Page 28 of Reckless On Ice

“I’d like that.” He sounds almost shy, and I can’t imagine why this big, cocksure man would get shy for me, but I fucking love it.

“You better favorite my profile and put on a notification for me, Big Sexy. I want you shaking for me when I see you again.” It’s too easy to slip into a commanding role and push him now,after seeing his reaction to my bossiness earlier.

But what if he doesn’t like a pushy man? He’s big, with alpha energy, and clearly fueled by testosterone and a love of working out, which can be hard to come by. He could have been turned off by this and only let it slide at the moment because he was horny and wanted to get off more than he wanted to correct me.

“Already did, baby. I’ll be fucking my hand thinking of you every day until I catch you next. You can believe I’ll be a pathetic mess needing you to make me come that hard again.”

Oh fuck, that’s music to my ears. He’s so perfect. “That’s my good boy.” He sighs in appreciation, and I smile, liking this little exchange we’ve established with the short online tryst.

When I exit the app a few minutes later, I have a text waiting from Knox.

Knox: Fuck you. Lilah said she didn't post any photos. Those were from other people at brunch. You have to deal with the fact that you were seen shaking your ass on stage with drag queens and you were having fun. It's not a crime.

I breathe out a huge sigh. He’s right. I did have fun, and even if people are speculating about it, it’s not something I have to be ashamed of. I type back a text.

Ryder: Fine. Maybe she didn’t post the photos, but if I find out she’s sharing any of them, her forgiven privileges arerevoked.

Now I have to clean myself up and think about why a faceless man on an app was able to get me off quicker than anyone has in years, and I wanted to spill my guts to him immediately after in some kind of awkward pillow talk.

Fifteen

Ryder

“Ryder, just the man I wanted to see!”

I freeze, biting back a groan as I exit the locker room after morning practice. I turn slowly at the bright, sunny voice of McKenna Kresley. She probably has some publicity request or promo idea to insist I help with again, like the opening night bullshit she roped me into by holding the rehabilitation of my image over my head. Her shiny red hair bounces in a high ponytail as she jogs up to me in her usual pantsuit over a Hydras graphic T-shirt and sneakers.

“McKenna, always good to see you,” I lie. She’s actually nice, but her job makes it difficult to enjoy being around her, despiteher having a likable personality.

“I loved seeing your drag brunch photos. It was a perfect turnaround from the last time you were in the press, and people are eating it up. I couldn't have planned it better myself.”

“That’s great?” I say, with more of a question in my words.

“We’re getting a lot of inquiries about the nature of the outing and your relationship with Knox Contraire, so any information you can provide me to field those would be great,” she says, her eyebrows raising like she wants me to clue into what she’s not saying. I hear her loud and clear. My shoulders creeping toward my ears and have to fight the urge to snap at her because it’s not her fault she’s getting questions about what I’m doing, but it is her job to help me look good. I roll my eyes and commit to answering the best I can.

“It’s part of the fucking sensitivity training I’m doing. Knox is helping me. Our agent knows he’s great with interviews and keeping his cool under pressure, and wanted me to learn from him,” I say quickly. “We were both forced into this. It’s not like we’re doing any of it together because we want to. Knox is putting me in these stupid situations that push my boundaries to force me to keep my head when I’d normally get mad. The drag brunch was sort of the live version of that. It was pretty fun.”

Her face brightens even more. “That’s incredible. What a story. You knew each other when you were younger, too, right? What’s it like reconnecting now?”

That’s a loaded fucking question even if she doesn't mean for it to be. Living with Knox, seeing him as much as I do, and having him beat these sensitivity lessons into me every chance he gets has been weird. It’s both nostalgic and awful. I’m constantly reminded of our friendship growing up and the rift I caused between us, but I don't even know where to begin to fix it. Learning how much I miss him has been eye-opening.

“We’re navigating what it’s like seeing each other as adults when we didn't leave things on great terms as kids,” I say, honestly. “I think the drag brunch was the first time we’ve had fun together in ages.” Look at me, being honest and open with more people. Turning over a new leaf and shit. Knox really is rubbing off on me.

“Well, the coverage has been amazing and has brought a lot of attention to the Hydras that we hadn’t expected, and ticket sales are up,” she says, wiggling her fingers at me like I should be excited about this, too.

“Yay,” I say without her enthusiasm, but I’m relieved to be moving on from the topic of Knox.

“We want to capitalize on the good feelings and pair you with our Pride Night initiative coming up.” She beams at me, but my stomach is about to fall out of my ass.

“You want what?” There’s no way she wants me to do anything that would align me with, what exactly—being gay? Because I’m not gay, and I don't want people to think I am. This is a terrible idea.

“We’re partnering with Outlanta, a local organization thathelps at-risk youth with resources. Things like providing community education, medical care after traumatic events, or basic needs like housing for those who lose their homes after coming out to their families, and resources for those who can’t come out for whatever reason. It’s a great organization and does amazing work for the community. They even provide a ton of resources and medical care for those living with HIV/AIDs, which gets pretty expensive.” McKenna is ticking off all of these things this organization does on her fingers, her big blue eyes widening as she goes.

“And how are you wanting to pair me up with them, exactly?” I ask hesitantly.Please don't say you want me to do some campaign that would put a giant spotlight on my sexuality.

“You’ll be the face of Pride Night! We’ll shoot a campaign of photos and videos with you, touting the benefits of Outlanta, letting fans know how they can help by bidding on the Pride Night jerseys or making direct donations. It’s a tight turnaround because Pride Night is next week, and our current campaign is fine, but having you involved would kick it up, so we’re willing to reshoot everything to include you. Besides, it would be so good for your optics. The GM and ownership would look favorably on the partnership,” she finishes, pounding the final nail in the coffin.

How can I say no to that? I’m already a PR nightmare, threatened with being traded. I’m at their mercy to do whatever is required to rehabilitate my image.

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