All Chapters of Owned on the Ice M/M Romance: Chapter 421 - Chapter 430

Jamie’s fingers froze on the keyboard.Oh god.He fumbled immediately, nearly dropping the laptop as he tried to snap it shut.“Oh—that’s just—” he stammered. “That’s a joke. It’s not— I mean it’s not a real date. It’s just— it’s like a drink with a friend.”He lowered the laptop too quickly, the lid clapping shut with a suspicious thump.Behind him the mattress shifted slightly.“Which friend?” Max asked.Jamie’s brain short‑circuited. Mortified heat climbed straight up his neck.“Oh. Uh.” Jamie stared very hard at the floor. “You wouldn’t know them.”“Try me.”Jamie opened his mouth.Then closed it again.“Well I— um.” He swallowed. “I can’t actually remember their name.”There was a small pause behind him.Jamie could practically feel Max processing that.“You don’t know their name,” Max said slowly.Jamie abandoned the conversation entirely. He shoved the laptop onto the desk, scrambled under the blankets, and reached blindly for the lamp.“Goodnight!” he blurted, plunging the roo

Max’s hips jerked once, sharp and involuntary, pushing up into the tight circle of his fist like his body had decided it couldn’t wait another second.Jamie’s own rhythm faltered for half a heartbeat, caught between staring and stroking, every nerve screaming to watch this unfold.Max’s head tipped back against the pillow, the muscles in his forearm stood out in sharp relief as he dragged his hand up one last time, slow, deliberate, twisting hard over the swollen head. Jamie couldn’t have looked away if someone held a gun to his head.Max’s abs clenched hard, a visible ripple running from ribs to navel. His thighs tensed, spreading just a fraction wider under the blanket, and then his whole body locked, shoulders rigid, breath punched out in a single, broken exhale.He came with a low, guttural groan that vibrated through the mattress.The first pulse arced high, thick and white, landing in a hot stripe across his left pec and streaking toward his collarbone. The second followed fast

Jamie woke in stages. His eyes cracked open, blurry with sleep, and for one blessed heartbeat everything felt safe and dreamlike. Then memory slammed into him.He shot upright so fast the blanket pooled around his waist, heart hammering against his ribs. The room spun once, then settled. Empty. Quiet. Just his desk, his neatly stacked notebooks, the faint gray light of a Saturday morning leaking through the blinds.It was a dream. Relief flooded him so hard his shoulders sagged. Oh thank God.Then his gaze landed on the nightstand.His phone sat there, screen dark. A yellow Post-it was stuck crookedly to the top edge. The handwriting was messy, slanted: Message me when you wake up.Below it, a phone number.Jamie stared at the note like it might vanish if he blinked hard enough. One second. Two.Then the illusion shattered.Oh my God. It was real.The memories crashed in fast and filthy: Dane’s hand on his neck, the desk edge biting into his hip, Max bursting through the door. Max

Jamie was still lying in the grass, heart hammering, when he looked up and found Max staring down at him.Their eyes locked. For one breathless second the world narrowed to green eyes and the faint split on Max’s lower lip, the one Jamie had cleaned with trembling fingers last night. Then Ava groaned and started untangling her limbs from his.Zach offered her a hand up with an awkward little smile. “You good?”Ava took it, brushing leaves off her sweater. “Yeah. Perfect timing, though.”Max extended his own hand to Jamie.Jamie hesitated half a second before taking it. The moment their palms met, Max pulled him up in one smooth, effortless motion. Jamie felt suddenly feather-light, like gravity had taken the day off. His free hand flew out on instinct and landed squarely on Max’s chest. There was solid muscle under that soft hoodie fabric, warm from his morning skate.Heat flooded Jamie’s face. He was close. Too close. Close enough to smell the faint trace of soap and ice. Close en

Max was already dressed for the game, pads strapped tight under his jersey, hair still damp from his pre-game shower. He’d slipped away from the noise of the locker room and found a quiet spot behind the equipment cages, far enough from the main hallway that no one would overhear. The concrete wall was cool against his back as he leaned there, phone pressed to his ear.It rang.And rang.And rang.Then, miraculously, it picked up.A laid-back voice answered. “Yeah, this is Noah.”Max straightened. “Hi. Noah. My name’s Max Sullivan. I play for Greyhollow.”A short pause, then recognition clicked in. “Yeah, Sully! The goalie, right?”“Yeah, that’s right.”Noah chuckled. “Yeah I remember you, man. What’s up?”Max got straight to it. “Right. Well, I decided I finally need to get serious about hockey. I’ve been playing backup goalie my whole career. Always have. This is my senior year.”“Mm-hmm.”“Look, I’ve been coasting… but I scored a goalie goal last night.”“No shit… yeah, I saw that