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“Chris,” I interrupted gently, trying not to sound too dismissive. “I know.”

He shrugged with an earnest look. “Just saying, if you focus on that part of your game, you’ll be unstoppable.”

“Right.” I nodded, though the weight of his words fell flat in my mind. “Thanks for looking out.”

He turned to face me fully as we stepped outside into the crisp air. “Want to grab food later? We could hit that new place down the street.”

The invitation felt harmless enough—a friendly gesture—but as he reached out and touched my shoulder lightly, warmth blossomed there for a split second before it fizzled out completely.

“Yeah… maybe,” I managed to reply, forcing enthusiasm into my voice even though something deep inside me cringed at the touch.

He leaned in closer, eyes bright with encouragement. “You’ve got so much potential; just keep pushing yourself! You’re already one of the best on the team.”

His words should have made me feel something—pride or excitement—but all I could think about was Knox’s voice cutting through practice like a whip crack and how much more alive I felt under his gaze.

I tried to shake off that thought; it didn’t belong here—not now.

“I appreciate it,” I said slowly, wanting desperately to feel something more with Chris but knowing it would never be enough.

It wasn’t him. It was never going to be him.

“You know what? Dinner sounds good,” I replied, forcing a smile that felt like it belonged to someone else.

Chris grinned, the kind of bright smile that could light up a room, but all I could feel was the dull ache settling in my chest. I wanted to believe this was enough—to convince myself that maybe I could still carve out a normal life, one that didn’t revolve around the chaos swirling inside my head every time Knox Callahan entered the room.

As we walked toward his car, I fought against the heaviness pressing down on me.

Chris’s presence should have been comforting, but every step felt like a betrayal of everything I craved.

My mind flickered back to Knox—his voice cutting through practice like a knife, how he pushed me harder than anyone else.

He saw something in me that even I struggled to acknowledge.

I climbed into Chris's car, and he turned up the radio to fill the silence. The music droned on while my thoughts spiraled back to Knox—his eyes, his relentless intensity—and how much it scared me to want him so badly.

The streets blurred outside as we drove, but inside my head, it was anything but clear. Chris chatted about practice and upcoming games; his voice faded into white noise as I grappled with the truth gnawing at my insides.

I kept telling myself this dinner would be normal—just two friends sharing a meal—but even as the words formed in my mind; they felt hollow. There was no escaping what had been ignited between me and Knox. It flickered just below the surface of every interaction.

When we arrived at the restaurant, Chris opened my door with a polite smile that almost made me feel guilty for what was happening inside me.

I stepped out into the cool air, hoping it might help clear my head.

But nothing could push away the heat pooling in my stomach—the remnants of his smirk from practice still burned bright.

“Ready?” Chris asked as he guided me inside.

“Sure,” I said too quickly.

But even as we sat down and he launched into another story about his teammates, all I could think about was how Knox’s presence lingered over everything like an unwanted shadow.

The laughter around us felt distant; each joke floated by without landing as the weight of what I truly wanted pressed heavily against my heart.

Dinner might be what normal looked like for everyone else—but deep down, I knew I was already grieving it before it even began.

That night, I locked the door behind me and turned off the lights, plunging my room into darkness. The silence wrapped around me like a heavy blanket, and I could finally breathe without pretense.

I lay back on my bed, staring up at the ceiling, where shadows danced in the faint light of the streetlamp filtering through my window. I let my mind drift, and it broke free from the tight restraints I’d held onto all day.

Images of Knox surged forward, flooding my thoughts like a tidal wave.

This time, I let them come.

I imagined him pushing me into the boards—his body slamming against mine with a force that stole my breath away. The impact sent shockwaves through me, and I could almost feel the sting radiating across my skin as if it had happened just moments ago.

His hand slid up under my jersey, fingers brushing against the bare skin of my stomach, igniting flames wherever he touched.

The heat radiated outward as I envisioned his breath hot against my neck, teasingly close but just out of reach.

His voice rumbled in my ear, calling me Evans , but it twisted in a way that made every syllable sound filthy.

A shiver ran down my spine at the thought of his mouth rough against mine—demanding and possessive. I felt his grip tightening around my wrist, bruising but thrilling all at once. The image filled me with a desperate need that curled tightly in my gut.

I let myself sink deeper into this fantasy, allowing it to consume me entirely. Knox was taking what he had been threatening to take since our first day together—the control he wielded over me transformed into something primal and raw.

I closed my eyes tighter against reality, losing myself in this longing that felt both exhilarating and terrifying. It was wrong—and yet so completely right.

The ache intensified within me; I craved him with an urgency that made everything else fade away until it was just us—the heat of his body against mine and that dark promise hanging in the air between us.

My hand slipped under the waistband of my shorts, fingers trembling as they brushed against the damp fabric of my underwear. I bit my lip to stifle a moan, hating myself for giving in to this twisted desire. But I couldn't resist the temptation any longer.

I needed release.

I needed him.

It was almost embarrassing to find how wet I was just thinking about him. And this was without him even touching me.

My fingers worked against myself with a frantic urgency, seeking out the sweet spot that would bring me the relief I craved. I imagined it was Knox's hand instead of mine—his rough touch sending shivers down my spine as he took control.

The fantasy consumed me, and I let out a quiet whimper as my body responded to the illusion. I pictured his lips curling into that cocky smirk, knowing he had me right where he wanted me.

But even as I reveled in the thought of his touch, guilt gnawed at the edges of my mind. This wasn't who I was supposed to be. I was Iris Evans—the perfect hockey player, destined for greatness on the ice. I couldn't let myself be consumed by this dangerous obsession.

My breath came in ragged gasps as I teetered on the edge of release, torn between the ecstasy of my fantasy and the crushing weight of reality. I hated myself for wanting him, for letting him get under my skin like this.

But in that moment, with my body trembling and my heart racing, I couldn't deny the truth: Knox Callahan had claimed a piece of me, and I didn't know if I'd ever be able to get it back.

As the waves of pleasure crashed over me, I let out a strangled cry, burying my face in my pillow to muffle the sound. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, and I hated myself for the weakness.

But as the aftershocks subsided, I knew one thing for certain: I was in deeper than I ever thought possible, and there was no turning back now.

I stared at the ceiling, my heart still racing, breath coming in heavy gasps. The shadows loomed overhead, flickering in the dark, but all I could see was him—Knox. His smirk, that wicked glint in his eyes. The way he commanded every space he occupied, even the space in my head.

“What the fuck am I doing?” I whispered to the empty room. The question echoed back at me like a taunt, and I cringed at the vulnerability it exposed.

But deep down, I already knew the answer. It lurked there in the corners of my mind, whispering truths I didn’t want to confront.

I was falling.

And I wasn’t going to stop.

The realization sent a shiver down my spine. Each thought of him felt like a tether binding me tighter to this reckless desire that threatened everything I had worked for. My future on Team USA hung by a thread while Knox's presence filled every void inside me.

I sat up slowly, pulling my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around them as if that could somehow shield me from this madness. The faint scent of ice rink sweat lingered in my clothes—his scent—and it sent another jolt of heat through me.

My mind spiraled back to practice earlier that day: the way he pushed me harder than anyone else, not just with drills but with his gaze—intense and unwavering. He had made it clear he was watching me; every move I made seemed to be weighed against some unspoken standard only he understood.

The thought made my stomach flip. Did he want me to break? Or was he testing how far I could go before giving in? Either way, he had succeeded; I felt like a puppet on his strings.

I exhaled sharply as frustration bubbled up within me again. This wasn’t just about hockey anymore; it was about something deeper—a dangerous game that left me breathless and wanting more.