His Dangerous Love On Ice

Chapter 1: OLIVE's POV I had the vibe pressed exactly where I needed it, my other hand squeezing my breast, and all I could think about was Cole. Cole in his blue practice jersey, hair slicked back with sweat, hands braced on the headboard above me while he f****d me slow and deep the way he used to before he left for Buffalo two months ago. God, two months. Two months of video calls that got shorter every week. Two months of texts that came later and later each night. Two months of him telling me he was too tired, too busy, had early practice. But right now I didn't want to think about that. Right now I just needed to come. I turned the vibration up, my back arching off the bed, my thighs spreading wider. Close. So f*****g close. The image shifted in my head. Cole's face. His hands. The way he used to look at me like I was the only thing that mattered. My breath came faster, my hips rolling against the toy, chasing that edge— The door slammed open. "Oh darling, I'm so sorry I interrupted. But playtime's over." My mother stood in the doorway, actually smiling while I scrambled to sit up, tangled in my sheets, trying to shove the vibe under my pillow before she got a good look at it. "Jesus Christ, Mom!" My face was on fire. I finally got the vibe into my nightstand drawer, my hands shaking. "Knocking is a thing!" "Your door was wide open, Olive. Be grateful it was me and not Hunter." Oh God. If my stepbrother had walked in on that I'd have to move to another country. "Mom, please just stop talking." She pressed her lips together but her eyes were dancing with amusement and I wanted to die right there on my bed. Living above the garage was supposed to give me independence, but it didn't stop my mother from barging in whenever she felt like it. Still, it beat paying Seattle rent. "We need to talk to you." Her voice got serious. "Grayson and I have exciting news." Exciting news in this family usually meant something that screwed me over. "Olive Monroe, I want you downstairs in five minutes or I'm dragging you out of that bed myself." The second the door closed I grabbed my phone. I needed to hear Cole's voice. Needed something good to balance out whatever disaster my parents were about to drop on me. I hit his contact. One ring. Two rings. Three. Cole always answered. Always. The screen flickered—video call accepted—and suddenly I was staring at a shaking camera propped up on something, angled weird. I could see him. Cole. Not alone. "Oh god, yes—Cole, right there—" A woman's voice hit me first, high and breathless. For a second my brain couldn't process it. Cole on his back, head thrown against the pillow, mouth open. A girl on top of him, blonde hair spilling down her back as she moved. "f**k, you feel so good—" "Sophia—Christ, Sophia—" The phone jolted with every thrust and I just sat there watching my boyfriend of two years moan another woman's name. I should've hung up. Should've thrown my phone across the room. But I couldn't move. "God, I'm close—Cole, I'm so close—" His hands gripped her hips, pulling her down harder, and that deep groan I thought was only for me— The phone slipped from my fingers. It landed face-up on my bed and I could still hear them. The wet sounds. Her moans. His name in her mouth over and over. Two years. Two years of freezing my ass off at his games. Two years of three-hour drives just to see him for a weekend. Two years of wearing his jersey like it meant something. He'd been f*****g someone else the whole time. Someone named Sophia. I grabbed the phone and ended the call, my hands shaking so bad I could barely hit the button. Don't cry. Don't you dare cry over him. But my throat was tight and my eyes were burning and my face was already wet. I didn't bother fixing my hair before heading downstairs. The main house smelled like coffee and whatever my mom had baked earlier. Both my parents' heads snapped toward me the second I walked in. "I was about to come drag you—" Mom stopped. "Olive, what's wrong?" I tried to say something but the second she asked, everything broke inside my chest. I sobbed, ugly and gasping, and Grayson was already crossing the room, pulling me against him, one hand in my hair and the other on my back. "Shh, hey, you're okay." "I caught him cheating." My voice sounded destroyed. Silence. Complete silence. Mom's mouth fell open. Grayson's jaw went tight. "That Buffalo pretty boy?" Mom's voice came out sharp. Angry. "You deserve better," Grayson said quietly. "You always have." I wanted to believe him. Right now all I could think about was Cole's face, the way he'd said I love you last time right before asking me to pick up his dry cleaning. "We had something we wanted to tell you." Mom's voice softened. "Hunter got the call. He's playing for the Chicago Wolves." My stomach dropped. "He made the NHL?" The promise I'd made eight months ago crashed into me. When you make it, I'll be front row at your first game. "The game is next week," Grayson added. "I know the timing is—" "Cole is on that team." My voice cracked. "I can't see him right now." "Then don't look at him," Mom said. "You made a promise to your brother." Guilt twisted in my chest because she was right. I had promised Hunter. Back when it seemed impossible, something we joked about over pizza and bad movies. "We have tickets to his first game—" "I don't know if I can—" Grayson squeezed my shoulder. "Hunter would understand. But he really wants you there." Mom grabbed a magazine off the coffee table and dropped it in my lap. "That's your brother. Front page of Sports Illustrated." I looked down at Hunter's face staring back at me. NEW BLOOD: The Wolves' Secret Weapon. Pride swelled despite everything. He'd worked so hard. I flipped to the next page and my entire body went still. An ad for some energy drink. But I barely registered what it was for. The man in the photo had his shirt half-unbuttoned, abs so defined they looked carved from stone. The energy drink was tipped against his mouth, liquid spilling over his bottom lip, dripping down his jaw and throat. His eyes were piercing. Cold blue. Staring at the camera like he could see through the page. Like he could see me. My thighs clenched and heat flooded my body so fast it made my head spin. "Olive?" Grayson's voice snapped me back. I'd been staring way too long. "Yeah, sorry, I—" I cleared my throat. "Who is this?" Grayson's entire expression changed. Got dark and dangerous. He gripped his coffee mug so hard I thought it might shatter. "Zane Mercer." The way he said the name sounded like it physically hurt. "Who?" "My nemesis."