Page 50 of Hot Mic, Cold Ice

Color explodes in my vision as we reach our climax, our moans mingling in the night air. I lay my head down on her back, savoring the feeling of her body trembling against mine. For a moment I stay still, letting only the intensity of our connected bodies be my focus.

As the waves of pleasure subside, we stand there for a moment, catching our breath and basking in the afterglow of a fantastic finish.

“Wow,” Ziggy says, a satisfied smile spreading across her face. “That was…”

“Incredible,” I finish for her, my own grin matching hers.

We straighten our clothes, the reality of our surroundings slowly returning. I take her hand, leading her back downstairs toward the bar. At this point, the crowd has begun to thin out, and the bar is slowly emptying. Ziggy and I find a quieter corner, away from the leftover commotion. We sit close together, her hand resting on my thigh as we talk about the game.

“Seriously, I can’t say it enough. You were amazing out there,” she says, her voice filled with genuine admiration.

“Thanks,” I tell her, my heart swelling with pride. “It’s been a hell of a ride.”

She leans in, her lips brushing against my ear. “I’m so proud of you, Elliot.”

Those words mean more to me than anything else. Ziggy has been my rock, my anchor through the ups and downs of the season. Her support and belief in me has kept me going, and I couldn’t imagine doing any of this without her.

“Let’s get out of here,” I whisper, my voice husky with emotion.

I call us a car and we leave the bar. The city seems to have a different kind of magic tonight. A sense of possibility that mirrors the feelings swirling inside me. We make our way back to the hotel, each moment getting more and more difficult for us to keep our hands off of each other.

We don’t waste any time once inside. Our clothes quickly find their way to the floor as we stumble toward the bedroom, our lips never breaking contact. The intensity from earlier on the rooftop returns, but this time, it is charged with a deeper, more profound connection.

We fall into bed together, our bodies entwined as we explore each other. Every touch and every kiss is charged with electricity, and it isn’t long before we are lost in the heat of our passion once again. Ziggy’s touch sends me into overdrive. I can’t get enough of her, the way she feels, the way she moves, the way she makes me feel. I sink into her with a desperation that borders on madness.

With each new pleasure, our movements slow down, becoming more languid and tender. She lies there in my arms, our breaths mingling in the darkness. Eventually, we drift off to sleep, limbs still wrapped around each other. The worries and pressure of the outside world are gone, leaving only the comfort and security of being with someone who matters the most.

When I wake up the next morning, the first thing I see is Ziggy’s peaceful face, her expression relaxed and content. Waking up next to her is my second favorite way to start my day, the other being a much more explicit wake up. The sight of her makes me smile, feeling comfort and a sense of belonging spreadthrough me. A feeling I haven’t felt in a long time. One I don't want to let go of any time soon.

Her steady breaths and the warmth of her body against mine are both soothing and unsettling. I watch her, tracing the lines of her face with my eyes, the emotions that she stirs within me wrestling to the surface. Is it worth the risk of shattering the precarious balance we have by telling her I like her? I don’t know if I can go on without letting her know. I know we didn’t like each other at first and that this started in animosity, but it has been a very long time since she has done anything other than light up my world.

Chapter 38

My boss kept his promise, assigning me to cover every move, every game, and every victory of the Red Wolves. The energy that surrounds the team as they gear up for the playoffs is remarkable. I can't be more thrilled to be involved. From a professional standpoint, this is an amazing opportunity for me. Covering a team in the fight for the Stanley Cup gets me more national screen time than ever before. I am one step closer to my goal of being back in New York, covering national news. Personally speaking, being this close to Elliot is both great and confusing. But the confusion has to be pushed to the side for now–for my own sanity. My personal issues will continue to be ignored until they disappear entirely.

The last two weeks of my life has been an exhilarating roller coaster of the high-stakes drama of the playoffs. The first series was against the Los Angeles Gladiators, a team notorious for their aggressive play, and specifically for how they chase the crease. The flight to LA was quick but long enough for a buzzingsense of anticipation to build among the players. When we first arrived, the city greeted us with its typical sunshine and beaches. The team practiced endlessly, fine-tuning their play and honing their skills. I spent my days capturing every moment, from their intense training sessions to any relaxed downtime the players were willing to share.

So far, Oren has been the only one willing to spend his downtime with me on the record. The guy loves the spotlight. During my interview with Oren, I really get a glimpse into who he is as a person. The man is wild and out all the time and lives as freely as he plays hockey.

"So, Oren, tell us what you're like off the ice. We know the player, but who is the man behind the defense?" I ask, intrigued by his life.

"Well, Ziggy, off the ice, I'm a lot less aggressive, I promise. A little more wild maybe." Oren laughs, his voice saturated with a warmth that his rough on-ice persona rarely shows. "I like to have a good time, but not the kind that ends in a fight, if that’s what you’re wondering. More like the kind where you wake up and wonder how you ended up with three new friends and a bar tab that would make anyone blush."

I raise an eyebrow, intrigued by the glimpse of this other side of him. "Sounds like you know how to live it up, but I’m guessing there’s more to you than just wild nights and random bar tabs. What do you do when you're not out causing a scene?"

He leans back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, a playful smirk on his face. "I guess, I’m still trying to find that balance between being the guy who leaves it all out there in the game and the guy who goes buck wild any free chance he’s got."

"Sure," I say with a nod, smiling back at him. "I would recommend finding somewhere in the middle, might be safer."

He chuckles. "Yeah, well, right now I keep life interesting."

"Do you think you will ever settle down, any plans in that area?" I probe, knowing his reputation as the biggest player on the team.

He shakes his head, a smirk playing on his lips. "Settle down? Let’s hope to hell that never happens. I love my freedom too much. Plus, I need to live a true, unattached vibe to really come alive."

I pause for a moment, then ask, “Okay, serious question—what’s your favorite thing to do to unwind? Family-friendly answer only!”

Oren laughs, and it’s one of those deep belly laughs, like I’ve just caught him completely off guard. "Family-friendly?” He leans in closer, a grin still spread across his face. "Cooking."

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