CHAPTER 3

Soren’s fingers curled into the black sheets, his body tense as he turned onto his stomach. The cool fabric did nothing to soothe the fire racing under his skin.

Behind him, the bed dipped as JR moved closer. A large, warm hand settled on the back of his neck, holding him there; steady and possessive.

“Breathe, Captain,” JR murmured. “You’re shaking.”

“I’m not shaking,” Soren snapped, even though his arms trembled slightly. “Just get on with it.”

JR chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating through Soren’s spine. “Still fighting, good!” He leaned down, pressing a surprisingly soft kiss between Soren’s shoulder blades, right over a fading bruise. “I meant what I said. Tell me to stop and I stop.”

Soren turned his head to the side, glaring at the man hovering above him. “Stop talking and fuck me already, Draven. Or are you all talk?”

JR’s grip tightened on his neck for a second before sliding down his back, mapping every line of muscle. “You really want to play it like that?” He reached for the lube, the cap clicking open. Cool, slick fingers traced down Soren’s spine, then lower. “Fine. But when you’re moaning my name, remember you asked for it.”

The first finger pushed in slowly and carefully. Soren hissed at the stretch, forehead dropping to the pillow. It had been a long time and the sensation was overwhelming, especially with JR watching his every reaction like a predator.

“Fuck… you’re tight,” JR groaned, voice strained. “Been a while?”

“None of your business,” Soren gritted out, pushing back despite himself.

JR added a second finger, scissoring gently but relentlessly, curling until he found the spot that made Soren’s hips jerk and a choked sound escape his throat.

“There it is,” JR said triumphantly. “That’s the spot, isn’t it, Captain? Keep making those pretty sounds for me.”

“Shut up,” Soren gasped, but his body betrayed him, rocking back onto JR’s fingers. The pleasure built fast and sharp, mixing with the dull ache in his ribs and the burning humiliation in his chest. “I still hate you.”

“Yeah?” JR leaned over him, chest pressed to Soren’s back, lips brushing his ear. “Then why are you dripping all over my sheets?” He crooked his fingers again, drawing another involuntary moan from Soren. “Why are you pushing back on my hand like you’ve been dying for this?”

Soren turned his face into the pillow to muffle his response, but JR wasn’t having it. He pulled his fingers out, leaving Soren empty and aching.

“Answer me,” JR demanded, lining himself up. The blunt head of his cock pressed against Soren’s entrance. “Tell me you want this.”

Soren’s hands fisted tighter in the sheets. Pride warred with raw, desperate need. “Just do it, JR. Before I change my fucking mind.”

With a low growl, JR pushed forward, slow but inexorable. The stretch burned in the best way. Soren’s mouth fell open on a silent cry as JR sank deeper, inch by inch, until he was fully seated.

“Jesus Christ,” JR breathed, his forehead pressed between Soren’s shoulders. “You feel… fuck, Soren.”

For a moment, neither of them moved. The intimacy of it felt heavier than Soren had expected. Then JR started moving, deep, rolling thrusts that dragged against that perfect spot inside him with every stroke.

Soren couldn’t hold back the sounds anymore. Moans and curses spilled from his lips as JR picked up pace, one hand braced beside Soren’s head, the other gripping his hip hard enough to bruise.

“That’s it,” JR panted. “Let me hear you. Been dreaming about this for years—shutting that smart mouth up with my cock.”

“Dreaming about me?” Soren managed between thrusts, trying to regain some control. “Didn’t know you were so obsessed, Draven.”

JR laughed breathlessly and slammed in harder, making Soren cry out. “Obsessed? Maybe. You’ve been in my head since the first time you checked me into the boards and looked at me like you wanted to kill me.” He angled his hips, nailing Soren’s prostate again and again. “Now look at you. Taking me so fucking well. My rival, my captain.”

Soren’s eyes squeezed shut. The words hit harder than the pleasure. “This doesn’t change anything,” he gasped. “Tomorrow I go back to hating you.”

“We’ll see.” JR reached underneath him, wrapping a slick hand around Soren’s aching cock and stroking in time with his thrusts. “Come for me, Soren. I want to feel you fall apart.”

The combination of JR’s hand and the relentless drag of his cock inside him was too much. Soren came with a broken shout, spilling over JR’s fist, body shaking with the force of it. JR followed moments later, burying himself deep and groaning Soren’s name like a curse and a prayer.

They collapsed together, JR’s weight heavy but not unwelcome. For several long minutes, the only sound was their ragged breathing.

Finally, JR pulled out carefully and rolled Soren onto his back. He disappeared into the bathroom and returned with a warm cloth, wiping Soren down with surprising gentleness. Soren watched him warily, waiting for the taunt, the victory lap.

Instead, JR tossed the cloth aside and stretched out beside him, pulling the sheet over their bodies. One arm draped possessively across Soren’s waist.

“You’re staying the night,” JR said. It wasn’t a question.

Soren stared at the ceiling. “This was supposed to be hate sex. Not… whatever the hell that was.”

JR propped himself up on one elbow, looking down at him. His dark hair was even messier now, gray eyes softer than Soren had ever seen them. “It can be both.” He traced a finger over the fresh hickey on Soren’s neck. “You’re mine for thirty days. Might as well enjoy it.”

Soren turned his head, meeting JR’s gaze. “And after the thirty days? What then? We go back to trying to kill each other on the ice like nothing happened?”

JR’s expression darkened. He opened his mouth to answer

Soren’s phone buzzed loudly on the nightstand. Once, twice., then it started ringing.

He reached for it instinctively. The screen lit up with his teammate’s name: Mitch Callahan – Assistant Captain.

“Shit.” Soren sat up, wincing at the soreness in his body. He answered before it went to voicemail. “Mitch? What’s going on?”

Mitch’s voice came through, tense and urgent. “Soren, where the hell are you? Coach is losing his mind. Someone leaked photos from the locker room exit. You and Draven leaving together. It’s already all over social media. They’re calling it a secret meeting or some bullshit. The GM wants you in the office first thing tomorrow.”

Soren’s blood ran cold. He looked over at JR, who had gone still beside him, listening.

“Yeah… I’ll be there,” Soren said tightly. “Handle the guys for me tonight.”

He hung up and dropped the phone onto the bed.

JR sat up slowly, running a hand through his hair. “Well, Captain. Looks like our little secret didn’t stay secret for long.”

Soren stared at him, heart pounding with a new kind of panic. “This is your fault. If this blows up my career…”

JR leaned in, capturing Soren’s chin and forcing their eyes to meet. His voice was low, steady, and dangerously calm.

“Then maybe you should stop worrying about your career for one goddamn night and tell me what we’re going to do about the fact that I already want more than thirty days.”

Soren’s breath hitched.

What the hell had he just gotten himself into?