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Epilogue 4

作者: E L Simon
last update publish date: 2025-08-08 04:09:24
The wedding was over, the reception a blur of laughter and champagne, the goodbyes just the right amount of tearful. And now, Noah and Sterling were alone.

Still on the island, but far from the main resort, they were nestled in a secluded villa built out into the sea. The kind of place where the walls folded open, the air smelled like salt and exotic flowers, and no one but the ocean could see them.

Sterling had arranged everything. Of course.

A private chef who came and went silently. A pool th
E L Simon

Thank you so much for reading Owned on the Ice! I hope you enjoyed Noah and Sterling’s story. Next up, book 2 in the Crestwick Stormriders Series. It starts back at the pre-season game where Noah broke his ribs and follows the story of Milo Laskey the rookie who took Noah’s place with Blackmoor, and his love story with a Stormriders’ player. So travel back in time with me where we'll see some familiar scenes ❤️ - Love, Emma Simon Stories x

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評論 (5)
goodnovel comment avatar
mcalvinlaw
Excellent story-telling!
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Vindi
best book I read after a long time
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Amy Daniel
total erotica with a good dose of family love ...️ I enjoyed the steamy journey with real emotion that is hard to find in a book.....or am I just a dreamy romantic at heat?!
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  • Owned on the Ice M/M Romance   Marissa

    The porch boards gave a little under Max’s boots. Somewhere inside, a TV was going.He knocked, and Ava stood behind him hugging her latte like a shield.A guy in a Greyhollow hoodie opened the door, took one look at them, and yelled over his shoulder, “Rissa! Some guy!” before wandering off without another word.A few seconds later Marissa appeared, hair scraped up, sleeves shoved past her elbows, the friendly expression on her face dying the instant she registered who was on her porch.“Nope,” she said, and started to close the door.“Marissa—”“Nope. Absolutely not. If Dane sent you—”“Nobody sent me,” Max said quickly. “Marissa, I swear, Dane doesn’t know I’m within a mile of this house.”“I’ve had it!” The door stopped an inch from shut, and she yanked it back open, which was somehow worse. “Do you know how many times he’s shown up here. He’s really sorry, he’s a mess, he just needs to hear from me—” She jabbed a finger at him. “He is not a mess. He is having the time of his life

  • Owned on the Ice M/M Romance   Pudgy Jamie

    Jamie speed-walked across the quad with his laptop bag banging against his hip and the collar of his shirt pulled up as high as it would go.He’d checked in the mirror four separate times before leaving. The hickeys were hidden. Covered. Definitely covered. Max had been pretty careful, keeping every mark low and hidden, but knowing they were there was its own problem. He kept catching the pull of the fabric against a sensitive spot and feeling his face go hot in the middle of a public sidewalk.His mind wasn’t on stats at all.It was in a car somewhere on the north side of town, with Max and Ava, chasing down an email address, while Jamie went to teach a stranger about standard deviation. He hated it. Ninety minutes, he told himself. Ninety minutes and then you can be useful.He checked the booking as he pushed through the doors of the Delaney Learning Commons. Third floor, the little glass-walled study rooms along the back wall, room 314, nine-thirty. No name on the confirmation,

  • Owned on the Ice M/M Romance   Rico

    Max fished a pair of boxers off the floor and worked them up Jamie’s legs with the patient efficiency of a man dressing a limp doll. Jamie made a vague noise of protest. Max simply kissed the back of his shoulder and left him exactly where he was — face down in the pillows, boneless, hair a disaster.Then he opened the door.“Finally,” Ava said, sweeping past him. “Do you know how long I’ve been standing in a hallway that smells like microwaved noodles? I could have been born in that time. I could have been born and built a door-opening robot.”“Morning,” Max said.“Don’t morning me.” She spotted the shape of Jamie under the covers, dropped her bag, and made a beeline for the bed with her hands pressed to her chest. “Oh my God. Jamie. Look at the state of you. What did he do to you?”“Shut up,” Jamie said into the pillow. “Shut up, shut up, shut up—”Ava sat down on the edge of the bed and poked his butt cheek. “How’s your butt? Is it sore?”Jamie’s head shot up. “Why would my butt c

  • Owned on the Ice M/M Romance   Year by Year

    Jamie woke slow, warm, and heavier than usual.He’d had more at the diner than he’d normally eat in a week: the veggie hash, a pancake the size of a hubcap, most of Max’s hash browns because Max kept nudging the plate toward him and pretending not to. He’d gone to bed full, an odd, comfortable fullness he was still getting used to, and he’d slept like the dead.He surfaced now to gray morning light and the feeling of a mouth moving slowly along his shoulder.“Mm,” he managed.“Morning,” Max murmured against his skin, and Jamie felt the smile in it.Max was a furnace behind him, one heavy arm slung over Jamie’s waist, already half-hard against the back of his thigh, unhurried about it. His lips traced the curve of Jamie’s shoulder to his neck and back down, not pushing, just there, warm and patient, letting Jamie wake up into it.“You’re still—” Jamie started, and yawned, and felt himself flush. “It’s early.”“You said morning,” Max reminded him, low and lazy, his hand spreading warm o

  • Owned on the Ice M/M Romance   Victory Pancakes

    The bus got back to Greyhollow a little before midnight.Jamie had ridden home in the media van, wedged between a tripod bag and a sports-comm sophomore who talked the entire ninety minutes about camera settings. He’d nodded along and heard none of it, because two hours ago an NHL team had offered Max a spot.He’d spent the whole drive on his phone, the screen tipped away from the sophomore, reading everything he could find. The Crestwick Stormriders. Cup winners. Noah Rivers’s rookie season, written up everywhere. Aleksei Voronov, pages and pages on Voronov — the shutouts, the save-percentage records, the highlight reels, the fan accounts, the merchandise with his number on it. Jamie had scrolled through photo after photo of packed arenas, twenty thousand people on their feet, and tried to picture Max down there on that ice, in that jersey, that small and that far away and that watched.He was so happy for him. He was. The pride in his chest was enormous.But they’d been together a

  • Owned on the Ice M/M Romance   Run, Sullivan

    Max floated out of the cinderblock office like a man who’d been unplugged from the wall.The hallway was chaos. The post-game scrum in full swing, reporters clustered around the tunnel mouth, a wall of raised phones and boom mics, Hallowell’s captain boldly answering questions about a game he’d lost. Max stood at the edge of it, still in half his gear, and scanned.There. Off to the side, camera up, filming a coach’s answer over the heads of taller people and standing on his toes to do it — Jamie, brow furrowed in a way that made Max want to leave hickeys up and down his neck.He had to tell him. He had to tell him now or he was going to burst in the hallway.He couldn’t exactly stride into a press scrum and sweep Jamie off his feet. So Max did the next best thing, which was hover at the perimeter making the most obvious, least subtle eye contact of his life until Jamie felt it.Jamie lowered the camera. Found him. And his whole face changed. Surprise, then a helpless flicker of hi,

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