Page 23 of Expose on the Ice

As I power the engine of my desire, with thoughts of her as my fuel, I yearn to see all of her, to taste all of her. I imagine stripping her bare, the way she’s trying to do to me, then losing myself in the heat of her body and the fire of her touch.

I want to rock her world like she’s rocked mine. Open her up like she’s trying to open me up. Go deep inside, fast and hard, and make things explode like afuckingsupernova, just like she’s threatening to do to my life.

By now, my body is moving with a will of its own, powered by anger and lust. But it isn’t just about release, it’s about reclaiming power over myself and my life, proving to myself that she hasn’t affected me one damn bit.

No longer satisfied by images of her body, my imagination takes me further, into her, penetrating her with the same fierce energy with which she’s tried to penetrate my life. I teeter on the edge, my eyes squeezed shut, as pleasure slams into me like a blow to the chest.

I’ve lost all sense of time and space, consumed by the overwhelming need to explode. And, with a hoarse cry, I orgasm harder than I ever have. I feel like I’m shattering, like my body is breaking free of the stress and frustration of the last few days. I grit my teeth as wave after wave of pleasure ripples through me.

When I finally open my eyes, my heart is pounding, my breath coming in harsh gasps. And, at that moment, I get a flash of clarity that makes me even more determined to not let her win.

What does she know, anyway?I scoff.There’s nothing my teammates can tell her, and nothing to find.

It killed me at the time, and still does, but we’d covered up every inch of the truth about Sarah’s death, and Lily Grant doesn’t know adamnthing. As I head to the bathroom, my mind shifts to cleaning up. And not justthismess I’ve made.

She can flash all the leg and tit she likes, wear all the tight clothes, taunt me and grate on me, butter up to Coach and Mark and all the other shitheads in a jersey, but none of it will matter if I don’t let her get to me. If I don’t let her win.

Andthatisn’t going to happen.

CHAPTER 9

LILY

Notebook in hand, I settle into my seat in the press box, ready to observe the Frost Giants’ pre-game routine. The arena buzzes with energy, but my focus is solely on the ice below. As the players file out for warm-ups, I can’t help but zero in on Knox.

Our run-in at the hotel still plays on repeat in my mind. The way his eyes had flashed with anger, the tension crackling between us in that narrow hallway. But there had been something else there too – a heat that wasn’t just from frustration. I’d seen the way his gaze had flickered down to my lips, how his breath had caught when I called him out for staring at me.

I shake my head, trying to clear those thoughts. I’m here to do a job, not get caught up in whatever this thing is between Knox and me. Still, a small part of me can’t deny the thrill of our verbal sparring, the way he gets under my skin like no one else.

And the way my three-pronged plan to break down his defenses – spend alotof time with the team, butter up his teammates, and be always watching – has got under his skin. It couldn’t have gone better, succeeding beyond my wildest dreams.

I also can’t deny how good the last few days have been for my confidence. I’d started this job meekly, knowing I’d got my big shot yet feeling like an imposter, but in the heat of Carter’s resistance and the anger it sparked in me, a new Lily has been forged.

Lily 2.0.

Assertive.

Confident.

Sexy.

“You’re the terminator, bitch,” Jess had said, when I’d told her everything that had happened during a late-night phone call after my run-in with Knox in the hallway.

The thought brings a smile to my face as I watch the team go through their warm-up drills. I notice the intricate web of relationships on the ice, like watching a complex dance, with each player filling a specific role. Some gravitate towards each other naturally, while others maintain a respectful distance.

And then there’s Knox.

Despite the obvious friction between him and some of his teammates – the result of his recent poor performances and my efforts to get closer to them and underhisskin, no doubt – there’s an undeniable air of respect surrounding him. When he speaks, others listen. When he moves, eyes follow.

He’s their alpha. Their top dog.

I scribble furiously in my notebook, trying to capture every nuance, hyper-conscious that my first story is due soon. I’d been looking for an angle, and I think I’ve found it. The way Tank defers to Knox on a particular drill. How the younger players watch him out of the corners of their eyes, mimicking his movements. Even Coach Carson seems to value his input.

It’s fascinating to watch. Here’s a man who’s been nothing but hostile towards me, who’s made it clear he wants nothing to do with me. And, at times, it seems he’s that brash andaggressive with his teammates. Yet, on the ice, he has an authority that’s impossible to ignore. Nobody works harder, and nobody cares more.

As the team finishes their warm-ups and heads back to the locker room, I return to my notes. There’s a story here, about Knox and the team dynamics. It isn’t the story I’d planned to tell: an all-singing, all-dancing expose of the man himself, sharing his deepest hopes, dreams, fears, and secrets. But it will be enough to entice the readers and get Frank off my back for a while.

I spend the time between the warm-up and the start of the game typing out my story. When I’m done, I’m happy. This series is far from over, and I have a feeling the most interesting stories are yet to come, but what I have is a damn good start. I’ve painted Carter Knox as the eye of the storm, around which swirls a tempest that is much of his own doing.

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