los Angeles's professional hockey team, the last thing she expects is to work with the cocky, arrogant center Connor Holden who rocked her world five years ago during a one-night stand...
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I only had about ten minutes to change before we were all supposed to meet back in the lobby. In that short amount of time I was able to dress into a pair of light wash high-waisted denim and a pink corset tube top, pairing the outfit with nude heels (thank god I packed a cute outfit in case an occasion like this occurred). I used gel to slick my hair into a bun, letting two pieces of hair frame my face.
My gaze met the floor-length mirror in the hotel room's closet door, and this time, I let my scrutiny meet my face. When I was a teenager, I was hit on all the time, and that's not me being arrogant, it's just the truth. I was confident, and I felt beautiful. My body was thin and petite, yet carried the weight in all the right places, and my face was proportioned just right with wide brown eyes, full lips, and a cute button nose to match.
But now...
Now all I see is a failure when I look upon the jagged scar striking the center of my face. Sure, my body is banging, but this scar is the reflection of what I carry on the inside. I'm a fuck up.
Blinking away tears, I try not to let them fall, afraid I'll cause my mascara to run. I grab my phone, ID, credit card, and hotel key, stuffing them into the back pockets of my jeans before leaving the room. With a handle on the door, that annoying, nagging voice seeps into my head. Did you grab your hotel card? What if you can't get back in?
Yes, I just witnessed myself put it into my pocket, but I know how this will pan out. Rather than fight myself on it, I drag the cards back out of my pocket, verifying the key is there, and then I twist the handle of the door three times to ensure it's locked.
***
The elevator doors open to the lobby with its marble floors and grand chandeliers. This place is swanky, and more expensive than any hotel I've stayed in before. As my eyes scan the room, it's not hard to land on the six-foot hockey players crowding the corner.
Levi, Matti, Cal, and Connor are talking amongst themselves when I approach. Matti notices me first since he's facing me, eyes growing wide. "I'll be damned, darlin'. You clean up nice as hell."
Connor glances over his shoulder, stilling when his eyes meet mine. He rakes his gaze from the top of my head to my baby pink toes in the nude heels, pulling his bottom lip back between his teeth. I shouldn't seek his approval for anything, but I hold my breath as he completes his observation, my heart lurching when he wraps a large hand around my waist and draws me into his chest.
The other three are seeing this, but at this point, I couldn't tell him no even if I wanted to. His touch feels too good. Too right. Especially when I can feel his fingers through the thin satin material of the corset top.
And what does that say about me? This is exactly what Connor did with the last photographer, right? I'm becoming a puck bunny. I'm exactly who his friends are used to seeing Connor with.
