Page 22 of Shattered On Ice

“Right. We’re having fun and trying this out. And we agree to be cool if it ends,” he adds reasonably, but I hear the note of worry in his tone.

If it ends.

I have no idea what’s going to happen, but my instinct is that I’ll want as much of Knight as he’ll give me. Having a soft out if he decides I’m not worth his time is an appreciated addition.

I give my chin a quick jerk of agreement before beginning my own negotiation.

“Condoms always. I’m tested regularly, and I’m clear, but that feels smarter.” I say. What I mean is it'll provide a shred of separation when I already want to attach him to my body and keep him with me.

“I’m perfectly fine with that,” he agrees readily. “I’m clear as well. And I’m on PrEP.” His lashes flutter, cheeks growing rosy as he drops his gaze to my chest. “Are you strict in your role preferences? I really enjoy bottoming, but I can be vers.” His eyes are the most perfect shade of green, glossy with hope as he blinks to meet my stare again.

I can already imagine burying myself inside his perfect body, and watching him fall apart on my cock.

“Strictly a top, and I can’t wait to have you at my mercy.” We smile at each other, relief palpable that we align so perfectly in our preferences. This next part may come across as a bit expectant, so I’ll have to phrase it correctly. “If you're okay with it, we only fuck each other while this lasts. I don't do the sharing thing well, and I’d be pissed if I knew you were with someone else. You’re mine as long as we agree to this.” That feels extra possessive and over the top to demand from something that’s essentially a secret hookup, but it’s the truth, and I feel I can ask Knight for it.

He looks down at my chest like he can see my heart racing beneath my skin and bones. When he meets my eyes, there’s a tender expression I like a lot. “I’m okay with that as long as it’s reciprocated. I deserve your best if I’m putting mine into this.”

“I’m yours,” I growl softly, my voice rough despite the gentle words. I’m more than okay with his insistence on reciprocating our exclusivity. This might be a departure from a typical hookup, but this isn’t the usual situation I’d find myself in. I’m already way more invested, and we both have more riding on this than any random situationship ever has.

Like he can read the direction of my thoughts, he says, “This stays casual. Right?”

I blink at him, wondering how I can even answer that. I have no idea what will happen once we get naked, but I’m willing to bet it will be electric. It’s hard to stay casual when you’re burning red-hot with someone. But he’s right. We’re building this thing on secrets and betraying trust from the start. There’s no world where our secret sexy times behind Rook’s back could lead to a lasting relationship. Sure, we’re united in our willingness to deceive Rook, but neither of us feels very good about it. The only logical conclusion is to keep it casual and not catch feelings.

But I’ve seen this played out in the countless rom-coms I’ve watched—my not-so-secret guilty pleasure. I know it gets complicated. Lines blur quickly, and the unattached participants suddenly find themselves in love and not sure how to deal with it.

“That’s gonna take some work, but I understand why it’s necessary,” I tell him candidly.

Knight looks up at me with big, beautiful green eyes that shine with trust and hint at desire. “We’ll have to be honest with each other, always. Tell me what you want. Don't hide your feelings to spare mine.” His body grows rigid below mine as he pauses, eyes dipping to my chest again as he delivers his last request. “If this stops working for you, don't drag it out. Just end it.” His voice has taken on a clinical distance, like a doctor reading a diagnosis rather than a man about to get naked.

He looks like he’s bracing for a hit, his knuckles going white where they dig into the couch cushion. Who the fuck made him think he has to negotiate a safe exit before we’ve even started? A sudden, fierce urge to protect him from whoever it was roars to life in my chest.

I roll my eyes and scoff, trying to dispel the heavy air. “Fat chance of that.” He eyes me seriously, waiting. “Okay, fine. If, for whatever reason, it stops working, I’ll let you know. I want you to do the same.”

The words just end it echo in my head, and I’m violently ripped backward in time to another place.

A sharp, phantom ache pulses deep in my jawline. The soft velvet of my couch disappears, replaced for a sickening second by the freezing, unforgiving concrete of the locker room floor. The heavy, metallic taste of copper fills my mouth. I see a pair of terrified blue eyes staring at me for a flash before a heavy metal door slams shut, echoing like a gunshot in my skull. My chest seizes as my lungs lock up, refusing to draw air while a cold sweat breaks out on the back of my neck. I’m completely paralyzed by the ghost of the last time I tried to hold onto someone.

“Hey, where’d you go?” Knight asks softly.

I flinch slightly as his fingers trace my face, but the gentle warmth of his skin pulls me back from the concrete. He cups my cheeks, turning me to face him. The terrified blue eyes of the past dissolve, replaced by Knight’s concerned green ones.

I shake my head as much as I can, with him holding me so gently. “It’s nothing. Just old stuff that hit me out of nowhere. Doesn't have anything to do with this,” I assure him, hearing the hollowness of my answer and hoping it was good enough to pass with a therapist.

He looks skeptical. I can see the therapist in him clocking the lie, reading the rigid tension in my shoulders just like I’d read in his moments ago. We are both carrying ghosts into this bed. But his eyes soften, and he makes the conscious decision to let it slide for tonight. He lifts his chin and presses his lips softly to mine. It’s chaste, nice, a comforting kiss. I want him so badly it doesn't stay that way for long.

I slide my arm under his back, holding him as I deepen the kiss, finding him willing and just as eager when he opens to me. The first brush of our tongues is tentative, testing. The tether of restraint snaps at the same moment and we crash together, teeth clacking and tongues tangling as we both give in. He tastes like mint and summer, reminding me of eating my favorite mint chocolate chip ice cream at my family’s cabin in Québec.

Oh, yeah. I can get used to that.

His hips surge up, hard cock brushing mine and making me groan into the kiss.

“Fuck, beautiful. Just like that,” I growl, hand sliding down his side and anchoring at his hip to help him grind against me. “Show me how much you want me to fuck that tight hole.”

He whimpers, the unexpected sound going straight to my cock. I flex my hips into him as he claws at my shirt. I let him pull it over my head and have to pause to untangle limbs from clothing before we rush back in, intent on making good on everything we set in place with our negotiation.

“Wow,” he breathes, reverence deepening his voice. It’s his turn to be at a loss for words, it seems. His hands explore my bare chest, brushing through hair I trimmed just for him, across my pecs, graze my shoulders, and circle my biceps as I shudder against him in pleasure at his touch. His lips return to mine as he kisses me with a desperation I didn't expect, but matches my intensity.

“How much of you do I get tonight?” I rasp between kisses along his jaw. I’m hunting for a spot that will—oh, there it is! He trembles and gasps as I bite at his earlobe and suck. I want him to lose his fucking mind for me.