Page 117 of Cold as Ice

Elliott gasped. Mal leaned over and kissed him hard as he slid home.

Mal did exactly what he’d promised—he fucked him into the mattress with long, hard, slow strokes that felt shockingly, surprisingly tender.

Maybe it was the way Mal kept kissing him, one hand cradled under Elliott’s head, like he was precious.

Like he couldn’t get enough.

And Elliott couldn’t either. He needed this man the way he’d never needed anyone else before. The thought that he’d let him down? Had been nearly unbearable.

“Stay with me,” Mal murmured into his mouth, and Elliott could only nod helplessly as Mal reached down and gave him one stroke and then another before he tumbled into the longest, easiest orgasm he’d ever had.

After they cleaned up, Elliott returned to that same position, cheek resting against Mal’s bicep.

“You really meant that, didn’t you?”

He could feel, versus actuallysee, Mal smile.

“Yeah, I sure did,” Mal said. “We’re good for each other. I used to think we weren’t. That you brought out the worst in me, on purpose, which actually felt even more aggravating. But—”

“But we’re good together. On the ice. Off it, too,” Elliott said. “Guess I’m not the only one who thinks so.”

“I should have told you about the scouts. Even if Zach told me to keep it under wraps.” Mal sounded like he blamed himself, which was ridiculous, because ifElliottdidn’t blame him, how dare he shoulder even a fraction of that blame?

Well, he was Malcolm.That’show he dared.

“Why did Zach even tell you?”

Mal chuckled. His hand, making long sweeping strokes up and down Elliott’s back, paused for a split second, then resumed. “He wanted me to stop arguing with you so hard. Look at what we were doing on the ice. See what was possible. That I might not have to acclimate to another forward. Give me an opportunity. Give usbothan opportunity.”

“And he had no idea why you might have another vested interest in keeping me around?” Elliott asked archly.

“Nope.”

“Huh. Well. Kudos to you for keepingthatparticular fact under your hat.”

“It wasn’t easy,” Malcolm claimed but Elliott only laughed.

“No, apparently all of us are on a hair trigger of making sudden confessions all the goddamn time,” he joked, poking Mal in the ribs.

Mal squawked. “I just . . .it was . . .youknowwhy I was worried!”

Elliott did, sure, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to give Mal shit for it. “Uh-huh.”

“Well, we should be worried about more than that. If you’re off the team, you’re not getting drafted.”

“You’re the one with the plan,” Elliott said, trying to banish the sudden flare of anxiety.

“I emailed the vice chair of the department. I took calculus last year for fun—”

Elliott squawked again and smacked Mal on the arm. “You didwhat?”

“I enjoy math, okay? It was fun.” At least Mal had the sense to sound defensive about this.

“Jesus fucking Christ, I’m going to end up with a nerd for the rest of my life aren’t I?” Elliott shook his head. “When I think of whatcouldhave been . . .”

Mal’s arm tightened around him, and Elliott was ninety-nine point-nine percent sure he was grinning.

“You cry into your coffee every morning?” Mal teased. “Anyway, as I was saying, I emailed Dr. Bricker, he’s the vice chair of the department. We struck up a sort of a friendship last year. If anyone can help us, it’s probably him.”

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