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His grip tightened slightly, his thumb brushing against my skin in a way that sent shivers through my entire body. The way he looked at me—fierce and possessive—made it clear he understood what I meant. It wasn’t just about physical desire; it was something deeper than that—a connection that drew ustogether like gravity pulling two celestial bodies on a collision course.

He didn’t hesitate after that. His mouth crashed onto mine—hard, rough, demanding. I gasped against his lips, caught off guard by the intensity. It was like a dam had broken, unleashing a flood of everything I had been holding back.

His hands slid down my back, under my jersey, under my rash guard, fingers splaying across bare skin. The contact ignited every nerve in my body, setting me ablaze. I melted into him, but it wasn’t soft or tender; it was desperate. My body pressed against his instinctively, seeking out more of that heat, that connection I hadn’t even realized I craved until this moment.

He broke the kiss to trail his mouth down my jawline and over to my neck, teeth scraping lightly over my pulse point. The sensation sent a shockwave through me—a mixture of pleasure and urgency that made me gasp again, my hips pressing into him instinctively.

The world around us faded into nothingness; there was only Knox and the ice beneath our skates. My heart raced as I felt the cold surface beneath me contrast sharply with the fire building between us. Every push and pull ignited something wild inside me—a hunger I never knew existed.

He moved with an unrelenting intensity, exploring every inch of my skin as if he were trying to memorize me in this moment. Each brush of his lips made me dizzy with longing and urgency.

“God, Iris,” he murmured against my neck, his breath hot against my skin. It sent shivers racing down my spine as he pulled back just enough for our eyes to meet again.

His gaze burned into mine—dark and possessive—and I could see everything he wanted written all over his face. There was no hiding now; the boundaries had blurred beyondrecognition. We were teetering on the edge of something dangerous yet intoxicatingly beautiful.

I found myself craving more—more heat, more connection—as if he held the key to everything I had been searching for deep inside myself.

He kissed me again, deeper this time. His tongue slid into my mouth, exploring with a confidence that left me breathless. It felt like a wildfire igniting every nerve ending, burning away all rational thought.

His hand slid up my stomach, fingers tracing the line of my skin beneath my jersey, under my shoulder pads. I gasped into his mouth when his palm pressed against my breast, rough and demanding. The sensation sent waves of heat coursing through me, igniting a hunger I had never known existed. I arched into him instinctively, craving more—more contact, more heat.

I needed everything he was offering and more; it felt like he was awakening something inside me that had long been dormant. I’d always played it safe, always kept a part of myself locked away, but with him? There were no barriers. No limits.

Every brush of his hand was electric; every kiss pushed me further into this intoxicating haze where nothing else mattered but the two of us. It was the most alive I’d ever felt—the thrill coursed through my veins like ice melting in fire.

But it was also the most dangerous I’d ever felt. Every instinct told me to pull back, to remind myself what was at stake—the jersey, my future, everything I had worked so hard for—but in that moment, those thoughts faded into the background noise of my mind.

All that mattered was Knox and how he made me feel—like I could burn bright and fierce without fear of getting burned myself.

And I didn’t want it to stop. Ever.

The kiss shattered like glass, the heat between us dissipating as quickly as it had ignited. Knox pulled back, resting his forehead against mine, our breaths mingling in the cold air of the rink. I could feel the warmth radiating off him, contrasting sharply with the chill. We were both shaking, caught in the aftermath of something explosive.

“Fuck, Evans…” he murmured, his voice thick with a mix of desire and disbelief.

I trembled beneath him, not from fear of what he might do next but from the overwhelming realization of what had just transpired. I wasn’t scared of him; I was scared of myself. I knew this wasn’t just about sex; it was everything—everything I had worked for and everything I stood to lose. The weight of that truth settled heavily on my chest.

He was a force—a storm that threatened to tear through my carefully constructed life. And somehow, deep down, I felt an undeniable urge to let him.

“Knox…” My voice barely rose above a whisper, heavy with unspoken thoughts and feelings that churned inside me like a tempest.

His eyes searched mine for answers I didn’t have. In that moment, we stood at a precipice where boundaries blurred and every logical thought faded into the background. It felt so right yet so terrifyingly wrong.

The truth hit me hard: I would let him do this to me again and again if he asked. That realization twisted in my gut like a live wire.

We remained locked in place for what felt like an eternity, suspended in this moment where reality hung by a thread, waiting for one of us to make the next move—and I wasn’t sure which way it would break.

I felt his body heat receding as Knox started to step back, and an overwhelming sense of desperation surged within me.I gripped the fabric of his jersey, fingers curling tightly as if holding on could somehow anchor him to me.

I didn’t say it out loud, but the plea hung in the air between us—silent, charged. I couldn’t let him go; I didn’t want this moment to slip away into the cold reality of what was waiting for us outside this rink. It felt too significant, too raw, like a spark that could ignite something more.

He paused, gaze locked onto mine with a fierce intensity that made my heart race. I saw the battle within him, and I knew he understood.

But then he pulled away gently yet firmly, leaving a void where warmth had been just moments before. “Tomorrow. Practice.” His voice was rough, carrying an undercurrent that had nothing to do with hockey. It was a promise—a commitment to this uncharted territory we were now exploring together.

As he turned and skated away, I stood there breathless and wrecked, my pulse still racing from what had just happened. The chill of the ice beneath my skates contrasted sharply with the heat still lingering on my skin from his touch. My mind raced as I watched him leave—the way he moved with purpose, like he owned every inch of this space.

And in that moment, clarity washed over me like a tidal wave: I was his. Completely. Forever.