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ICE FORTY-SEVEN: PROMISE UNDER THE STARLIGHT.
Last Updated:
2025-09-03 18:15:17
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SCORED HER HEART, NOT THE PUCK. ICE FORTY-EIGHT: MORNING AFTER.
MADISON’S POV:When he discovered that I was a virgin, panic clawed at me. I was terrified he’d back away, that he’d decide I wasn’t worth the risk. I didn’t want that. My brain was far too clouded and desperate to let him stop now.“Please,” I whispered, pulling him closer. “I want you. All of you.”"No, Madison. I can't take what you can never have back." His eyes searched mine cautiously, as though he was afraid I’d break under his touch. "This..."I refused to let him retreat. I wrapped my legs around his waist and pulled him against me. “Thane, fuck me,” I demanded.He lost his self-control and pushed in slowly, carefully, sliding into me inch by inch. I felt his whole body trembling from the effort of restraint. My nails dug into his back, raking down as pleasure and pain collided in me.“God, you’re so tight,” he groaned, teeth clenched.I clung to him, my lips brushing his ear as I whispered through ragged breaths, “You feel so good… more, Thane. Please, more.”He began to mov
SCORED HER HEART, NOT THE PUCK. ICE FORTY-SEVEN: PROMISE UNDER THE STARLIGHT.
THANE'S POV:Since I wanted to start an actual love journey, I had to do it right. And if I was doing it, I had to do it better than Maverick’s glittering proposal decor. Tonight wasn't just about celebrating my comeback. It was for showing Madison what it meant to be truly cherished.Julian had outdone himself, even with the impossible timeline I'd given him. Of course, it had taken a few choice threats to make it happen, along with his stern warning not to "do anything stupid" with his masterpiece.But seeing Madison's face as we walked into my backyard made every favor I'd called in worth it."Thane..." Her voice caught in her throat, one hand pressed to her chest like she couldn't quite believe what she was seeing.I hadn't even seen the transformation myself, but Julian had worked magic. My entire backyard had been converted. A floral archway draped in pale pink roses and white orchids framed the night sky. Fairy lights hung in loose threads overhead, glimmering like fireflies. M
SCORED HER HEART, NOT THE PUCK. ICE FORTY-SIX: DESIRE AND THE PIECE OF PAPER.
MADISON'S POV:My heart stopped. Just completely stopped beating as I stared down at the ice in absolute shock."That's Thane. My Thane."When he'd brought me here without explanation, securing me this incredible front-row seat, I'd assumed we were just catching a random game. We both were into hockey, so it seemed like the perfect date. But this... this was something else entirely.The New York Sentinels. One of the most elite hockey teams in the world. And there was Thane Slade, number eighteen, gliding across the ice."OH MY GOD!" The scream tore from my throat before I could stop it. "THAT'S HIM! THAT'S MY—" I caught myself before shouting something that would definitely end up on social media, but my excitement was nuclear.He looked magnificent. Absolutely devastating in that black and gold uniform. The helmet couldn't hide those cheekbones or the intense focus in his eyes as he positioned himself for the opening face-off. His shoulders looked impossibly broad beneath the paddin
SCORED HER HEART, NOT THE PUCK. ICE FORTY-FIVE: THE COMEBACK.
THANE'S POV:The days blurred into each other. Pain became my religion, and the gym my cathedral.Every morning at five-thirty sharp, I punished my body until sweat stung my eyes and my muscles screamed for mercy. If I kept moving, if I pushed my body beyond breaking, I didn’t have to think.Not about her.Madison came and went like a ghost in my periphery. Always professional. Always careful. And I matched her."Miss Wallace." That’s what I called her now. Cold. Detached. She'd made her choice that night on her porch. The image of her in another man's arms was burned into my retinas like staring into the sun.I kept our sessions short and efficient. No lingering conversations, avoided shadows where it would just be us. Every word I said to her was a clipped syllable. Every glance was for a purpose.The distance between us stretched like a canyon, and I was the one with the dynamite.But here's what killed me: I needed her.Every time I stepped onto that practice rink without Madison
SCORED HER HEART, NOT THE PUCK. ICE FORTY-FOUR: MAVERICK'S BETRAYAL.
MADISON'S POV:It was afternoon by the time I woke up. I had slept in for so long. The apartment was too quiet but the air was scented with incredible aroma—warm bread, melted butter, which made my stomach practically growl in appreciation. My body felt... different. Lighter. Like someone had lifted a weight I'd been carrying for weeks without realizing it.I padded barefoot to the kitchen, my hair was still messy from sleep, and found a feast waiting for me. My hands moved faster than my brain, fork already in my mouth before I even sat down properly."God, this is heaven," I moaned into my meal.Only after I'd devoured half the plate did I notice the folded paper tucked beside the coffee. Thane's handwriting was bold, confident strokes across cream-colored paper.My cheeks warmed after reading the note and I traced the letters with my fingertip, a strange mixture of relief and unease prickling through me. Everything about last night felt like walking on the edge of a cliff—thrillin
SCORED HER HEART, NOT THE PUCK. ICE FORTY-THREE: HAZE.
THANE'S POV:I wasn’t sleeping. My eyes had been closed, but my body knew the second she came into the room. I heard her soft footsteps padding across the floor, the careful pause as if she didn’t want to disturb me. I could almost feel her gaze on me, like a warm whisper brushing my skin as she watched me pretending to be asleep on her cramped couch.Those roses under her bed haunted me. When she'd revealed that I was the boy from her past, the one who'd given her those three roses—everything shifted. What started as a crush had become my entire world. Now my heart was certain of what my mind had been fighting.I was in love with Madison Wallace.The next morning, the light slipped in before she stirred. I moved quietly through the kitchen, making breakfast with ingredients I'd picked up yesterday. Eggs, toast, coffee and fresh fruit—simple things that felt monumental in this tiny space. She didn’t come out, still bundled in bed, her breathing slow and even. I wrote a note and left
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