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At the sound of nearby voices and running showers, we tear ourselves apart. Disheveled and breathing hard, we sit frozen as two teammates walk past, absorbed in conversation.
Neither glance our way as they head for their lockers at the end of the long room. Once they disappear around the corner, Riot releases a shaky exhale. His mouth is kiss swollen and eyes volcanic, still devouring me from two feet away.
I clear my throat, looking down to hide the evidence of my arousal straining against my cup. We sit in silence that’s heavy with promise until the showers shut off one by one.
With a murmured goodnight, Riot grabs his gear bag and leaves. The brush of his fingers over my shoulder lingers long after he's gone.
Alone now, I touch my still-buzzing lips in wonder. I can barely keep up with the transformation of my relationship with Riot in the weeks I’ve been here. I used to hate the guy… now I want to punch anyone who touches him and I’m getting addicted to the taste of him on my tongue.
It’s weird as fuck.
Shit. The only thing I know with certainty now is that Riot Kensington has somehow become my world off the ice. And I'll be damned if I let anyone try to take him away from me.
Whatever this is growing rapidly out of control between us, there's no going back now. We're in dangerous, uncharted waters, but for once in my goddamn life, I'm not afraid of drowning.
Not with him by my side.
12
LONDON
I can still feelthe sting of Thompson's knuckles splitting my eyebrow as I stare up at the ceiling above my bed. My bruised fists ache in turn, satisfyingly sore after the number I did on the bastard's face. We earned that win against Stormbridge through blood and sweat.
Rolling over with a groan, I grab my phone and navigate to the chat app, my thumb hovering over FrozenFire's icon. Talking to him always helps me process the chaos in my head. And after the turbulence of last night, I could use some clarity.
I type out a message, recounting the thrill of our narrow victory, the satisfying crunch of bone-on-bone hits, and the roar of the crowd shaking the rafters. But I leave out the undercurrent that's really throwing me off balance lately—whatever is sparking between me and Golden Boy. Frozen seems to read me so easily, like he's got some window into my scrambled thoughts. No need to stoke that fire just yet.
FrozenFire: Hell yeah, man, sounds legendary. Love hearing about your games, it's like I'm right there crushing beers in the stands lol
FrozenFire: Just be sure to take it easy too, though. Don't let the adrenaline steer you wrong after a fight like that.
Me: You know me, cool as ice. I play hard, but keep my head on straight.
But even as I type it, doubt creeps in. Is keeping my head on straight getting harder lately? Ever since I kissed the shit out of my teammate… twice?
Before I overthink it, I hit send.
FF's typing bubble lingers longer than normal. Oh shit, did he sense something between the lines?
FrozenFire: I feel you dude. Just watch that things don't get too heated with your teammates either, you know? Competitive fire is great but you don't wanna burn bridges.
I bristle instinctively at the implication.
Me: Hey I'd never put some petty beef over the team. You know me better than that.
FrozenFire: Totally. My bad, man. I know you've got your priorities straight. Was just checking in.
His quick reassurance eases my defensiveness. I shouldn't have snapped.
Me: All good bro ?? Guess I'm still amped up from the fight lol. Appreciate you having my back.
FrozenFire: Anytime. Get some rest and enjoy the win. Til next time ?
I smile and send a fist bump emoji. Chatting with FF always helps me sort out the madness. I lean back in bed, tensions fading. Still uncertain what to do about my teammate stuff, but for now, I breathe a little easier.
Tossing the phone aside before I obsessively re-read our chat, I force myself out of bed. A hot shower helps ease my battered muscles while I try to keep my thoughts from wandering too close to a certain smug teammate. But the more I fight it, the more my traitorous mind replays moments from last night.
The brush of Riot's fingers over my shoulder as he left the locker room. Those drugging kisses in the shadowy corner that pushed all rational thought from my brain. He gave me a once-over, his eyes lingering on my bare chest, and my fingers curled into fists because I wanted to touch him everywhere.
