I bite my lip hard, trying to shake it, but the image stays. The thought of hearing his voice rough with need instead of command. Of being the one to take him apart, to make him feel good instead of always clawing to keep up with him. My chest tightens.
It terrifies me, the idea of asking for that, of needing it. But if anyone would let me—if anyone would trust me with that—it’s Phoenix. And God help me, I think I want it.
I lean back against the seat, dragging a hand over my face, trying to smother the smile tugging at my mouth. I’m falling for him. I’m already in too deep. Every bruise he gives me, every kiss, every reckless game is pulling me closer instead of pushing me away.
And yeah, maybe that’s dangerous. Maybe it’s stupid. But right now, with my body still humming from the fight, with the memory of him soft in my hands while his eyes burned into me, all I can think is… If this is love, then I don’t want safe.
I want him.
The apartment smells like laundry detergent and faint cologne when we step inside, the kind of scent that’s begun to feel like home without me even realizing it. Phoenix tosses his keys onto the counter and shrugs out of his jacket like he hasn’t just played a full game and spent part of it yelling at refs for me.
“Sit,” he says, jerking his chin at the couch. His voice leaves no room for argument, and for once, I don’t even want to give him one.
My knee’s stiff by now, aching from the game. I lower myself onto the couch, exhaling slowly, and watch him dig through a bag near the door. Ice pack, elastic bandage, some kind of ointment that smells like menthol. He moves with easy confidence.
“Foot up,” he says, patting his thigh for me to rest my leg there.
I hesitate for half a second before obeying, settling my calf across his solid thigh. He doesn’t flinch at the weight. His focus is all on my knee, his brows drawn as he presses the ice pack into place. The coolness bites, and I suck in a breath.
“Too cold?”
“No,” I manage. My voice comes out rougher than I mean it to.
He hums in approval and starts wrapping. His fingers graze my skin every so often, warm against the chill of the ice, and every brush sends my thoughts somewhere I don’t want them to go. Or maybe I do.
Because there he is—on his knees before me, head bent, strong hands careful as they work. And I’m remembering the shower. Remembering the way his body curved under mine, the way his breath caught when I gripped his hair, the way, for a split second, I had power over him. Phoenix. The captain. The man no one touches unless he lets them.
What would it be like if he let me again? If he wanted me to?
My pulse spikes, heat rushing low in my stomach. I grip the couch tighter, like I can wrestle the thought back down, but it only grows. I can’t stop looking at him. At the sharp cut of his jaw in the lamplight, the soft shadow of stubble, the faint sheen of sweat still drying on his temple. He’s beautiful like this. Untouchable everywhere else, but soft here, with me.
And I realize I don’t just want the rush of the fight, the adrenaline, the sex in the locker room showers. I want this too. The quiet. The steadiness. Him.
He glances up, his eyes locking with mine. “You’re tense.”
I force a breath out, try to steady my voice. “It’s nothing.”
“Lee.” His tone is gentle but firm. A warning. He knows me well enough already.
I swallow hard. My chest feels too tight. He’s still holding my leg, still kneeling, still looking at me like I’m not too much, like I’m worth the trouble. And before I can think better of it, before I can stop myself, it rips out of me.
“I want you to meet Silas.”
Phoenix stills. The roll of elastic slips from his hand, dangling loose. His gaze sharpens, pinning me harder than any opponent ever has.
“Officially,” I add, my voice low, unsteady. My throat is dry, but I force the words out anyway. “As my boyfriend.”
The silence after feels like it stretches for hours. My heartbeat drums in my ears, my whole body taut like a wire. What the hell did I just do?
Phoenix’s mouth curves, slowly. Not his usual cocky grin. Softer. Dangerous in a completely different way.
Phoenix lifts his head, that soft grin still curving his mouth. But behind it, I catch a flicker of something else—hesitation.
“You really want me to meet him?” His voice is low, careful. Not like him at all.
“Yes,” I say without thinking. My fingers have drifted up to his hair. I don’t want to let go.
Phoenix exhales, shifting back on his heels, dragging his hands down his face. “Lee… I’m not exactly his favorite person. Pretty sure I made a hell of a first impression when I started resource guarding you at the hospital.”
