When you’re named after the king of the gods, the world expects certain things of you.

Tough? Damn right.

Smart? Don’t let the hockey uniform fool you.

Large and in charge? Honey, I’m the biggest, baddest, mother pucking-est machine to ever own the ice. I shoot. I score. In and out of the rink. I don’t come early, but I come often, if you know what I mean. And I always leave the ladies wanting more.

Until that chick last night.

I’m no one-thrust wonder, and you’re damn right I’m going to prove to her I can do better. But every time I think I’m finally on my way back into her pants, she one-ups and out-balls me.

I should cut my losses, lick my wounds, and walk away.

But Zeus Berger doesn’t walk away from anything.

Especially when she’s the only woman in the world who might be able to handle me.