Page 28

She took it, but her fingers brushed mine, and that one second of contact sent a sharp bolt of electricity up my spine.

She felt it too.

“Office. Now.” My voice was rougher this time, laced with a finality that left no room for argument.

I turned, walking away before she could respond.

Because I knew she’d follow.

I stepped into my office, heart still hammering, the burn of practice coursing through my veins. The door clicked shut behind me, sealing out the rest of the world. I yanked at my laces, trying to shake the restlessness clawing at my insides.

Then I heard it.

A soft knock. The door creaked open.

Iris.

She stepped inside, shutting it behind her with a quiet finality that sent a slow, dark thrill through me.

I looked up just as she turned, fire burning in those green eyes, defiance warring with something deeper. Something that mirrored the same fucking chaos in me.

I was on her before I could stop myself.

I backed her up—hard—until she hit the wall. My hands found her waist, fingers digging in just enough to let her know I wasn’t playing.

Her breath hitched, her chest rising fast beneath her jersey. My mouth hovered near her ear, my voice razor-sharp.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Not a tease. Not a challenge. A demand.

She inhaled sharply, trying to hide the way it shook. “What’s your problem?”

I pressed in, just enough to feel the heat rolling off her skin. My grip tightened.

“Don’t.” A warning.

“Fucking.” A promise.

“Play.” A threat.

“With me.”

Her throat bobbed with a swallowed breath, fingers twitching at her sides. Then, slowly, her hands lifted—flattened against my chest. Like she might shove me away.

She didn’t.

Instead, her fingers curled into my shirt, holding on like she needed something solid.

Like she needed me.

Electricity shot through my body, sharp and all-consuming. The space between us pulsed—thick, suffocating, a no-man's-land we were both about to cross.

And neither of us moved to stop it.

I could smell her sweat—clean, sharp, laced with that faint hint of shampoo that clung to her skin.

It mixed with the cold air, a contrast that only made the heat between us burn hotter.

Her chest rose and fell fast against mine, every shallow breath pressing her closer, making me feel just how hard she was fighting this. Fighting me .

I slid my hand lower, fingers grazing bare skin where her jersey had ridden up. Warmth radiated from her, pulsing beneath my palm like a live current, and fuck, I wanted more. I could press her against the wall right now. Crush my mouth to hers. Take everything I knew she was desperate to give.

But I didn’t.

Because if I started? I wouldn’t stop.

Instead, I held her there, pinned against the wall, letting the weight of my presence sink into her bones. I let the seconds stretch, let her feel the full force of what I wasn’t saying—what neither of us had dared to admit.

She squirmed, and that tiny movement sent a sharp thrill through me.

“I see you,” I murmured, my voice rough, low. “Every fucking move.”

Her body tensed, those green eyes flashing with something she couldn’t quite hide. She tried, but it was too late. I had her now.

“You think you can run around with Langley like it’s nothing?” My grip tightened, just enough to make her breath hitch. “Like I won’t notice? Like I don’t already fucking own you?”

Her lips parted, another sharp inhale, but no words came. She was caught. Frozen in this moment with me, torn between fighting back and giving in .

And hell if that didn’t set my blood on fire.

I wanted to claim her, mark her in ways that no one—especially not Langley—could ever erase. I wanted her to walk onto that ice knowing exactly who she belonged to.

But I held back. Barely.

Because once I crossed that line?

There would be no stopping.

She gasped, and the sound wrapped around me like a chain—tight, unrelenting. The truth sat between us now, heavy and undeniable. We’d spent weeks circling it, pretending it wasn’t there, but in this moment? There was no hiding. No running.

And damn if it didn’t feel like the most dangerous fucking thing I’d ever wanted.

Her eyes widened, a flicker of shock colliding with something deeper—something raw. “You can’t?—”

I cut her off, voice low, firm. “I can. I already have.”

Silence crashed down between us, thick and suffocating.

I could hear every shaky breath she took, the sharp rise and fall of her chest pressed against mine.

She was right there , close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from her, burning straight through the last frayed edge of my restraint.

I should’ve taken her. Should’ve shoved her harder against the wall and made her admit it out loud—that she felt it too. That she’d been feeling it just as long as I had.

But I stepped back.

Not because I wanted to. Because I needed her to want it first. To need it enough to come to me .

Her lips parted slightly, her breath still uneven as if she hadn’t fully recovered. The fire in her eyes flickered for a moment—uncertainty, confusion—before reigniting into something just as reckless as what was coursing through my veins.

The space between us felt unbearable now, tension vibrating in the air like a live wire.

“Knox…” she started, voice uneven, like she was struggling to catch up with everything that had just happened.

The way she said my name sent another jolt through me. It wasn’t just hesitation—it was something else. Something that told me she was already breaking apart at the edges.

I let the silence stretch just long enough to make her feel it.

Then, low and deliberate, I said, “Just think about what you want.” My tone was softer now, but laced with something darker, something still simmering beneath the surface. Something that wouldn’t wait forever.

Because this wasn’t a game anymore.

She nodded slowly, swallowing hard, breath still ragged from our collision. And as I watched the realization settle in—watched her come to terms with the fact that she was already mine —I felt it.

The shift.

The moment she knew there was no turning back.

Her eyes were wide, dazed, her chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. I could feel it— see it—the way this moment had wrecked her just as much as it had wrecked me. I waited for her to fight back, to shove me away, to tell me to go to hell.

But she didn’t.

She just stood there, frozen.

Waiting.

Wanting.

The air between us felt electric, charged with everything we refused to say. It was dangerous—undeniable. The weight of it pressed down on my chest, heavy and consuming. My heart pounded, fists clenched at my sides as I fought the urge to reach for her again.

Because I knew .

I’d fucking won.

Even if it destroyed both of us.

Her breath hitched, her lips parting like she wanted to speak, but nothing came. I could see the war waging behind those blue eyes, the part of her that wanted to deny this fighting against the part of her that had already surrendered.

I didn’t touch her again—I didn’t have to. She already felt me everywhere.

Then, as if snapping herself out of whatever had gripped her, she took a step back.

The spell shattered.

I watched her, pulse hammering, as she turned and walked out without looking back.

I should’ve stopped her. Should’ve grabbed her wrist and made her stay. But instead, I let her go, watching as she disappeared through the door, carrying every ounce of this moment with her like a brand against her skin.

And as silence crashed back down around me, something dark curled in my chest.

I’d pushed her away.

But not far enough.

Because no matter how much distance she tried to put between us, we both knew?—

She wasn’t running from me.

She was running toward what we already were.

I stared at the door, jaw tight, pulse hammering. My hands curled into fists at my sides, knuckles white as I fought against the urge to chase after her. Every muscle in my body screamed with the leftover adrenaline from practice, from her .

I had touched her—barely—but it wasn’t enough. Fuck , it wasn’t even close. The heat of her skin still burned against my fingertips, a ghost of something I hadn’t claimed yet.

I exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down my face.

That moment—seconds stretched into eternity—had changed everything. The tension that had simmered for weeks had finally cracked open, raw and electric. It wasn’t just hunger anymore; it was need , a sharp, aching thing sinking its teeth into my ribs and refusing to let go.

And now? I was done pretending.

I turned from the door and paced the office like a caged animal, each step echoing off the walls. The taste of restraint sat bitter on my tongue. I could still see the way her breath had hitched, the way she had looked up at me—unsure, wanting, fighting it even as she melted into my grip.

There was no jersey, no fucking game worth this kind of madness. The line had blurred beyond recognition, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to find it again.

I ran a hand through my hair, gripping at the strands like that might somehow pull me out of this spiral.

But it was pointless.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her—pressed against the boards, her pulse hammering against my palm, the fire in her eyes daring me to push her further.

I turned toward the window, my gaze settling on the ice. The place where we fought, where we collided, where she tried to outrun me and failed . She could pretend all she wanted—fight me, resist this—but it wouldn’t matter.

Because this wasn’t ending here.

She was already mine.

And soon, she’d know it too .