Temptation On Ice: My Rival Is A Girl

OUR IDIÒT!

CHAPTER 6

Hannah~

The girl doesn’t slow down.

She crosses the last stretch of concrete like she owns the air between them, reaches up on her toes, and presses a quick, familiar peck to the corner of Colton’s mouth. The kind of kiss that says she’s done it a hundred times and expects to do it a hundred more.

My fists clench so hard my nails bite into my palms.

Kill her, my wolf snarls, low and vicious.

I force my hands open again. Force my face blank. The last thing I need is to look like the new girl having a public meltdown over a guy I’ve known for less than a day.

Ethan drifts up beside me, still in his skates, voice low enough that only I can hear.

“That’s Colton’s girl.”

I blink. “Huh? His girlfriend?”

Ethan gives a small, knowing smile. “Technically yeah. But Colton doesn’t really do relationships. More like… a situationship thing. She’s his refreshment babe. Comes around when he needs to blow off steam, then leaves again. Everybody knows.”

Refreshment babe.

The words land wrong in my chest. Like something sharp that doesn’t belong there. I have no claim. No right. I shoved him away the second the bond tried to wake up and told my wolf to shut up. So why does the sight of her hand sliding into his make my stomach twist?

Because he’s ours, my wolf mutters, still bristling.

He’s not.

Your body disagrees.

I ignore her. Mostly.

The girl laces her fingers through Colton’s and tugs him. He lets her. Doesn’t look back once as they walk toward the main doors and disappear.

I stand there a second longer than I should, then force myself to turn away.

The rest of practice drags on.

My edges are messier. My stops come late. Twice I over-shoot a simple pass because my head is still stuck on the way she kissed him like it was nothing. Ethan doesn’t call me out. He just keeps feeding me pucks and saying “again” like he can tell I need the distraction more than the critique.

By the time Coach Mark blows the final whistle, my legs are heavy and my mood is worse. I peel off the borrowed jersey, toss it into the laundry bin with more force than necessary, and head for the elevators without waiting for anyone.

The apartment is quiet when I get in.

I drop my phone on the kitchen counter, toe off my trainers, and am halfway to my room when the front door opens behind me.

And unfortunately, it’s her. She walks in like she belongs there.

Same dark hair, same easy smile, now carrying a small overnight bag. She spots me and her face lights up with polite surprise.

“Oh! You must be the new girl Colton just told me about. I’m Sienna.” She steps forward and extends her hand, open and friendly. “Colton mentioned someone was staying in the spare room for a bit. Nice to meet you.”

My hand moves before my brain catches up.

I slap hers away.

Hard enough that the sound cracks through the quiet apartment.

Sienna’s eyes widen. Her hand drops.

I stare at my own palm like it has betrayed me, not believing what I just did.

“I—sorry. Reflex.” I stutter small.

It isn’t a full apology. It isn’t anything close. My wolf is snarling under my skin, pacing, furious that another woman’s scent is this close to what she has already decided is ours.

Colton appears in the hallway behind her immediately, still in his post-practice hoodie, hair damp. His expression goes from neutral to stone in half a second as he takes in the scene before him.

“What the hell was that?”

I open my mouth. Close it. Open it again. “It was a reflex. Sorry”

“You slapped her hand away in my apartment.” His voice is even, but there is ice underneath it. “I let you stay here. The least you can do is not act like a child when someone tries to be polite.”

Heat floods my face. Hurt first. Then anger, sharp and clean.

“I said sorry.”

“Didn’t sound like one.”

Sienna shifts uncomfortably, glancing between us. “Colt, it’s fine, really—”

“It’s not fine.” He doesn’t look at her. His gray eyes stay locked on me. “You don’t get to disrespect people under my roof just because you’re having a bad day. Figure your s**t out or find somewhere else to sleep.”

The words land exactly where they are meant to.

I feel my spine go rigid. “Understood.”

I turn on my heel, walk the short distance to my door, and shut it hard enough that the frame rattles. The lock clicks under my fingers.

Silence.

Then, from the other side of the shared wall, soft voices. I hear their low laugh, the quiet sound of a bag being set down and their door closing.

I press my back against my own door and slide to the floor, knees pulled up, my forehead dropping against them.

He’s an i***t, my wolf growls.

“I know.”

Our i***t.

“Shut up.”

Minutes stretch. I stay on the floor, listening to the ordinary sounds of someone moving around next door—drawers, the soft thud of shoes, water running briefly in the bathroom they share with me. Normal.

Then the sounds change. I hear a low, rough exhale and the creak of a mattress with fabric shifting.

Sienna’s voice, soft and breathy. “Missed this Colt, oh god’s.”

Colton doesn’t answer with words. Something heavier follows—and I instantly hear the slap of skin against skin, a quiet, choked sound from her that makes my stomach drop.

The mate pull wakes up like a live wire under my ribs.

Pain flares sharp and sudden in my chest, radiating outward until it feels like someone has reached into my chest and twisted. Not physical exactly. Worse. Like the bond itself is being scraped raw while I sit on the wrong side of a locked door and can’t do a single thing about it.

Another soft moan filters through the wall. Then his voice, low, saying something I can’t make out. The rhythm of the bed starts—steady, the kind of pace that says he knows exactly what he’s doing and isn’t in any rush to end it soon.

I press both palms over my ears.

It doesn’t help.

Damn hell. Why would they even consider making out knowing someone lives next door?

The mate pull keeps transmitting the sounds of every shift in my ears, every gasp, every time her breath hitches.

My wolf is frantic now, snarling and pacing and demanding I do something, anything, while I stay frozen on the floor with my back against the door and my eyes squeezed shut.

“i***t,” I whisper under my breath. “Complete, absolute i***t and whore.”

I can hear the sound of their mattress creaking harder as Sienna makes a broken little moan that goes straight through me.

Damn my hearing senses!

I drop my hands and curl tighter, cursing him in every combination I can think of—selfish, blind, emotionally stunted, and every other word that feels true in the moment. Blaming him for the way my body is reacting like it has any right to care.

I cut myself off and press my forehead to my knees.

My wolf is restless, hurting as the bond pulls in my chest like a bruise that keeps getting pressed on.

I stay on the floor with my back against the door, listening to the muffled sounds of the man who is supposedly my mate making someone else feel good, and I hate him for it.

I hate him for not knowing.

I hate him for existing in the next room and f*****g some other girl while I have to be the one to bear the damn pain.

Most of all I hate that some stupid, biological part of me still wants to open the door and make him stop-