Page 54 of Expose on the Ice

"You want to strip my life bare?" he growls, voice rough and filled with menace. "Let’s see how you like it."

His hands move in a blur, yanking at my clothes, tearing fabric. My blouse rips open, cool air hitting my now exposed skin. A gasp escapes my lips, half shock, half arousal. Carter’s eyes flicker to my chest, darkening with need.

His rough hands push my skirt up, bunching it around my waist. He tears my panties aside, the fabric snapping with a sharp sound. Shocked, but also hot for him, I’ve frozen, and he’s working his way across every inch of me like he does an ice rink.

Before I can catch my breath, Carter’s mouth is on my breasts, his tongue flicking over my nipples. The sensation is exquisite, sending jolts of pleasure straight to my core. I squirm beneath him, my hands reaching out to clutch at his broad shoulders.

His erection presses against me, hard and insistent. He doesn’t ask a question or wait for an answer. With one hand holding me firmly in place, his other guides his thick cock to my entrance. There’s no tenderness in his movements, only raw, animalistic need.

It’s powerful.

And scary.

And amazing.

He thrusts into me with no warning, and I cry out, the sudden intrusion sending shivers up my spine. He’s relentless, each powerful stroke driving me higher, pushing me towards the brink of madness. My nails dig into his back, leaving marks that will surely linger.

"Feel that?" he growls, his breath hot against my neck. "You’ve pushed past all my barriers and torn me wide open, Lily. Now it’s my turn."

His words only spur me on, my body responding to his every touch, every thrust. My hips move in rhythm with his, desperate for more. I want to hate him for his roughness, but the pleasure is too overwhelming. Each thrust sends waves of ecstasy through me, coiling tight in my core, ready to explode.

I’m yanked from my dream by the insistent buzzing of my phone

My eyes fly open, and I find myself alone in my bed, my body still trembling from the intensity of the dream. My sheets are damp with sweat, my chest heaving as I try to catch my breath. The echo of Carter’s rough touch lingers on my skin.

I lay there, heart racing, wide awake and shaken by the vividness of the dream. The line between reality and fantasy has never seemed so blurred, and the desire still thrums in my veins, pulling me towards thoughts I know I shouldn’t entertain.

But the pounding of reality brings me back to Earth.

I groan, burying my face deeper into my pillow. The events of last night play on repeat in my mind, quickly overwhelming the remnants of my dream, each moment of recollection twisting the knife of guilt and shame a little deeper in my gut.

Carter’s face, contorted with anger and betrayal.

His words, sharp and accusing.

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block out the memory, but it’s futile.

My phone buzzes again. I peek at the screen – Mark Turner. Great. The team manager is probably calling to revoke my press pass and ban me from the arena for life. I let it go to voicemail, just like I had with the calls from Coach Carson, half the team, Frank…

I pull the covers over my head, creating a dark cocoon where I can hide from the world and my thoughts. But even in the darkness, I can’t escape the gnawing feeling in my gut, and the truth of the situation: I’m torn between my career and my feelings for Carter.

I’d worked so hard to get here, to land this assignment. It was supposed to be my big break, my chance to prove myself. And now? Now it feels like everything is crumbling around me. And the person I’d considered sacrificing it for – to protect him, to be with him – hates my guts more than ever.

A loud banging on my bedroom door makes me jump.

"Lily Grant, I swear to God, if you don’t open this door, I’m breaking it down!" Jess’s voice carries through the wood, a mix of concern and frustration.

I groan. "Go away, Jess."

"Not a chance in hell," she says. "I’ve given you space, I’ve left food outside your door, but enough is enough. You’ve got ten seconds before I start kicking."

Knowing she isn’t bluffing, I reluctantly drag myself out of bed and shuffle to the door. I open it to find Jess standing there,hands on her hips, worry etched across her face. She pushes past me and into the room.

"Jesus, Lil. You look like hell," she says. "And it stinks in here."

I slump back onto my bed. "Thanks. I feel worse."

Jess perches on the edge of the mattress, her eyes searching my face. "What happened last night?"

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