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“Go back to your boyfriend, Talia.”

“I’m so sorry, Rafe.”

He looked up, his eyes full of anger. “What are you sorry for? Watching me jerk off…or liking it?”

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.” My voice started to shake.

“Yeah? Yet somehow it keeps happening, doesn’t it?”

The sting behind my eyes broke and tears flooded in. I turned my face, trying to hide, but it was too late.

Rafe saw it, and he immediately stood. “Talia, don’t.”

“I’m sorry. I hate how messed up this is.”

“Damn it.” He stepped closer. “Come here. Please don’t cry.”

He pulled me into him, wrapping me tight in his arms. I instantly melted. It felt so damn good.

“Shhh…” he murmured, stroking my hair. “Don’t cry. Everything is going to be okay.”

But it wasn’t. Because the second I breathed him in, felt the warmth of him pressed against me, I knew things weren’t ever going back to normal again. It felt like the first time everything had been right in weeks—months, maybe.

I pulled back, meaning to say something, but the second I saw the pain in Rafe’s eyes, everything else fell away. My words. My logic. My boyfriend. I surged forward and kissed him.

Rafe jerked back, shaking his head. “No. You need to go back to Calder. Don’t do this. You don’t want this, Talia.”

But I did. Possibly more than I’d ever wanted anything in my life. And there was no stopping it now. I pushed up to my toes and kissed him again, more sure of myself. And this time… He didn’t stop me. Something in him gave way. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me closer until there wasn’t an inch of space between us. He lifted me up, and my legs wrapped around his waist like they’d been there a million times before—like they belonged there. He balled my hair into his fist and used it to tilt my head as the kiss grew urgent—deeper, messy, all-consuming—like everything we’d been holding back finally broke free.

The world around us disappeared. The noise from the arena, the people passing by, the game—all gone. It was just him. And me. This. And the terrifying realization that nothing had ever felt so right.

“Rafe?”

The voice cut through it all like a bucket of cold water. We froze. A guy stood a few steps away, brows raised. “Shit, man. Sorry, I didn’t realize you were… I didn’t see your girl there. I just saw you from the back.”

“Your girl.”

Rafe set me on my feet and let go, and cold air rushed in to fill the space. My lips were swollen, probably bruised, and my body ached for him. But then my brain started firing again, and I knew I couldn’t do this. Couldn’t stand here. Couldn’t look at him. Without another word, I turned and rushed back toward our section.

By the time I slid into my seat next to Calder, my heart was thumping so hard, I thought I might go into cardiac arrest. And my head—guilt, shame, remorse—it all churned together leaving me feeling physically sick.

The game had started again, so at least Calder’s attention was on the ice. Thank God. He reached over and patted my knee. “You okay, babe?”

“Yeah.” I swallowed. “Just…long line.”

All I could do was focus on breathing. Deep inhale. Slow exhale. Deep inhale. Slow exhale. I kept my eyes straight ahead, but the players blurred together on the ice. Worse, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop replaying what had happened. That kiss. How good it was. It made me wonder if that was the way all kisses were supposed to feel, and something had been missing every single time before.

Maybe fifteen minutes passed. Rafe still hadn’t returned, and a new panic started to creep in.

Calder shifted beside me, pulling his phone from his pocket and unlocking the screen. “Huh.”

My stomach dropped. “What?”

“Rafe just texted. Said he’s not coming back. He’s not feeling well.”

A strange mix of relief and disappointment hit me all at once. “Oh,” I said. “That’s…too bad.”

“I thought something was bothering him.”