Page 67 of On Thin Ice

He was on fire, racking up points left and right—all of his nerves from the beginning of the season seemed to have disappeared.

Hockey players were a superstitious bunch of assholes, and the fact of the matter was since Bell and I had started sleeping together, I was playing better than I had in years, too. Apparently, getting railed on the regular had some kind of cosmic side effect that vastly improved a hockey player’s game. Who knew?

“Hey, Harrison,” Viggy called from a few lockers down. “Nice work on that rebound in the second. Pure hustle.”

I nodded in acknowledgment, forcing a stiff smile to my lips. I could live to be a hundred and still never get used to being complimented about my skills on the ice.

Something in my brain must have been broken, though, because the opposite was true when I was alone with Bell.

I lived for his praise. His words of affirmation. The way he could tear me apart and put me back together again with a well-timed “You take my cock so good,” rasped in that deep, filthy voice he reserved just for me.

Shaking my head to clear the fog that settled over me anytime my thoughts drifted in that direction, I bent to tie the laces of my dress shoes.

When I sat back up, my eyes went straight to him.

I couldn’t seem to help it.

He was fussing with the cuffs of his dress shirt, his tie still hanging loose around his neck.

I pushed to my feet and was reaching for my suit jacket when Dante stepped into the doorway, her steely gaze sweeping the room before landing on Bell—and then darting to me.

Uh oh.

“Harrison. Bell. Can I grab you two for a minute?”

My stomach dropped as a few of the guys hooted, making dumb kissy noises.

Bell rolled his eyes and grabbed his jacket. Shrugging into it, he called out, “Don’t be jealous, boys. The most gorgeous lady in the arena just can’t get enough of me.”

I snagged my tie off the hook and tied it in a sloppy knot as I followed him out, my gut tightening with every step toward Dante’s office.

We trailed her down the hallway to the other side of the building, our dress shoes clicking against the polished concrete and echoing in the narrow space. A muffled cheer erupted from somewhere nearby—fans lingering after the game, most likely. Dante’s continued silence ratcheted up my unease. By the time we reached her door, my gut was twisted in knots.

When we stepped inside, those knots doubled.

Ramos was there, leaning casually against the far wall, his hands in his pockets and his feet crossed at the ankles.

“Please, take a seat,” Dante said, gesturing toward two chairs on the opposite side of her desk.

Bell hesitated for just a second—his gaze darting between them—before he dropped into the chair on the left, all loose-limbed ease as he flashed them a cocky little grin.

It wasn’t his real grin, though. The real one was slightly too wide, the kind that crinkled the corners of his eyes and made it impossible not to smile back. The one I’d seen just this morning when I’d sleepily handed him coffee, our fingers brushing as the mug passed between us. The one that made me forget, for just a moment, all the reasons why this was a terrible idea.

This one was muted. Polished. A mask he wore when he thought he had a role to play.

I stayed standing for a beat too long, my brows furrowing, before finally sinking into the seat beside him.

Ramoscleared his throat and pushed off the wall, perching on the edge of Dante’s desk, trying to appear casual. It didn’t work. His fingers drummed twice against his thigh before he stilled them, crossing his ankles and then uncrossing them, making the desk creak slightly under him.

“First off, nice win today,” he said, nodding toward us both. “Team’s been on a hell of a tear lately.”

Bell flashed a grin, always quick to soak up praise, while I muttered a quick, “Thanks.”

“That’s part of the reason we wanted to grab you,” he said, turning to Dante, who picked up the thread of conversation seamlessly, almost like they’d practiced this ambush beforehand.

A sick, cold weight settled low in my gut.

They most likely had.

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