Page 11 of Cold as Ice

“Bet you’re so picture perfect, all tight corners and straight A’s, youneverget in trouble,” Elliott sneered back.

And yes, that was true.

Before Elliott, he’d only snapped once before.

And well . . .he was not going to consider why it was that Elliott was now the second to add to the list.

What the two situations had in common.

“You say that like it’s something to be ashamed of,” Mal said as they headed towards the locker room to get dressed. “It’s something to beproudof.”

“Never unbending? Never having a bit of fun? Never flouting the rules, not once? Sounds fucking boring to me.” Elliott’s tonewas flippant and Mal found himself glaring at his bare back as he pulled on boxer briefs and then sweatpants.

So what if he was “fucking boring.”

He wasn’t trying to appeal to Elliott Jones.

Not even a little.

Elliott was sweating, a trickle of it working its way down his back and making his T-shirt stick to his skin, even as he tried to pretend that everything was fine.

Mal looked pissed off, though that wasn’t really anything new, but whatwasnew was that he looked worried, probably because he didn’t know why Coach wanted to see them.

But Elliott knew why—or at least he strongly suspected.

No doubt Malcolm believed it was over the near-constant battle of words they exchanged, but he’d heard Coach B tell Zach, the new assistant coach, that he didn’t mind because, “they’re pushing each other harder and faster.”

At the time, that had pissed Elliott off because he sure fucking wasn’t skating better than he ever had because ofMalcolm, but right now he was grateful for it because that meant there was one less thing Coach B could be pissed at him about.

Leaving the one, very big thing.

Mal shot him a worried look, even though he was definitely trying not to get caught doing it, as they sat next to each other in chairs opposite Coach B’s desk, waiting for him to walk in.

Zach was leaning against the back wall, arms crossed over his chest, his expression difficult to read.

But Elliott’s subconscious screamed theories at him.

He was pissed off.

He was frustrated.

Even worse, he wasdisappointed.

Elliott liked Zach a lot. In the future, he’d like tobeZach, though maybe with a few more years in the NHL before he retired. But still, he was worth emulating, and now Elliott had fucked this all up.

Coach B walked in and next to him, Elliott felt Malcolm stiffen in his chair.

No doubt he was preparing himself for the hammer to come down onhimfor some imagined slight.

Elliott supposed he could have told Mal what he was almost certain the summons was about, but he hadn’t been able to get the words out of his uncooperative throat.

He wasn’t sure he could live through a Malcolm McCoyI told youso.

It had been hard enough to live through a Malcolm McCoy total rejection.

Today’s hookup had had dark, wavy hair just like Mal’s and for a second, when he’d been blowing Elliott on his knees, he’d been able to imagine that it was Mal’s mouth around his cock, Mal’s hands on him, Mal pleading with him to come.

His orgasm had been a notch better than lackluster for the first time in what felt like months.

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