Page 11 of On Ice

“No, it doesn’t.” He runs his hand over the blue comforter, a line between his dark brows.

“Well, you can trust me, okay?” I smile at him, hoping to reassure him. He was open and charming earlier, but now he seems really uptight and distant. I want that other Luca back. “I’m serious, you can trust me. I’ll be discreet.”

His jaw tenses and something similar to guilt flutters through his dark eyes.

I frown, wondering why he’d be guilty. We’re both adults. We both wanted to fuck. Maybe he feels like because of our mismatched power dynamic, I’ll think he took advantage of me? “I don’t regret it, Luca,” I say quietly.

He visibly winces. “You will.”

I give a confused laugh. “Why?”

His gaze is enigmatic as he studies me. Slowly the tension leaves his handsome features and his eyes soften slightly. Hereaches for me and I move to him. He pulls me against him, burying his face in my hair.

“You have nothing to worry about,” I say, kissing the firm, warm skin of his shoulder. “This will be our little secret.”

“Yeah? You good at keeping secrets, Evan?” His hand smooths down my back, one finger slipping between my ass cheeks.

I feel his dick harden against my thigh, and my breathing picks up. Excitement spirals through me as it becomes clear he wants more of me. I’m down for that. I’m fucking a hundred percent down for that.

Whether this night together is smart or not, I’m going to take as much as Luca is willing to give me. Once this night ends, I might never get another taste of him, and I’m not even close to satiated.

But that’s okay because something tells me Luca ain’t leaving anytime soon.

Chapter Four

Luca

I wake before dawn, disoriented by unfamiliar surroundings. The first hints of morning light filter through blinds I don’t recognize, casting stripes across a bed that isn’t mine. City sounds drift up from the street below; early delivery trucks, the distant wail of a siren, the steady hum of a city stirring to life. It takes me a moment to remember where I am, and then I feel him shift beside me.

Evan sleeps deeply, one arm thrown across my chest, his face peaceful in the gray light. His hair is mussed from my hands, and there’s a mark on his neck that I put there. He looks so innocent, cheeks flushed a rosy pink. Something uncomfortable twists in my chest at the sight. I’m used to maintaining distance, to never letting anyone close enough to matter. But last night...

Last night was different.

The memories flood back unbidden. His mouth on mine, desperate and wanting. The way he arched beneath me, breathless and beautiful. How he looked at me after, with such open trust it made my chest ache. No one’s ever looked at me like that before. Like they saw past the blood and violence of what I really am. But then again, Evan has no idea who and what I am. He still thinks I’m simply the new owner of his hockey team who fucks like a stallion.

With a smirk, I ease out from under his arm, careful not to wake him. The wooden floor is cold under my feet as I gather myclothes. We were in a hurry to fuck last night and I didn’t even bother putting my five hundred dollar suit on a chair. Everything is crumpled on the floor where I left it once my lust took hold.

I head to the bathroom and, once there, splash cold water on my face and try to get my head straight. The mirror shows fresh scratches on my shoulders, reminders of how passionate and out of control my night with Evan was. This was a mistake, no doubt about it. I thought it would just be a quick fuck, I’d tell Evan what my plans were, and I’d be on my way. Didn’t plan to spend the whole damn night.

But here we are.

I dress hurriedly, armor myself in Italian wool and silk. My reflection in the bathroom mirror looks calmer now. I’m back in control of my emotions. It was just sex. Really, really,reallygood sex, but just sex all the same. Now comes the part where I burst Evan’s bubble. I should have done it last night, but I didn’t. Now it absolutely must happen. I’ll admit, I’m not looking forward to telling him the truth. Not because I’m a nice guy or anything. It’s more about me than him.

I liked the way he looked at me last night. I liked pampering him and taking him home, like we were just two people on a date. Evan has no idea who I really am, so I got to play the role of the good guy for once. Anyone I’ve slept with in the last decade already had preconceived ideas about me before we even hit the sheets. Not that they were wrong. I am a brutal, murderous bastard most of the time. I have to be.

It was just nice to be someone else last night.

But now it’s time for the truth. It’s time to set Evan straight about what he really is to me. He’s an asset. He needs to know that. I don’t like disappointing him, but this is how it has to be.I’ll make sure he’s hugely financially compensated. That should help take some of the sting out of this fucked up situation for him. Money has a way of fixing what’s wrong.

Since Evan is still sleeping, and I feel bad about waking him up just to dump all this shit on him first thing, I decide to make coffee. The kitchen is small and disorganized. It takes way longer than it should to find coffee and filters. I’m eventually successful, locating the coffee in the freezer and the filters in with the canned goods.

“Why does he live in this shitty little apartment?” I mutter, scooping coffee into the coffeemaker. With no filtered water, I’m forced to use tap. I can’t understand why Evan seems to be living like a pauper. I know for a fact he earns the minimum salary required for lower-tier NHL players, and that’s no small sum. So why is he living in a dumpy apartment when he could easily afford a sleek studio downtown?

As I wait for the coffee to brew I look at some photos Evan has on the fridge. They’re mostly team photos. There are some with Noah and him, both grinning after what looks like a winning game. There’s also one faded photo of him with a woman who has the same eyes as him. In the photo, Evan is younger, probably high school age. The woman is smiling at the camera and Evan is smiling at her. Even though it’s only a photo, I can feel how much he loves her. I study the picture for a while, wondering if he had a happy childhood and that’s why he seems like such a well-adjusted person.

I shake myself as those sentimental thoughts go through my head. The worst thing I can do right now is to fixate on Evan as a person. I’m about to dump a big, dramatic moral dilemma on him. The last thing I need is to see him as human or to feel empathetic toward him. He is just a cog in the wheel.

With that in mind, I move on to a shelf over a small microwave that holds a collection of pucks displayed, each marked with a date; first goal, first hat trick, first game as captain. He obviously loves the game deeply if he’s collected all these sentimental souvenirs over the years. I grit my teeth as I realize I’m once more being sucked down a rabbit hole of what a great guy Evan is. If I keep this up, I’ll be tempted to start a fan club for him.

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