Page 21 of Shattered On Ice

“Wow.” I shake my head, realizing that wasn't what I should have led with. “I mean, hi.”

“Hi, Westin.” Knight smiles, his face warming like a spring sunrise as he looks me up and down. I bask in his glow, fully in awe that he’s looking at me the way I know I look at him.

Then it hits me.

He’s here alone. He’s here for me. No one else to interrupt, no one to ask questions, no one to perform for. It’s just the two of us.

Neither of us has moved while we’ve taken each other in. I glance down at the threshold that still separates us. I should step back and let him in, which means we’re really doing this. Still, I hesitate. This isn't just some guy I’m going to hook up with. This is my best friend’s brother, and letting him into my house means letting him into my life and stepping over a line we can't uncross.

It also means keeping a huge fucking secret from Rook.

“You okay?” Knight asks softly.

“Yeah. Yeah, of course,” I reply quickly. “Just coming to terms with some things.” I rub my palm down my face. It’s still sweaty. Gross. What must Knight think of me, answering the door a hot mess?

“I understand. Take your time.” His voice is gentle, free of judgment. He calmly waits on the doorstep, like I’m not the rudest fucking person in the world to keep him there.

I let out a tightly held breath, anxiety and fear abandoning my body in a rush that leaves me ready to accept the truth. I fill my lungs with his sexy scent and the knowledge that I’m choosing him, and what we've decided to do, no matter the cost.

I reach out and grab his shirt, pulling him toward me with a grin. “Get in here.”

He laughs and comes willingly, falling against me, where he fits perfectly.

His breath fans across my cheek as he sighs. “I’m here.”

He’s here.

I lean in and inhale against him, eyes closing as the weight of expectation leaves me. “I’ve been thinking about you so damn much,” I murmur into his neck. Maybe admitting that makes me sappy, but it’s the truth. I couldn't keep my mind off him while I was away. Whether it was wondering what he was up to or dreaming about him, Knight filled my thoughts on a loop.

He wraps his arms around my shoulders, holding me as I cling to him. It’s almost embarrassing how good this feels, just to be held. When his fingers slide into my hair, I groan in pleasure. Driven by a sudden, desperate need to have him closer, I reach down to pick him up, carrying him into my house with his legs wrapped around my hips. I cast my gaze around wildly, looking for an acceptable surface to get him on.

He seems to understand my uncertainty. “How about the couch? Let’s talk first.”

I veer right and lay him on the plush gray velvet of the sofa I’ve never thought much of. With Knight lying on it, it’s suddenly something worth noticing. The material is nearly as soft as his hair, which I comb back from his face as I cover him with my bigger body. I want to be as close as I can, and he doesn't seem to mind. He widens his legs to accommodate my bulk and looks up into my face with a soft smile. We sink into the cushions together, as I hold myself up above him.

He reaches to remove his glasses, but I stop him. “Leave them. I fucking love those,” I admit roughly.

He smiles shyly and wraps his arms loosely around my shoulders as he stares up at me with red staining his cheeks. “I can see okay without them if they get in the way.”

I shake my head. “You know, I didn't think we’d be doing much talking when I asked you to come over,” I admit, voice thick with desire. Our bodies are aligned just right, cocks brushing through fabric with every subtle shift of our hips. It’s perfectly excruciating.

He smiles knowingly. “Soon, Wes. We need to discuss a few things for this to work. We both care too much about Rook to go into something this monumental blindly.”

Wes. My heart thumps out a pattering rhythm of pleasure as he uses another deviation from what everyone else calls me. It softens that uppercut of reality, and suddenly I’m more than willing to talk instead of fucking him into the couch immediately.

“You're right,” I agree, the frantic energy draining from me, revealing the exhaustion I’ve carried since landing in Québec. “I just…needed you. Going home was a nightmare—my dad’s expectations, seeing my old friends who’ve moved on. I felt like a stranger in a house that’s a shrine to hockey. Like I didn't fit in anywhere.”

I tense, realizing I’ve just burdened him with my issues, and wait for him to transform into a therapist to analyze my family dynamics or why my old friendships aren't serving me anymore. But it doesn't come. He just shifts closer, threading his fingers through my hair.

“That sounds incredibly lonely, Wes,” he says simply, his voice raw and present. No clinical distance or psychoanalyzing. Just him.

It’s freeing and unfathomable.

The tension releases, letting me fully embrace the moment. I’m so goddamn ready to have all of him. “Okay, what would you like to talk about?” I ask, tracing a finger along his smooth cheek.

“This stays quiet. Neither of us wants to hurt Rook, so we have to be careful about when we see each other and what we say around him.”

I nod. “Agreed. No reason for him to know about this, right?” A trickle of shame eases down my spine with my ease at deceiving my best friend.