All Chapters of ICE AND ARROGANCE : Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

66 Chapters

STICK GRIP LESSON

The arena felt colder than usual when we stepped onto the ice for morning practice. The lights hummed overhead, casting long shadows across the fresh sheet. Most of the team was still sluggish from yesterday’s war, but Caleb moved like a man with something to prove. Or something to punish. He skated beside me during warm-ups, close enough that our blades nearly touched on every crossover. His presence was a living wall—protective, possessive, and impossible to ignore. Every time I glanced toward the stands, half-expecting Kane to be watching from the shadows, Caleb shifted to block my view. “Eyes on your edges,” he said, voice low and rough as he circled me. “Not on ghosts.” I adjusted my grip on my stick, jaw tight. The bruises along my ribs pulled with every stride, a sharp reminder of how close Kane had come to recreating Lila’s nightmare. Coach Harlan watched from the bench, tablet in hand, already filming segments for the university’s social channels. The hidden agenda wa

BREATH AGAINST MY NECK

The locker room had emptied hours ago, but the arena lights still hummed low overhead like they refused to let the day end. I stayed on the ice after the team cleared out, skating slow laps to work the stiffness from my bruised ribs. Every glide pulled at the deep purple marks Kane had left behind, but the real ache lived somewhere deeper—under my skin, behind my ribs, in the space where Caleb’s almost-confessions kept echoing. I heard his blades before I saw him. Caleb emerged from the tunnel alone, helmet off, dark hair damp with sweat from whatever extra work he’d done in the gym. He didn’t announce himself. He simply pushed off and skated straight to me, cutting across the ice with that brutal, graceful power that always made my pulse stutter. When he reached me, he didn’t stop. He circled once, then slowed until we were gliding side by side, shoulders nearly brushing. “No one else is here,” he said quietly. “Coach left twenty minutes ago. Said something about ‘reviewing f

PRIVATE PENALTY DRILL

The house had finally gone quiet. I waited until well past midnight, heart hammering against my still-bruised ribs, before slipping out of my room. The hallway floorboards creaked under my bare feet like they were betraying me with every step. I’d changed into soft sleep shorts and a thin tank top, telling myself it was only because they were comfortable. The lie felt paper-thin, just like the walls between us. Caleb’s door was already cracked open. A sliver of warm lamplight spilled into the hallway. I pushed it wider and stepped inside. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, head bowed. He wore only black sweatpants, the same ones from this morning, riding low on his hips. When he looked up, the storm in his grey eyes had quieted into something heavier—something raw and exhausted and terrifyingly honest. “You came,” he said, voice rough. “You asked me to.” He stood slowly, towering over me in the small room. The space felt even smaller with both

PINNED ONCE MORE

The lamp cast a soft golden glow across Caleb’s room, turning the tension between us into something almost sacred. I stayed straddling his lap, arms wrapped around his neck, forehead pressed to his. His hands rested on my lower back—warm, steady, reverent. Neither of us moved to deepen the contact. We simply breathed each other in, letting the weight of the day settle between us like fallen snow. “You’re shaking,” he whispered, one hand sliding slowly up my spine beneath my tank top. His fingers traced the line of my vertebrae with heartbreaking gentleness, avoiding every bruise. “Still hurting?” “A little.” I didn’t lie. Not tonight. “But it’s not just the hits.” Caleb exhaled shakily. He leaned back against the headboard, pulling me with him until I was fully draped across his chest. The position pinned me against him—my breasts pressed to his bare chest, my hips settled over his, legs tangled. Through the thin fabric of my shorts I could feel him, half-hard and getting hard

THE TEAM’S BET

The weight of Caleb’s body over mine should have felt crushing. Instead, it felt like the only solid thing left in my world. We stayed tangled on his bed, his chest pressed to mine, one thick thigh slotted carefully between my legs. He kept most of his weight on his forearms, mindful of every bruise, but the heat of him still sank into me—steady, grounding, impossible to escape. His face remained buried in the crook of my neck, warm breath fanning across my skin with every slow exhale. I threaded my fingers through his dark hair, holding him there, terrified that if I let go he would remember he was supposed to be my captain and pull away again. Minutes stretched into what felt like hours. The house had gone completely silent around us. No creaking floorboards. No distant laughter from the guys downstairs. Just the faint hum of the refrigerator downstairs and the thunder of our heartbeats. Caleb finally spoke, voice muffled against my throat. “The team’s betting on us, you kno

SHE DON’T BELONG HERE

Morning light crept through the blinds in thin, golden slats, painting stripes across Caleb’s bare chest and the tangled sheets. I woke first, still wrapped in his arms, my back pressed to his front, his breath warm against the nape of my neck. One of his hands rested possessively over my stomach, fingers splayed protectively just below my bruised ribs. The other arm was curled beneath my head like a pillow. Even in sleep, he held me like he was afraid I’d disappear. I stayed perfectly still, afraid to break the fragile peace. His body was a furnace against mine—hard lines of muscle, steady heartbeat, the unmistakable evidence of morning arousal pressed against the curve of my ass. He was thick and heavy even through the thin fabric separating us, but he hadn’t moved once during the night. He had kept every promise: no pushing, no taking, just holding. Caleb stirred behind me. His arms tightened for a second, then relaxed as awareness returned. He pressed a slow, lingering kiss

LATE NIGHT SOLO SKATE

The house had fallen into that deep, post-midnight hush where every creak sounded like a confession. I couldn’t sleep. The bruises along my ribs throbbed in time with my heartbeat, but it was the memory of Caleb’s arms around me, his forehead pressed to mine, his whispered “I’m done pretending” that kept my eyes wide open. I slipped out of bed just after two a.m., pulled on leggings and a hoodie, and crept downstairs. The arena was only a ten-minute walk, and the side door code hadn’t changed since my first night here. I needed the ice. I needed the one place where everything made sense—where physics mattered more than politics, where I could outskate every ghost chasing me. The rink was dark when I let myself in, only the emergency lights glowing faintly along the boards. I laced up alone, the familiar ritual steadying my hands. When my blades finally hit the ice, the crisp crick echoed through the empty cavern like a homecoming. I pushed off hard, crossovers eating up the leng

CORRECTION TURNS DANGEROUS

The arena lights were still on when I slipped back inside the next evening, long after official practice had ended. My body protested every movement—the deep bruises along my ribs had turned a violent shade of purple overnight, making each breath feel like a reminder of Kane’s promise to break me the same way he’d broken Lila. But the ice called louder than the pain. It always had. I laced up alone under the dimmed house lights, the familiar ritual grounding me. When my blades hit the fresh sheet, the crisp sound echoed through the empty cavern like a heartbeat. I pushed off hard, crossovers carving clean arcs, each stride pulling at the bruises but clearing the chaos in my head. This was where I had always belonged—where physics mattered more than politics, where no one could tell me I was too much or not enough. I didn’t hear Caleb arrive until he was already on the ice. He glided out of the shadows near the tunnel, helmet off, hair damp from the shower he must have taken af

HE JOINS ME ON THE ICE

The rink lights had been dimmed to their lowest setting, casting long silver shadows across the ice that made the entire arena feel like a dream half-remembered. I should have gone back to the house after our stolen moment against the glass, but my legs refused to carry me away. Instead, I kept skating slow, lazy circles in the center, each glide pulling at the deep bruises along my ribs like a reminder that yesterday had been real. Kane’s hits. Lila’s ghost. Coach’s cold calculations. Caleb’s mouth on mine. The side door clicked open again. I didn’t need to turn to know it was him. The shift in the air was immediate—thicker, warmer, charged with the same electricity that had crackled between us since the first day I stepped onto his ice. Caleb glided out of the shadows, helmet tucked under his arm, dark hair tousled from running his hands through it too many times. He wore the same black thermal and sweats from earlier, the fabric stretched across shoulders still tense from hol

KISS ON THIN ICE

The arena felt like a cathedral built for secrets. I returned the next night, unable to stay away. My ribs still ached with every breath, the deep bruises a constant reminder of Kane’s promise to finish what he started with Lila. But the ice had always been my sanctuary, the one place where the noise in my head quieted and the world made sense again. I laced up under the low emergency lights, the familiar ritual steadying my trembling hands. I had barely completed my first lap when the side door opened. Caleb stepped onto the ice like he belonged to the shadows themselves. No helmet. No pads. Just dark sweats and a fitted thermal that clung to every line of muscle he had earned carrying this team. His eyes found me instantly across the vast sheet, grey and stormy and full of the same conflict that had kept both of us awake through thin walls. He skated straight to me without hesitation. “You keep coming back here alone,” he said, voice low as he slowed to a stop inches awa

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