Page 60 of On Thin Ice

What wasn’t easy?

Being in love with Ethan Fucking Harrison.

Every day, I woke up pretending his kisses didn’t wreck me. That it didn’t matter when he begged for me in the dark, but acted like nothing had happened the next morning. Pretended I didn’t want to say those three stupid words—out loud—every time he touched me.

Hi, welcome to my TED Talk. I am a dumbass.

Despite knowing better, I kept letting him use me, and I used him right back. Touched him like it didn’t kill me when he rolled away afterward, muttering, “Fuck, I needed that.” Like it meant nothing that behind closed doors, he fell apart for me, but the second we stepped outside, he went back to acting like I didn’t exist.

I was a walking, talking cliché who didn’t have the first clue why we were sitting shoulder to shoulder, waiting to be called into a meeting with the General Manager and head of PR.

Ethan looked stoic and miserable, like he always did around anyone who wasn’t me. Like he hadn’t spent last night tied to my headboard, stuffed full and drooling around my cock.

Now, that same mouth was set in a grim line, his arms crossed tight like he was bracing for a fight.

Probably with me.

And still, my stupid heart tripped over itself.

I tore my gaze away, bouncing my knee and trying not to fidget like a guilty kid waiting to go into the principal’s office. Maybe they knew. Maybe the team found out. Maybe?—

“Sit still,” Ethan chastised, the expression on his face the human equivalent of a thundercloud.

“Okay, Dad.”

He gave me a look. The one that made most rookies cower. The one that just made me want to climb him like a tree.

I sprawled deeper into the hard plastic chair, my arm draped lazily over the back. I looked calm, like I didn’t have a care in the world, when really, I was two seconds away from dropping to my knees beside this sad, dying ficus tree and asking Ethan Harrison to love me back.

“Seriously, though,” he muttered, glancing around the empty hallway. “What the hell do you think this meeting is about?”

I shrugged, pretending my heart wasn’t hammering itself to death. “Probably offering me a raise for carrying your grumpy ass through October.”

His mouth twitched, the tiniest flicker of a smile.

Score one for Bell.

“You’re delusional,” he said flatly.

“And you’re in denial,” I chirped back sweetly.

He gave a low, warning growl under his breath—the same sound he made when he was seconds away from shoving me down onto the nearest mattress—or wall, or counter, or just about anywhere—and fucking me.

I had to bite back a groan as my cock twitched.

Before I could say something dumb, Chris Ramos waved us into his office. “Harrison. Bell. Come on in.”

I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans and popped up out of my seat like my ass was on fire. I sauntered inside, Ethan following behind and letting out a heavy sigh. Without even looking, I knew his scowl was firmly back in place.

The GM’s office was both too bright and too dark. Harsh, hospital white fluorescent lights flickered overhead, their hum a static in my brain, while the deep wood tones of the desk and bookcases reminded me too much of my dad’s study back in Cleveland. The air smelled faintly of a cinnamon-scented candle and stale tobacco.

I hated it immediately.

Ethan and I dropped into the leather chairs facing the big desk while Ramos settled behind it. Beside him stood Dante Crane, our head of Public Relations, along with Blair Kennedy, the team’s social media manager, and two younger guys in navy blue polos who I assumed were part of the marketing team, though I wasn’t sure in what capacity.

“Thanks for coming in,” Ramos said. “We’ll keep this quick. First off, good job, both of you. Excellent work the last few weeks.”

Ethan gave a stiff nod while I grinned like an idiot. He might be the one with a literal praise kink, but I was never one to turn down a compliment.

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