Page 37

Iris

I woke up sore, my thighs throbbing, a reminder of the night before. The ache spread through my muscles like a slow burn, and I relished it. I shifted slightly, wincing as fresh waves of pain shot through me—bruises blooming where Knox had gripped me too tight.

My fingers brushed over the marks on my skin, tracing the fading impressions of his hands like they were sacred relics. Each bruise was proof, tangible evidence that he had been there, that he had claimed me in a way I couldn’t deny. It felt exhilarating and terrifying all at once.

But it wasn’t just physical. Something deeper shifted within me.

I lay there in the soft morning light filtering through the curtains, feeling different—changed.

A part of me felt raw and exposed, like I had given him something that could never be returned.

The walls I’d built around myself began to crack under the weight of what we’d crossed together.

I rolled onto my back, staring at the ceiling as memories flooded back—the way he’d looked at me with that fierce intensity, how his breath had felt against my neck when he whispered those words.

It scared me how much I craved that connection—the need for him to touch me again, to grip me like he meant it.

But alongside that hunger came fear—fear of what this meant for everything else: my future, my goals, the jersey I fought so hard for.

Would I lose sight of who I was? Would I become someone entirely different under his influence?

I pressed my palm against my bruised thigh again and winced at the sharp sting—but it felt good. It reminded me of him. The reality settled around me like a heavy fog; Knox Callahan had left a mark on more than just my body.

I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the world around me fading into a blur as I replayed every second in that locker room. The air had crackled with tension, and I could still feel the heat of his body pressed against mine, his breath hot on my skin.

Knox’s growl echoed in my mind—my name on his lips like a warning and a promise all at once.

“Iris.”

That one word had wrapped around me, tethering me to him in a way that sent shivers down my spine.

He took me with an urgency that felt primal, like he was marking territory he never wanted to relinquish.

The memory of how he’d pinned my wrists above my head surged through me, igniting a fire that burned bright and unyielding.

I clenched my thighs together, feeling the heat pooling between them.

My body responded instinctively to the memory, betraying me as it always did when it came to him.

I felt disgusted with myself—how could I want him again so soon after everything?

I should feel guilty for what we’d done, for crossing lines that shouldn’t have existed in the first place.

But all I could think about was how much I craved him—the way he made me feel alive and reckless.

The ache inside me pulsed with every thought of him, making it hard to breathe. How could one moment with Knox Callahan turn everything upside down? The jersey seemed so distant now; my focus blurred by lust and desire.

It wasn’t just about the physical release anymore; it was about him—about wanting more than just a fleeting encounter behind closed doors. I needed to feel that connection again, to drown myself in the intensity of what we had ignited together.

But there was a price for wanting him this way—a cost that loomed over us both like a storm cloud threatening to break. And deep down, part of me feared losing control completely if I let this go any further.

Panic clawed at my insides as I sat up in bed, heart racing. I pressed my palms against my forehead, trying to stave off the whirlwind of thoughts swirling in my mind.

What had I done?

The exhilaration of last night faded under the harsh light of reality, and I felt it sink into the pit of my stomach like a stone.

What if someone found out?

The very idea sent a chill through me. If word got out about Knox and me—about what we had done—everything would change. My career was built on discipline and focus, on proving myself as a serious contender for Team USA. This was a delicate balance I had worked so hard to maintain.

My dad’s voice echoed in my head: “Keep your eyes on the prize, Iris.” He had always believed in me, always pushed me to be better, stronger. If he found out… Would he see me as just another girl caught up in some reckless fling? Would he think I’d let it all slip away for a moment of weakness?

The thought made my chest tighten painfully. I couldn’t let that happen. My future hinged on this opportunity; one mistake could shatter everything I had worked for since I first laced up my skates.

And Callahan—my coach’s eyes narrowed in judgment flashed before me like a warning sign.

He wouldn’t hesitate to use any slip-up against me.

If he discovered the truth about Knox and me, he’d write me off without a second thought, just another failed athlete who couldn’t keep her priorities straight.

I buried my face in my hands, frustration bubbling inside me. All because I couldn’t say no to him. To Knox Callahan—the man who turned everything upside down with just one touch.

But choosing Knox meant risking everything.

I told myself I could handle it. I could face Knox without letting everything we’d done spiral out of control.

I had to keep my head in the game, focus on the meeting with the team.

This was about our future—about my future.

But as I stepped into the rink later that day, doubt crept in like an unwelcome shadow.

Knox was already there, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. He looked casual, but there was a tension in his posture that crackled like static in the air.

When our eyes locked, my heart slammed against my ribs so hard it felt like a punch to the gut. Everything around me faded into a blur; it was just him and me, caught in this electric moment.

He wore that damn smirk again—the one that made my stomach flutter and my skin burn with heat. And it was there in his gaze—the memory of last night still simmering between us like a flame just waiting for a gust of wind to reignite it.

The way he looked at me sent a shiver down my spine; it felt as if he was still inside me, claiming me all over again. A wave of heat rushed through me, and I couldn’t help but remember how it felt to have him hold me captive, how he took what he wanted without hesitation or regret.

But this wasn’t supposed to happen—not here, not now.

I clenched my fists at my sides to steady myself, forcing back every thought that threatened to spill over into reality.

I couldn’t let anyone see how much this affected me; I couldn’t show weakness—not when everything depended on keeping up appearances.

Yet deep down, I knew one thing: despite all the chaos swirling inside me; I wasn’t sorry for what happened between us—not even a little bit.

I forced myself to sit with the girls, the familiar chatter swirling around me like a protective cocoon.

They laughed and joked, and I did my best to laugh when they laughed, to keep up the facade.

But every time I caught Knox's gaze from across the room, a bolt of electricity shot through me.

His eyes roamed over me, lingering on my skin, and my body remembered the heat of his touch.

“All right, ladies!” Coach Callahan's voice cut through the noise as he stepped up to the front of the room. “Let’s talk about expectations for tryouts next week.”

The room quieted, and I focused on him, forcing myself to look at his face instead of getting lost in Knox's eyes that had seen too much of me already.

“We’ve got a solid group this year,” he continued, hands resting on the edge of the table. “But it’s going to take more than skill to make this team. You need heart. You need grit.”

A knot formed in my stomach at his words. Heart and grit—that was all I thought about lately, but not just in terms of hockey.

He glanced around at us before locking eyes with me again. “I want you pushing each other harder than ever before—this isn’t just about making it; it’s about proving you belong.”

I swallowed hard. It felt personal; it felt like a challenge meant for me alone.

And I could feel it.

Feel Knox looking at me.

It sent heat pooling low in my belly, stirring memories I was desperate to keep buried.

“Know your positions inside out,” Coach added, pacing slightly as he spoke. “You should be able to anticipate plays before they happen.”

“Got it!” someone called out from the back.

“And remember," Coach continued, "no one gets a free pass here. We’re not playing nice; we’re playing for keeps.”

I nodded along with everyone else but felt detached from their enthusiasm as my mind raced back to last night—his hands gripping my hips, that dark promise hanging between us.

The meeting wrapped up quickly after that; Knox’s face faded into background noise as I struggled to find solid ground again. All I could think about was how every moment brought me closer to crossing an invisible line that could ruin everything I'd worked for—everything I’d ever wanted.

After the meeting, I spotted Chris leaning against the wall, his easy smile cutting through my turmoil like a lifeline.

“Hey, Iris!” he called out, his voice warm and inviting.

I forced a smile in return as I approached him, trying to shake off the tension coiling in my stomach. “Hey, Chris.”

“Want to grab some food later?” He shifted slightly, his hand reaching out to rest lightly on my shoulder. The touch sent a strange jolt through me—too gentle, too careful. It felt wrong compared to what I’d just experienced with Knox.

“Sure,” I replied, even though part of me recoiled at the thought. “That sounds good.”

His face lit up with that genuine grin of his, and for a moment, it made me feel guilty for what I had been thinking about Knox—what we had done. “Great! There’s that new place downtown; I’ve heard they have killer burgers.”

“Sounds perfect.” I nodded along as he spoke about the menu items. The normalcy of it should have comforted me; instead, it twisted in my gut.

I watched Chris as he animatedly described their signature dish, but all I could think about was how his hand rested on my shoulder—a far cry from the grip that had held me against those lockers last night.

Knox's hands were rough and demanding; Chris’s felt too light, like he was afraid to leave a mark.

The guilt twisted tighter inside me. This wasn’t just about protecting myself anymore; it was about lying to Chris—a guy who genuinely cared for me. He didn’t deserve this confusion or my deceitful heart pulling in two different directions.

“All right then,” he said, brushing aside his concern with a soft chuckle. “Let’s meet up at six?”

I agreed again, desperate for the cover—desperate to maintain some semblance of normalcy even if it meant pretending everything was fine when it wasn’t.

After everyone filtered out of the meeting room, I found myself wandering back to the locker room, though I didn’t even know why. The door clicked shut behind me, sealing off the world outside. The air felt thick, charged with memories that seemed to cling to every surface.

I sat on the same bench where Knox had fucked me yesterday—where he had made me his in a way I never thought possible.

My skin tingled at the memory, and I traced my fingers along the cool metal of the locker beside me.

The echoes of his voice still rang in my ears, a low growl that sent shivers down my spine.

I closed my eyes, letting the sensations wash over me—the roughness of his grip, the heat radiating from his body against mine. It wasn’t just lust; it was something deeper, something that scared me more than losing my shot at Team USA.

The realization hit me like a punch to the gut. I wasn’t scared of losing the jersey—I was terrified of losing him. Knox wasn’t just a coach or a momentary distraction; he had burrowed under my skin and taken root in my heart.

The weight of what we had done settled heavily on my chest. I could still feel him there—the ghost touches lingering like a brand on my skin. Had I really given him just my body? Or had I surrendered everything?

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.