All Chapters of Breaking The Ice Between Us : Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

My voice cracked on the last word, but I tried to smile.It didn’t land. Not even close.Andrew’s jaw tightened. His fists clenched by his side.“Jesus Christ, Captain,” he muttered, walking forward. “What the hell did you do?”I shrugged, metal links clinking as I shifted. “Depends on who you ask.”“Fine,” he said, stopping in front of me, arms crossed. “I’ll ask you. What. Did. You. Do?”I exhaled through my nose. “Hit my father.”He didn’t say anything.I tilted my head, trying to gauge him. “Twice.”Still nothing.“Okay, maybe a lot of times,” I added with a wince. “There was a wall involved.”That finally got a reaction. Andrew inhaled sharply and turned away, like he couldn’t even look at me. He paced for a moment, raking a hand through his hair.“I don’t even know why I came,” he muttered to himself.My smile slipped.He turned back around, eyes narrowed. “You seriously dragged me into this?”“I didn’t drag anyone,” I said. “I just gave them your number. The rest was up to you.

ANDREW ~I never knew what to say when people opened up to me. Like, really opened up. Poured out their insides like I was some kind of safe place. A container. A vault. But I wasn’t. I never had been. Hell, I could barely contain myself on a good day—my thoughts always racing, emotions always biting under the surface like glass under skin. So when Captain—Richard—started talking, I just sat there. I didn’t interrupt. Didn’t offer those cookie-cutter responses people give when they don’t know what to say. I didn’t know what to say either, but I knew enough not to lie. I couldn’t fake empathy. Couldn’t force out a “damn, man” or “I’m sorry that happened.” That would’ve felt cheap. Insulting, even. So I just listened. And now, sitting across from him in this dimly lit booth with peeling vinyl and a busted jukebox humming softly in the background, I was still listening. Still trying to make sense of what the hell had just happened. He told me about his father. About grief. About

I traced my lips along the sharp edge of his jaw, brushing over the rise of his cheekbone before dragging my mouth down the slope of his neck. His skin was warm, tasting faintly of sweat and whatever cologne he’d put on. When he groaned—deep and low—it vibrated against my lips, and the sound went straight to my cock, which pulsed hard inside my shorts. I kept going, kissing down his chest slowly, taking my time over every inch of skin, letting my lips graze the chain of his necklace. I found one of his nipples and caught it between my teeth, giving it a slow, deliberate tug. He hissed through his teeth. “Fuck…” The sound of it lit me up. I tugged again, just to hear him curse, before continuing lower, my lips planting hot, wet kisses over the firm planes of his stomach. I reached the waistband of his shorts and caught the drawstring between my teeth, giving it a playful tug before glancing up. The moment our eyes met, my breath hitched. His eyes were almost black with lust, wild,

He shoved me down onto the bed, leaving me breathless for a second as he settled on his knees between my spread legs. The sudden loss of his heat against me made me whimper, but that sound barely had time to register before I saw him grab the bottle of lube and squirt a thick line of it directly onto his cock. God, the sight of it—raw, unapologetic—made my breath catch. I propped myself up on my elbows, eyes glued to him as he started stroking himself with fast, rough pumps. His fist slid up and down his slick length, lube squelching with every brutal stroke, making my mouth fall open. His eyes dropped to meet mine, full of hunger, and the filthy sound of his hand on his cock only made my thighs spread wider. He dragged his shiny fingers up to his crown, rubbing lazy, teasing circles around the head like he knew exactly what it was doing to me. I had to fight the urge to knock his hand away and wrap my own lips around him instead. “Here,” he said, tossing the lube to me with a smir

The second Captain rolled out of bed to go shower, I swore the mattress sighed in relief. Or maybe that was me. The moment he left my side, all the soreness I’d been pretending didn’t exist came roaring back like a bad punchline. My entire lower body throbbed like it had been rearranged by a semi truck wearing hockey skates. I winced, slowly sitting up, feeling everything protest with an angry chorus of ‘what the fuck were you thinking, Andrew?’ “God,” I muttered, rubbing my face with both hands. “I’m never walking right again.” The sound of water running in the bathroom made me look toward the door. The bathroom door didn’t close all the way—typical for this cheap studio—and the steam already started curling out, warm and soft like a fog rolling into shore. I could almost see his silhouette behind the glass stall if I tried hard enough. I didn’t try. …Okay, maybe I peeked. But just once. Then I tore my eyes away and looked around the wreckage that used to be my room. Clothe