Mag-log inThey stayed like that for a beat, just breathing.Jax’s chest was warm and solid against Ryder’s back, his hands still braced on Ryder’s hips like he needed the contact to steady himself. Heat lingered everywhere they touched. Shoulders, hips, thighs. Droplets clung to their skin, the small stall too close and too quiet in the aftermath.Ryder’s hands slid down from where he’d been braced against the wall, fingers trembling as they fell uselessly to his sides. His pulse was loud in his ears. He could feel Jax’s breath on the back of his neck, uneven and wrecked.“Hayes—” Jax started.“Hayes!” Connor’s voice cut in at the exact same moment, loud and abrasive, echoing off tile. “We’re leaving. Where the fuck are you?”Both of them froze.Ryder’s heart jumped straight into his throat. “I’m—” He swallowed, then yelled back, “I’m in the bathroom!”He tried to turn, panic spiking, the movement awkward and wrong with Jax still pressed between his thighs.“Back off,” Ryder hissed under his br
Jax’s mouth crushed against his, hot and unyielding. Ryder didn’t think, couldn’t think. His back hit the cold stall wall hard enough to rattle the metal, a shocked sound breaking from his throat before Jax swallowed it with another kiss.Ryder let it happen.Let Jax take his face in both hands, let him press their bodies together until steam and skin and heat blurred into one overwhelming pull. He grasped blindly for balance, one hand hitting Jax’s shoulder, fingers digging in, the other braced uselessly behind him against the wall.Jax kissed like he played; relentless, controlled, decisive.His tongue moved against Ryder’s with a hunger that made his knees soften, his breath stumble. Their chests collided with every inhale, slick skin sliding, burning, sparking everywhere they touched. Ryder’s cock throbbed against Jax’s thigh, and the low grunt Jax let out shot straight through him.Jax crowded him further, hips pinning Ryder to the wall as if there were no space in the world exce
Practice finally wrapped, whistles blowing, players dispersing in scattered groups toward the tunnel. Ryder skated off last, partly because he made sure did one more rep than everyone else, partly because his brain was still twisted up over Calloway.By the time he trudged down the hall toward the locker room, he was worked up enough to snap.The second he pushed open the door and turned toward Jax's spot, the words flew out of him, fast.“Why did you do that? I had it covered—”He stopped.Jax wasn’t changing, wasn’t moving around his stall like usual. He was sitting on the bench, elbows braced on his knees, breathing slow and controlled.The sight silenced Ryder instantly.His chest tightened with something that felt uncomfortably close to guilt.Why had Jax taken that hit for him? Why put himself in the line of fire? It wasn’t friendly. Wasn’t logical. It wasn’t rivalry.Before Ryder could make sense of the mess in his chest, heavy footsteps rounded the corner.Coach Larsson.Comin
Monday morning, meant Ryder had officially survived another week. Not gracefully. Not quietly. But he was one step closer to star center again.He hadn’t relaxed the way he’d planned over the weekend. Between the gym chaos, the team inhaling forty pizzas, and the mental freefall that happened every time Jax Calloway breathed in his direction, Ryder felt like he’d lived a month in forty‑eight hours.But his body… was finally adjusting.Conditioning that morning? He killed it.He even got to the rink early, legs burning in that addicting, good kind of way. The pain was starting to dull into something he could push through without making a face.Then he made it to all of his classes early.Which would’ve been impressive, if he hadn’t spent most of them staring at the back of Calloway’s head.That stupid dark hair. Those stupid broad shoulders taking up half the row. The way he sat perfectly straight, like he’d been carved from concentration and arrogance.Ryder’s pencil hovered uselessly
The next morning, half the Wolf Den, and a handful of extra teammates, swarmed the campus gym after a loud night of pizza and beer. It was loud, chaotic, and smelled like sweat, rubber flooring, and too much cheap body spray.Connor and Drew were on the treadmills, racing each other like idiots. Max was perched on a bench press machine he wasn’t even using, playing a game on his phone. Beck was supervising from the stretching mats, pretending he wasn't hungover.Ryder was doing his best to act normal.Which meant doing his best to ignore Jax Calloway.He planted himself by the free weights, pretending he wasn’t dying inside every time he so much as touched a dumbbell. His whole body protested, mostly from actual training, partly from… other activities.But ignoring Calloway was impossible.Because Jax had decided to stretch.And stretch.And stretch.He’d been doing it for fifteen fucking minutes.Jax knelt on one of the mats, hands braced behind him as he eased into a deep quad stret
Jax drove with one hand loose on the wheel.The car still had that fresh‑off‑the‑lot shine, sleek, sharp, powerful, but it felt hollow. Maybe it was him. Maybe it was everything else. Whatever the reason, the car didn’t give him the rush he’d hoped for; it was just another machine eating up an empty stretch of road.The late‑afternoon sun hung low, pouring warm orange light across the dash, flashing over his knuckles every time the car glided past a break in the trees. He wasn’t speeding, but he wasn’t taking his time either, his mind restless.Lila’s voice spilled through the speakers, bright and edged with concern. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”Jax didn’t sigh, but it tugged at him. “It’s fine.”“Jax…” she pressed. “Look, Ry’s not an actual stalker, so there's no way he'll figure this out, but he’s suspicious. And stubborn. And loud. And he doesn’t let go of things once he grabs onto them.”Jax snorted.Yeah. He knew.He'd seen it in the way Ryder had followed him down the hal
Milo hurried down the hallway, phone in hand, bag slung over one shoulder. The hotel’s conference-level restaurant was easy enough to find, he just followed the scent of coffee, bacon, and testosterone.A few of his new teammates were already gathered in a large side room off the main dining area,
Milo couldn’t remember the last time he laughed this hard.It was stupid, really. Becker trying to balance a pint glass on Mac’s head while Ash kept nudging his elbow and pretending he hadn't. Josh kept stealing people’s fries and blaming Voro. And someone had started a list of team quotes that wer
Ethan was braced above him like some living wall. Half-shadow, half-sculpture, all heat.His dark hair was tousled and sticking up in chaotic tufts, his jaw rough with stubble that shadowed the sharp lines of his face. Sleep had softened him around the eyes, but it hadn’t dulled the power radiating
Milo squeezed his eyes shut.Maybe if he didn’t look at him, didn’t see the way Ethan was watching him, he could hold on. Keep it impersonal. Mechanical. Just fucking.But Ethan’s voice shattered the thought.“Eyes on me.”It came low and wrecked, a growl pulled from somewhere deep. Milo’s breath c







