Owned on the Ice M/M Romance

“We’ll start with physicals. Jessica, please show them to the office,” Belmont announced, his voice cool and unyielding.Noah blinked, still riding the strange rush of adrenaline that came from being under that man’s gaze. It was like surfacing from deep water, lungs tight, mind spinning. Around him, players began to stir, collecting their bags and following Jessica’s instructions. Noah moved with them, trying to shake off the lingering burn of being watched.Jessica led them into the locker room and motioned to a row of open cubbies.“This one’s yours,” she said, patting the nameplate that read RIVERS. “Hooks up top. Gear below. Jerseys in your size should be folded here, we can swap if the fit’s off."Noah dropped his duffel, the weight slipping off his shoulder with a soft thud. He crouched down to inspect the gear. Clean. New. The orange-and-silver colors of the Crestwick Stormriders gleamed under the fluorescent lights, the tornado logo stitched sharply on the chest of each jerse

Dinner was loud, casual, and sprawling.They’d taken over three tables at a high-end steakhouse not far from the rink. The smell of charred meat and bourbon clung to the air as plates and bottles kept coming, all paid for, of course, by the infamous Sterling Belmont.Noah found himself wedged between Ash and Lukas, with Mac across the table and Jessica somewhere to his left. He kept pace with the jokes, the rounds, and the steady flow of food, slowly relaxing as the night wore on.He learned Lukas had two sisters and a vintage truck he refused to part with. Mac played poker like his rent depended on it. Ash had a dry sense of humor and a low tolerance for whiskey, apparently, judging by the flush creeping up his neck.And through it all, from the far end of the room, Sterling Belmont watched.The owner sat with quiet elegance, dark suit still immaculate despite the relaxed setting. The kind of sharp confidence acquired through years of hard work but not a gray hair in sight. A glass o

He stood in the center of the hotel room, chest still tight with the memory of Sterling’s touch. The curtains were drawn tight against the world outside, shutting out the city and the team and everything that had happened in the last thirty-six hours.His laptop glowed on the small desk, a momentary escape. Something normal. Something easy. He clicked through to one of his usual sites, selecting a video that promised to deliver exactly what he wanted: a pretty brunette caught in an affair with her impossibly handsome boss. She was just his type, and like always, Noah focused on her, the way she moved, the way she moaned.He pushed his sweatpants past his hips and settled back against a pile of pillows, one hand sliding purposefully down his abdomen.The guy playing her boss was tall, dark-haired, and intense.Noah tried to ignore him.But every time the angle shifted back to those chiseled features and burning eyes, a sick pulse of recognition thudded through him.His fingers tightene

The steam curled around them, glistening on every inch of exposed skin, but Noah couldn’t feel the heat anymore. All he felt was the accusation hanging in the air.A spy.Sterling Belmont thought he was a goddamn spy.The words played over in Noah’s mind, but even louder was the realization that slammed into him like a body check to the chest.All this time—the lingering stares, the unreadable tension, the heavy silence between them—it hadn’t been want. It hadn’t been intrigue.It had been suspicion.Sterling had been watching him because he didn’t trust him. Every moment Noah had felt pulled toward him, every flicker of tension that had stirred something strange in him was simply the effect a billionaire must have on everyone. It was just the cold scrutiny of a man convinced he was the enemy.The hurt came fast and quiet. Not heartbreak, exactly, but something sharper. Something hollow.He let out a humorless breath, his eyes dropping—unintentionally—for a moment.Great. Blood thrum

From the moment Noah Rivers stepped into that conference room, Sterling knew he was going to be a problem.Something about the way Noah carried himself—defiant but wary, proud but bruised—set off a friction in Sterling that went deeper than professional.He’d seen a hundred prospects. Fast skaters. Sharp minds. Big personalities. But Noah was different.It started with the way he looked at him, like he didn’t give a shit about the fact that Sterling owned everything and everyone around him. Then he heard about the offer. Dirt cheap. Too good to be true.And it didn’t add up.At first, he told himself that maybe some people really did value family more than fortune. That nostalgia could outweigh numbers. But the logic frayed too easily. His gut twisted with something he couldn't name. And that instinct—the one that had made him ruthless, successful, a billionaire—refused to ignore it.So he watched.He watched during the medicals, standing just beyond the cracked door under the guise o