LOGINThe hotel suite door clicked shut at 2:17 a.m.No one spoke at first.The room was one of those upgraded team suites — king bed pushed against the wall, pull-out couch already unfolded into a second bed, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the sleeping city. Bags dropped haphazardly by the door. Lights stayed off except for the soft blue glow from the TV on mute.Room reserved for just the top line.Riley stood in the middle of the room like he didn’t know where to put his hands. Still flushed from the bus. Sweats low on his hips. Hoodie unzipped. Eyes darting between the three men who’d just spent forty miles turning him inside out.Jaxon kicked off his sneakers first. Stretched like a cat, shirt riding up to show the fresh bruises Dima’s fingers had left on his hips earlier.“Kid looks like he’s about to bolt,” Jaxon said, voice lazy but eyes sharp. “You running, Riley?”Riley shook his head fast. “No. Just… processing.”Marek — still in his black hoodie, beard shadowed in the dim
The team bus hummed through the night, somewhere between Pittsburgh and Columbus. Lights dimmed low, most of the guys already passed out with hoodies pulled over faces or neck pillows strangling them. Headphones leaked tinny music. The occasional snore.Back row — the sacred territory — belonged to the top line plus one.Riley sat wedged between Dima and the window, still looking a little shell-shocked from the morning. Knees bouncing. Eyes darting. Every time the bus hit a bump his thigh pressed against Dima’s massive one, and he flinched like it burned.Jaxon sprawled across two seats opposite, legs spread wide, smirking at the rookie’s obvious nerves. Marek sat beside Jaxon, calm as ever, scrolling through scouting reports on his tablet like nothing had happened. Like he hadn’t fucked Jaxon bent over a bench in front of a trembling twenty-year-old just hours ago.The bus driver called back, “Next stop in forty. Try not to destroy my vehicle, boys.”A few tired laughs from the front
The arena was dead quiet at 7:45 a.m. Sunday morning skate was optional, but the top line never skipped. Muscle memory. Discipline. Or maybe just the need to see each other’s faces after last night without the buffer of a full team.Marek was the first one to arrive. Just as always— black Under Armour hoodie up. His beard was still damp from the hotel shower. He dropped his bag by the bench and his eyes went around the empty rink. Scanning, like he was checking for landmines.Jaxon was the next one to show up. His hair was mussed. Hoodie sleeves pushed up to show the fresh ink that was curling around his forearms. Sunglasses were still on despite the dim tunnel lights. He walked with a slight hitch— subtle. But Marek still noticed it.Of course he did.“Morning cap.” Jaxon said to him. His voice was deliberately casual. Too casual. As he sat down beside Marek.Marek grunted. He didn’t even look at him yet. He just started tapping his stick.Dima lumbered in last. A full minute late— u
The buzzer cracked through the arena like a fired gun.Overtime. Game winner. Final score: 3–2.The crowd was still losing its mind as the last three skaters drifted off the ice together—Captain, Sniper, Enforcer. Always in that order. Always locked into the same rhythm that never broke.The rest of the team rushed ahead, voices loud, gloves flying, victory already turning into beers, interviews, and plans for the night. Within half a minute, the locker room was thinning out fast. Saturday routine.They didn’t join it.By the time that the heavy doors were closed shut behind them, the steam was already turning the air to fog. It was just the three of them now. The room was smelling like pads that was soaked with sweat. Muscle rub. And something that was heavier. Something that had been building since the season started.Jaxon rested back on his stall. His dark tattoos glowed on his wet skin. The water was dripping from his hair like he worked lazily at his skates laces. His lips were
Rhea’s povI walked back to the table with a smile already in place.Perfect. Easy. Practiced.My hands were steady. My shoulders relaxed. No one would ever guess what they had just done, what I had just done, what still hummed under my skin like a secret song.I turned the corner. My eye caught the table and there was no Marcus or Elliot either.They had probably stepped out too. I let out a long breathe. At least this was going to make walking easier.I reached the table.Elliot’s empty chair made my heart feel heavier. The realization of what I just did pressing down on me.For half a second, my movements slowed.I glanced at the seat, then around the table, keeping my face calm. Plates were still there. Glasses half-full. Nothing looked disturbed. Like no time had passed at all.I pulled out my chair to seat again. And just then—“Hey,” Marcus said, sliding into his chair right on cue. “Sorry. Took longer than I thought.”I looked at him.He smiled easily. Too easily.“Did I reall
Our lips met slow, deliberate, like we were testing the waters. Hers were soft, full, tasting faintly of the wine she'd been drinking—tart and sweet. I pressed in harder, my mouth opening against hers, and she responded right away, her tongue slipping past my lips, exploring with a confidence that made my pulse race. The kiss deepened fast, hungry, our breaths mingling hot and quick. Her hands slid up my back, fingers digging into my shoulders, holding me there.I pushed her back gently, guiding her toward the counter. She went willingly, her body yielding under my touch. The edge of the sink bumped against her hips, and she hopped up a little, sitting on the cool marble with her legs parting slightly. I stood between them, my hands on her thighs, sliding up under her skirt. The fabric was smooth, silky, and I bunched it higher, exposing more of her skin—pale and warm under my palms.She broke the kiss for a second, her eyes locked on mine, dark with want. 'Ivy...' she murmured, her v
The cool night air rushed around me, brushing against my bare legs. My coat barely covered me, and the brush of wind felt like hands trailing over my skin. My heels clicked softly on the pavement as I crossed toward the glass doors, the sound echoing too loudly in my ears. But I lifted my chin high
Two days later, I finally broke. I couldn’t fight it anymore. The piece of paper had been haunting me like a ghost, tucked away in my bedside drawer where I thought it would stay forgotten. But it never left me alone. Every time I changed clothes or reached for something inside that drawer, I’d see
I shifted the gear, my fingers firm even though my hands trembled. The tires gave a soft squeal as I pulled forward, the garage swallowing the sound as the mansion gates began to slide open.And there it was—the city. The glowing skyline stretched in the distance, shimmering against the dark velvet
I froze, my breath locking in my chest.Little bunny.That stupid nickname. The one I swore I hated, the one that had been echoing in my head all week even when I tried to forget.My eyes widened as the second part sank in. On the house.My head snapped up, and I stared at the champagne like it had







