Page 1 of Cold as Ice

Chapter 1

One year ago

August

It was him.

Elliott Jones stopped in his tracks, the party noise resonating around him, the music thumping and lights strobing, but the sight was undeniable.

Him. Malcolm McCoy. Living and existing in all his dark-haired, fucking-gorgeous-faced glory, leaning against the wall, an inscrutable expression on his face and an intense look in those unearthly blue eyes.

Elliott felt his heart stutter and stop, and his cock twitch in his jeans.

It had been this way the first—and the last—time he’d seen Malcolm too. He’d been visiting colleges, trying to decide where he was going to commit to playing hockey for, and Portland U had already been high on the list, but then he’d spotted Malcolm in the locker room after a game, pulling his helmet off, sweat-damp dark hair falling across his forehead, paired with a jawline that could—andhad—changed lives.

One life in particular.

Elliott’s own.

His sister Macey had teased him that he’d made one of the most important decisions of his life because his dick had been hard, and he’d flushed bright red because he hadn’t been sure she was wrong.

Of course, it helped that the Evergreens had a great coach that Elliott would love to play for and a storied history of not just team greatness but of sending players to the NHL.

He wanted a piece—abigone—of that success for himself.

And he wanted Malcolm McCoy.

When he’d arrived on campus, he’d planned to tackle both goals at the same time.

When Ramsey, one of the upperclassmen on his team and a crack defenseman, had invited him to this party, he hadn’t assumed he’d see Malcolm here.

But here he was.

Scowling, now.

Well, Elliott could do something about that.

He’d never failed to put a smile on someone’s face. In high school he was the easy, charming life of every party, and even if he wasn’t particularly interested in women, they loved him anyway. And guys? Well, even at the age of eighteen he’d been responsible for at least a few bisexual awakenings.

Elliott didn’t feel an ounce of shame about it. He enjoyed men and he enjoyed sex, and as long as it was consensual, there wasn’t any reason to regret it.

But Malcolm was a whole different story.

Elliottcravedhim. Just one look at him and he’dknownthey were meant to hook up.

Elliott sidled up to him, plastered one of his best smiles—the one that had almost never failed to seal the deal—onto his face and said, “Hey.”

In his opinion, it was always better to settle for something simple. Simple couldn’t backfire in your face the way overcomplicated could.

Malcolm looked over at him, startled. Like he couldn’t believe Elliott was talking to him.

Like he’d just died and gone to heaven.

Elliott puffed out his chest a little. This was going even better than he’d imagined.

“Hey,” Malcolm said gruffly.

He had the kind of voice—rough and low—that Elliott could already imagine hearing as Malcolm murmured into his ear as he thrust deep inside him.

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