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on the ice or a teammate was mistreated, he would pull off his helmet and gloves and send the punches flying. Where Ben had speed, Dom had brute. And plenty of it. Very rarely did he leave a game without shedding the blood of himself or an opposing team member.
    With a mix of adrenaline and testosterone flowing through his veins, he was an unstoppable force on, and off, the ice. His body was in the best shape of his life. He had spent grueling hours at the gym, honing it into the perfect weapon on the ice. And the perfect accessory between the sheets. Between his rock hard chest, well-defined abs and muscular thighs, he was a fine specimen of a man. The only imperfection on his face was the slight crook of his nose and a faint scar on his forehead. His nose had been broken during a past game and the scar had been a painful gash from a skate blade years ago. Now his battle scars provided him with a perfect ice breaker for the ladies. Chicks dig scars.
    Dom was born in a small Canadian village, but preferred the night life in America. With his deep voice and slight hint of an accent, women tended to lose their inhibitions and their panties when he was around.
    Dominic Devereaux hated to be kept waiting. He lived his life like he played the game of hockey. Fast, aggressive and take charge. He had no use for patience because he had always just taken what he wanted. No questions asked. People rarely questioned him because of his height, stature and his sheer, powerful presence. One blink of his icy blue eyes and people jumped to fulfill his every want.
    Except for today.
    He drummed his fingers on the counter at Soundz Cuztom Stereoz and looked around at the buzzing neon lighting that circled the office walls. His car was supposed to be ready twenty minutes ago. He had been putting off the stereo upgrade to his Escalade since he bought it. And now he knew why.
    Damn imbeciles .
    The twitty, pimple-faced teenager working behind the counter had scurried off to check on Dom’s ride, but now it didn’t look like he was coming back anytime this decade.
    He probably got distracted by a crack in the floor tile , Dom thought.
    Before Dom’s anger escalated to boiling, a stunning redhead sauntered up to the counter, her heels clicking on the polished black floor. He could smell her perfume before he actually saw her. And when he did see her, stereos were the last thing on his mind.
    Since when did auto shops start hiring fashion models?
    Layers of red hair framed her ivory face. His gaze traveled down to survey the rest of her features. The important ones. A pale, creamy pair of breasts peaked out of her blouse. Oooh. They were definitely real. And Dom didn’t discriminate. He prided himself on being an equal cup size opportunist. Real or fake, big or small, he just loved the feel of a woman’s breast in his hands. Freckles dotted her ivory skin and he followed their trail from her breasts up to her neck. When he finally looked back at her eyes, she was looking back at him with jade green eyes.
    “I’m sorry Mr. Devereaux, but your car won’t be ready today as planned. One of the parts is on backorder and won’t be delivered until tomorrow.”
    “What?” He tapped his Dolce & Gabbana sunglasses on the countertop. “It’s just a simple installation.” Her looks were distractingly beautiful, but he was still upset. He had the urge to ask her ‘Don‘t you know who I am?’ But he didn‘t. Instead he said, “This is unacceptable.”
    She leaned in closer to him, her breasts squishing together over the counter. Her perfume was musky and pure sex.
    “I’m sure I can figure out a way to make it up to you.” One twinkle of her green eyes and he suddenly forgot about his car. Car? What car? Oh, yeah. That could definitely wait until tomorrow. No problem. He was a reasonable man, after all. “Something to soften the blow.” She pursed her coral painted lips on the emphasis of the last word.
    Now he knew what he’d be doing for