Page 56 of Reckless On Ice

“Watch your hands, baby, or we’ll have a big problem,” he reminds me. “You’re the one who wanted to go out to celebrate. We could have gone home just as easily.”

I groan and move my hand back to more neutral territory, knowing he’s right. “Fine, I’ll behave,” I agree, kissing his neck quickly, hoping I wasn’t too obvious. It’s really hard to stop touching him. “When that video got out, I thought I'd just cost myself my future. The Hydras looked at me like I was nuclear waste. I lost my place to live, and it felt like everyone was against me. But it looks like I was unknowingly securing an even better future. Mark putting us together was the best thing that ever happened to me,” I tell him earnestly.

Knox’s eyes go soft before flashing with recognition. “Oh, shit, Mark called me during the game. I forgot to call him back. It’s kind of late, but he’s on the West Coast and usually up. I’ll call him now.”

He pulls his phone from his pocket and dials our agent. I watch curiously, wondering if he’ll even be able to hear over the late-night bar noise. I can only hear Knox’s side of the conversation, which proves infuriating as the conversationgoes on.

“Hey, Mark, sorry I was at Ryder’s game.”Pause. “Yeah, things are going well.”Pause. “No, he’s been great.” He chuckles at something Mark says. “Oh, we’rereallygetting along.” He listens intently for a longer stretch, his forehead creasing, and his smile dropping as Mark goes on. “Okay. That’s a lot to think about.”Pause.“Yeah, I’ll take some time.”Pause. “Of course, I know it’s almost everything I wanted.”Pause.“Alright, I’ll call you tomorrow.”

What the fuck is Mark telling him? Did he get dropped by his sponsors? Or did he get a new one like the Vers campaign? Is it something with the team? When Knox hangs up, I’m about ready to drag him out of the bar to have him describe in agonizing detail what that call was about.

“Knox, you better start explaining what he said, because I don’t like that look on your face. My mind is spinning through worst-case scenarios here,” I tell him immediately.

He passes a hand over his face and sighs. “Mark has been working on my contract details since this is a negotiation year. The Condors haven't committed to my requests. Mark has been shopping me around to have offers in case they don't want to renew. Chicago and Arizona have made two-year offers already with everything I want. I may end up having to leave Atlanta.” He rolls his lips in and lets them slide out again, a nervous tell when he doesn't know what to say. I love that I know him so well to have picked that up, but hate that he’s doing it now because of this.

“You could leave?” I repeat, the thought of losing Knox so soon after getting him back hits me like a sledgehammer to the gut. It’s hard to breathe around the knowledge that I wouldn't be able to come home to him, even with our crazy schedules. I took for granted that we would both be in the same city for the remainder of our careers, retiring from our respective sports, and then figuring out what came nexttogether.It hadn't even crossed my mind that we could be separated, despite the ever-present fear of being traded and now losing the security of remaining with his current team.

“It’s a possibility,” Knox says, running a hand over his head and sliding it down the back of his neck as he blows out a breath. “I’d planned to play a few more seasons with Atlanta, but if they don't want to renew my contract, I won't have a choice but to find a team willing to take me. I’m healthy now, and I have great stats, but I have a limited shelf life at this point in my career, so I’m not the prize most teams are looking for. It’s great to have two teams showing this much interest in me, honestly.”

That’s the worst part about professional sports—the short-lived careers that can be made even shorter by injuries. We have to play as hard as we can, for as long as we can, and make the most of the time we’re given with the teams that will have us, which is how I ended up here in Atlanta, anyway.

“The Condors would be fucking stupid to let you go,” I say with righteous anger as Lilah and the guys come back with trays of wings, buckets of beer, and a red cocktail that she putsin front of Knox.

“It’s the Crazy Condor,” Lilah says. “It’s Southern Comfort, gin, and sweet stuff. A badass cocktail for my badass bestie who doesn't drink beer.” She drops a kiss to the top of his head and moves to the other side of the booth to slide in beside Nico.

“Don’t kiss my boyfriend,” I snap at her, on edge from the call, before turning back to Knox. “Wait, how does she know you don't drink beer and I’m only just finding out?”

“We’ve actually gone out for drinks, and she asks?” he replies with a shrug.

“Okay, fine, now I know. But what are you going to do about the contract?” I ask.

“I don't know yet. I have another month or two of the season, so I don't have to decide right away. But this isn’t what I had planned, baby. Can we talk about it later? I want you to celebrate, not be worried about my contract when we only have tonight together before you leave for a road trip tomorrow afternoon, and I won't see you for a week.”

“Yeah, sure,” I agree reluctantly, because there’s nothing else to do.

So we put on the fakest smiles and face my teammates, celebrating a win that had put me on a high, only to be dragged back to earth by the reality of life with a man in another professional sport. The impermanence of our situation hammers home the one truth I can bank on at the moment: I need to love the hell out of him as much as I can.

When the group parts later, I know how I want to spend the remainder of my night. “Take me home and fuck me,” I tell Knox as we walk hand-in-hand to my SUV.

He stops, pushing me against the wall of the closest building, and in the amber glow of the streetlight, caresses my face like a man holding his most priceless possession. “Are you sure you’re ready for that? It’s a bit intense, and I don't mind what we have.”

Taking his hand, I slide it down to my throat as I stare him straight in the eye. “I want your cock buried so deep in my ass you’re knocking on my sternum because I want to be marked as yours more than anything. I’ll take that ache with me on the road and think of you every time I feel the slightest tenderness.” I can't wait for him to tear me up.

“Let’s get you home, then,” Knox says with his soft like leather smile as he squeezes my throat and kisses me.

When we get to the condo, my mind is spinning with the new information I have on bottoming. Knox educated me on a few things and gave me some tips on how to prep, so I’m about to spend a bit of time doing self-care in the bathroom. I’m not afraid or resistant to the idea of taking it up the ass as part of some masculine bullshit, because this is Knox, and when it comes to him, there’s nothing I wouldn't do. But this is virgin territory we’re treading, and he wants to take care of me this time. It’s weird being on this side of the physical line after leading us through it so far, but Knox is confident, and it’s sexy as hell, despite what I’m doing to get myself ready forhim.

When I walk into the bedroom, Knox has candles lit and a sexy playlist on, and damn if that cliché bullshit doesn’t work. Seeing my man stretched out on the bed in just a pair of black boxer briefs, with his gorgeous velvety soft skin gleaming in the low light, has my cock instantly hardening. He’s propped up on his elbow, casual as can be, as my heart races like a breakaway play is happening right in front of me, and I’ve lost sight of the puck. Only, it’s all excitement that has my heart rate hitting my max now.

“You are my walking, breathing fantasy, Ryder Kingston. I want you right here, in my arms in three seconds or I’ll show you what else I can do to that ass before I fuck it,” Knox says in his impossibly deep, smooth voice that sends shivers racing along my skin and lighting up every nerve ending with awareness of him. His scent is stronger than the candles, enveloping me and pulling me toward the bed.

I move up toward him as if on a string that’s been retracted at lightning speed, and fall into his arms as he smiles sinfully. Yeah, I’m not opposed to whatever he’s threatening, but I think I want what we’ve discussed even more tonight than to fuck around and find out what my sweet, devoted man can do when he really gets into his HandyManCan persona.

“Fast enough for the fastest tight end in the NFL?” I ask, taunting him with one of his player stats I’ve kept in my mind for years. His eyes widen as if he didn’t think I would care or pay attention. “Yeah, that’s right, I’ve followed your career. I’mso proud of everything you’ve accomplished and done. You are insanely talented. You’re remarkable, Knox. Turns out I was the one obsessed all along.”

Knox ducks his head into my shoulder to avoid the praise I’m heaping on him, but I nudge him with my nose and take his mouth with mine in a searing kiss, sealing the sentiments with my love and devotion. The sweetness quickly takes on a spicy edge when I part Knox’s thighs with mine and grind my hips against him. It’s so easy to get lost in the sensations when I’m with him. I don’t have to worry about being too rough, putting my full weight on him, or having to treat him gently when I’m running on instinct. He can take everything I dish out. He’s hard everywhere, from his impressively muscular frame that has a ladder of abs and those cum gutter lines so cut I could take measurements with them, to his damn amazing monster cock that is proud and rigid behind his briefs as I rub on him shamelessly.

Knox’s hands wander, sliding down my back and into my boxer briefs to grip my ass, and my hips flex involuntarily against him as I groan into his mouth. He pulls my hip and positions my leg higher over his legs, giving me better access to fuck against him as his fingers delicately trace along my balls and higher into my crack. I am acutely aware of where his fingers are while being so caught up in his fervent kiss and the rutting my hips are doing as my body fully takes over and has me moving against him, searching for friction. My cock is poking out of my briefs, which are bunching lower as bothKnox’s hand and my movements push them down, and still I can’t stop my incessant humping even to get fully naked. Yeah, men are dogs sometimes, it’s just the facts. When his finger slips inside me, it’s not the foreign invasion I expected, but a quick stretch and then a pleasant fullness I know can't even begin to rival what Knox will feel like.

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