Synopsis
She’s Dean Di Laurentis’ best friend, quiet, bookish, and completely out of place in Briar’s hockey world.
Hunter Davenport is Dean’s biggest rival on the ice — cocky, infuriating, and impossible to ignore.
They’ve spent months pretending to hate each other, trading insults and dirty looks every chance they get. But one party, too much alcohol, and years of buried attraction are enough to destroy the line between hate and desire.
What starts as one reckless night quickly turns into a secret they can’t seem to stay away from.
Warnings
* 18+ / Mature Content
* Strong language
* Alcohol consumption
* Explicit sexual content
* Enemies to lovers
* Jealousy & possessiveness
Author’s Note
Hi everyone ♡
Before reading, please keep in mind that English is not my first language, so there may be grammar mistakes or awkward sentences throughout the story. I’m still learning, and I hope you’ll enjoy it
All characters are adults :)
I hope you enjoy reading Hunter and her story as much as I enjoyed writing it ♡
Hunter Davenport was the kind of guy she had trained herself to hate.
Cocky hockey star. Smug grin. Broad shoulders constantly on display in the locker room whenever she came to drag Dean out after practice. The type of guy who flirted just to annoy people.
And God, did he annoy her.
“Careful, princess,” Hunter drawled one afternoon as she walked past the rink boards. “You keep glaring at me like that and people are gonna think you’re obsessed.”
Dean snorted beside her. “In your dreams.”
Hunter only smirked wider.
That was the problem with Hunter Davenport — nothing ever got under his skin. Not Dean’s insults. Not their constant rivalry on the ice. Not the endless arguments during practice.
Especially not her.
At least that’s what she told herself.
Because every time she saw him sweaty after practice, hockey jersey pushed up while he wiped his face with the hem, her brain stopped functioning for a solid five seconds.
Which was humiliating.
Especially because Hunter clearly enjoyed torturing her.
“See you around, sweetheart.”
“I’d rather die.”
“Cute.”
—
By the time Dean dragged her to the party Friday night, she already regretted saying yes.
“You’re staying at least an hour,” Dean warned.
Allie appeared behind him holding a tiny black dress.
“No,” she said immediately.
“Oh yes,” Allie answered. “Tonight we’re making Hunter Davenport miserable.”
That somehow ended with her standing in front of the mirror looking almost unrecognizable.
The dress clung to every curve. Tiny straps. Low neckline. Bare legs. Her hair soft around her shoulders.
She looked hot.
Dangerously hot.
And she hated how nervous that made her.
The party was packed when they arrived. Hockey players everywhere. Loud music. Alcohol. Girls hanging off athletes.
Exactly her nightmare.
And then every head turned toward her.
Dean immediately wrapped an arm around her shoulders protectively while Allie grinned proudly.
“Holy shit,” one guy muttered nearby.
She wanted the floor to swallow her whole.
But across the room, Hunter Davenport had gone completely still.
Dark eyes locked on her instantly.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Like he couldn’t stop looking.
And for the first time ever, Hunter looked affected.
Really affected.
His jaw tightened as another guy leaned down to talk into her ear while she laughed awkwardly.
Dean noticed immediately and smirked.
“Oh, this is gonna be fun.”
—
An hour later, Dean and Allie disappeared upstairs together, leaving her alone with a plastic cup in hand and nerves buzzing beneath her skin.
So she drank.
Then drank more.
Then somehow she was dancing with strangers and laughing too loudly while warm alcohol softened every sharp edge in her brain.
For once, she felt free.
Which was exactly when Hunter arrived.
His eyes found her instantly.
And the second he saw another guy’s hands sliding onto her waist, something dangerous flashed across his face.
Jealousy.
Pure jealousy.
She barely had time to react before Hunter grabbed her wrist and pulled her away from the crowd.
Straight into a dark hallway.
“What the hell is your problem?” she laughed breathlessly.
“My problem?” he repeated. “You’re drunk.”
“So?”
“So those idiots out there are all over you.”
The possessiveness in his voice made heat rush through her instantly.
“Oh,” she teased softly, stepping closer. “Are you jealous, Davenport?”
Hunter stared down at her in silence.
Big mistake.
Because alcohol had destroyed what little self-control she had left.
She let her fingers slide over his chest slowly.
“You know,” she murmured, “I think I’ve wanted you for a really long time.”
His entire body tensed.
“You’re drunk.”
“I’m honest.”
Her lips curled slightly.
“You think I didn’t notice you during practice?” she whispered. “You and your stupid hockey muscles and your shirts always halfway off…”
Hunter shut his eyes briefly like she was killing him.
“You have no idea what you’re saying right now.”
“I think I do, sweetheart.”
The nickname coming from her nearly ruined him.
His hands suddenly landed on the wall beside her head.
“Careful,” he warned darkly.
But she only smiled.
Then kissed him first.
And that—
That destroyed everything between them.
The hatred.
The rivalry.
The pretending.
Because Hunter kissed her back like he’d been waiting months to do it.
Rough.
Hungry.
Possessive.
The kind of kiss that made her knees weak instantly.
A low sound escaped her throat and Hunter actually laughed against her mouth.
“Jesus,” he muttered. “You’re this vocal from one kiss? Dean’s gonna kill me.”
She shoved him lightly while laughing breathlessly, but Hunter only grabbed her hips harder.
“Still want me, princess?”
“Yes.”
“Yeah,” he said darkly, eyes dropping to her lips. “That’s what I thought.”
—
After that night, they agreed on one thing:
No feelings.
No romance.
And absolutely no telling Dean.
Just stolen moments.
Late-night hookups.
And the dangerously addictive thrill of wanting the one person they were never supposed to touch.