My "Broke" Fake Boyfriend Is A Secret Hockey God

ER'S

tly as I pushed the hal

break my heart; it shattered my entir

the hands that had held mine just days ago-were gripping Kennedy's hips with a desperate, hungry possession. Kennedy's head was thrown back against the pillows, her f

The two people I trusted most in t

thetic gasp esc

violently shoving Mason off her and fumbl

dded passion on his face instantly curdled i

an I had loved for two years, the man I thought I would marry. Then I loo

nausea churned in my gu

on me. I turned on my heel without a wo

robotic. My tear-filled eyes landed on the pristi

ho

itchen, tossing out a burnt first batch and meticulously tempering dark chocolate for th

meetings. Captain's duties, he had texted, brushing off my disappointment. But I had foolis

a frantic rhythm of anticipation. I had slipped inside, quiet as a

an unfamiliar perfume-a rich, intoxicating blend of

denim jacket tossed ca

it, telling myself she ju

moans. The low, gravelly murmurs. T

rflowing with love, only to be suffo

er, w

h panic, snapped me back

ed hastily around his waist, his chest still heavin

hroat, scraping my vocal cords. "What is it, then? Were y

round her trembling frame. Tears streamed down her face, a pathetic picture of fake innocence. "Har

taste of blood in my mouth. My sorrow instantly hardened into blinding, white

in. Six hours of love, patience,

box, lifted the heavy, perfectly baked past

s stunned features, splattering onto his bare chest and the h

id, my voice as cold and dead

re d

enched the front door op