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I loved that feeling of being claimed without a single spoken word between us—a silent agreement.

I focused on the puck as it skated across the ice, my heart pounding like a drum. It was just a drill—puck battles along the boards—but I felt an intensity in the air that made every movement feel monumental. When I finally collided with Knox, it was different than I expected.

His body met mine not with aggression, but with a deliberate force that sent a jolt through me. As we bumped together,his hand brushed against my hip—longer than necessary—his fingers lingering like a whisper against my skin. I froze for a moment, the chill of the rink suddenly igniting into warmth where he touched me.

I tried to shake off the sensation, but it clung to me like a brand. The ice beneath my skates became secondary to the awareness of him. The way his breath hitched slightly when our bodies connected sent sparks coursing through my veins, igniting something deep within that I struggled to understand.

Knox skated away, but the contact lingered, an echo of heat left in its wake. I fought to regain my composure as my teammates continued their drills around us, their laughter and shouts fading into a dull hum. All I could focus on was where he had touched me—how it felt both electric and terrifying.

My heart raced as if trying to catch up with what had just happened. I cursed under my breath for letting myself get lost in it—lost in him. It shouldn’t have mattered; it should’ve been just another drill. Yet somehow, it felt significant, like crossing an invisible line that shouldn’t exist.

I shook my head slightly to clear my thoughts and pushed myself back into the rhythm of practice, trying to bury the sensation of his hand on my hip beneath layers of focus and determination. But even as I moved, even as I tried to concentrate on hockey instead of Knox Callahan, that connection pulsed at the forefront of my mind—a reminder that nothing would ever be simple again.

Practice ended, and the ice started to empty, the chatter of my teammates fading as they gathered their gear and headed for the locker room. I lingered, unwilling to leave just yet. I craved more time on the ice—more time to escape from everything swirling in my head. The rhythm of my skates gliding against the surface felt comforting, almost meditative.

I didn’t know how long I had been out there, but the rink grew quieter with each passing minute. The overhead lights illuminated the pale blue surface, casting shadows that danced as I moved. I pushed myself harder, lost in the flow of it all—drifting away from thoughts of Knox and everything he stirred within me.

Eventually, I noticed movement at the edge of my vision. Knox stepped out from his office, a silhouette against the bright light behind him. He paused when he saw me still on the ice, a slight tilt to his head as if assessing whether I was done for the day or not.

He began to skate toward me, his movements fluid and deliberate. There was something magnetic about his presence that made it impossible for me to look away. I should’ve left; I should’ve packed up and gone home like everyone else. But instead, I stayed.

The space between us closed as he glided closer. Neither of us spoke; words felt unnecessary at this moment. We shared a silence thick with tension that pulsed like an undercurrent beneath our blades. It was palpable—a shared understanding that something significant was happening between us.

As we skated together, slow and deliberate, the sound of our blades cut through the stillness like whispered secrets. Each stroke brought us nearer in a way that felt both exhilarating and terrifying. My heart raced, matching the rhythm of our movements, and I could feel his gaze on me—intense and consuming.

Every glance exchanged carried weight; every push across the ice felt charged with unspoken words and desires we hadn’t dared to voice yet. There was an intimacy in this shared space—an unbreakable thread pulling us closer without needing to say a single thing.

I focused on keeping my breaths steady as we continued to glide together under the harsh lights of the empty rink, knowing deep down that this moment wouldn’t last forever—but right now? It felt perfect just being here with him.

He pulled me toward the corner of the rink, where shadows pooled thick against the bright lights. The noise from the outside faded, swallowed by the stillness that surrounded us. I let him lead me there, feeling a rush of adrenaline coursing through my veins.

I was done pretending. I could feel it—the barrier I had kept up was crumbling, piece by piece, with each step closer to him.

Knox stood in front of me, so close that our breaths mingled in the chilly air. His presence loomed large, an intoxicating force that made my heart race. I struggled to catch my breath as he raised his hand, brushing my jawline with his fingers.

His thumb grazed my bottom lip—soft yet electrifying—and every nerve ending in my body ignited at his touch.

“Still think you don’t want this?” he asked, his voice low and husky, reverberating through me like a distant echo.

I should have said yes. Should have walked away before this moment spiraled out of control. But I couldn’t muster the strength; it felt impossible to retreat now. The pull toward him was magnetic, and every ounce of reason slipped further from my grasp.

I shook my head, barely managing to form a whisper that hung heavy between us. “No.”

It wasn’t permission; it was surrender—a quiet acknowledgment that I had crossed a line I couldn’t uncross.

His gaze burned into mine as if searching for something deeper—something buried beneath layers of denial and fear—and I could feel my resolve melting away under his intensity. The shadows cloaked us in secrecy, shielding our unspoken desires from prying eyes. In that moment, nothing else mattered but thetwo of us standing on the edge of everything we hadn’t yet dared to claim.

The air crackled with tension as we lingered there, caught in a fragile balance between what was and what could be—a tipping point waiting to collapse into chaos or ignite into something beyond our control.

His hand slipped around the back of my neck, fingers warm and possessive. I felt a shiver race down my spine as he pulled me in, closer than I ever thought possible. My heart pounded like a drum in my chest, echoing in the stillness of the rink.

He didn’t kiss me—not yet. Instead, he held me there, suspended between anticipation and reality, making me wait. The tension thickened the air, wrapping us in an invisible cocoon that felt both electrifying and terrifying.

“Say it,” he demanded, his voice low and gravelly. It resonated deep within me, sending heat flooding to my cheeks. I hesitated for a moment, the weight of his gaze pinning me in place.

I was shaking—not from fear but from an overwhelming desire that coursed through my veins like fire. I knew what this was—a step off a cliff into the unknown. Every instinct told me to retreat, to cling to what little safety I had left. But somewhere beneath the surface of that instinct was another feeling—one that whispered sweetly of freedom and surrender.

“I want you.” The words slipped out before I could stop them, raw and honest. The truth hung between us like a spark waiting to ignite a flame.