Page 112 of Shots & Echoes

The questions spiraled in my mind as I sat there alone in the quiet room. My pulse raced with confusion and longing, but one truth burned brighter than all the others: I needed him.

But what did that mean for everything else? My dreams, my father’s pride—they were all tied up in this relentless pursuit for success. And yet here I was, wrestling with this insatiable desire for someone who could jeopardize it all.

As I stared into space, caught between reality and memory, I wondered if I could still fight this feeling or if it was too late.

Because once you let someone inside like that, there was no going back.

Chapter 20

Knox

Iwoke up with the taste of her still on my lips, her scent clinging to my skin. The moment my eyes opened, the memory of her gasps, her nails raking down my back, crashed over me. My body reacted instantly, hard and aching with the need to relive it.

I gripped myself, the image of Iris pinned against the lockers vivid in my mind. Her breathless cries echoed in my ears as I pumped my hand, rough and desperate. I could still feel the heat of her body, the way she clenched around me when she came. It was like she was right there with me, her legs wrapped tight around my waist.

“Fuck,” I growled, voice thick with need. The thought that she was mine now—that no one else could touch her—sent a jolt of possessive pleasure straight through me. My pace quickened, each stroke bringing me closer to the edge.

Her face swam before me, eyes wide and glassy with desire. I remembered the way she looked at me when I told her she was mine, the way she surrendered without a word. That look had seared itself into my brain.

I groaned her name as I came, muscles tensing with the force of it. The release was quick and brutal, just like our first time. And as I lay there, breathing hard, one thought consumed me: She was mine. Completely.

And nothing had ever felt better.

Pleasure faded, leaving nothing but a hollow, gnawing ache in its wake. My chest heaved, muscles taut, as I stared at the ceiling, the high already dissolving into something darker. Something heavier.

Reality clawed its way back in, sinking its teeth deep.

This wasn’t just sex. This wasn’t just release.

This was Iris.

And I had fucking ruined us.

The weight of it crashed down on me, twisting deep in my gut like a knife. If someone tried to take her from me—if she ever looked at Chris Langley the way she looked at me—I’d come undone. I’d burn down everything. The mere thought of her smiling at him, laughing with him, had my pulse spiking with something violent, something dangerous.

No one knew her like I did. No one saw the way she fought, how she bled for the game. No one deserved her the way I did.

And yet, here I was—laying in the wreckage of my own making.

I ran a hand through my damp hair, trying to steady the storm raging inside me. Images of her flashed through my mind like gunfire—her sharp grin during practice, the fire in her eyes when she battled for every puck, the way she had looked at me when she said,I want you.

Fuck.

That moment had split something open between us. Torn down the last fragile barrier I had tried to hold. And now there was no undoing it.

Then there was Sloane.

The woman who had flirted, charmed, and played her games. For a second, I had let it happen, had let Iris see it. And she had spiraled—jealousy cutting through her like a blade. And I had loved it.

Loved knowing I could push her that far.

But now? Now that same jealousy churned in my gut, sour and bitter, because I knew exactly how it felt.

If Iris ever turned to someone else—someone who saw her as just another player, someone who didn’t understand the war she fought every time she stepped onto the ice—I wouldn’t survive it.

The thought of losing her, of watching her slip away, suffocated me.

My fingers curled into fists, nails digging into my palms as I fought against the surge of emotions threatening to consume me.