Page 120 of Shots & Echoes

My vision blurred with tears of pleasure as his words pushed me closer to the edge. The thought of him inside me, filling me completely, was overwhelming. I could feel every inch of him as he claimed me over and over again.

“I’ll never let you go,” he murmured against my ear, his breath hot and ragged. “You’re mine.”

The possessiveness in his voice ignited something deep within me. I didn’t want him to let go—I needed this, needed him more than anything else.

My walls clenched around him involuntarily, drawing a guttural moan from Knox’s lips. His rhythm faltered for just a moment before he redoubled his efforts, driving into me with even greater intensity.

Every thrust pushed me higher, closer to that peak where everything else would fall away except for us and this connection we shared. It was raw and real and utterly consuming.

Knox’s hand slid from my hip to press against my lower back, changing the angle just enough to hit that perfect spot inside me. I bit down harder on my lip, tasting blood as I fought to keep silent.

But it was no use—the sensation was too much. My body convulsed around him as I came undone completely, waves of pleasure crashing over me in an unstoppable tide.

Knox groaned my name when he came—low and guttural—like he was branding it into my skin. Each pulse sent shockwaves through me, and I fell apart beneath him, shaking, breathless, knowing I’d never get out of this. I didn’t want to.

Silence enveloped us afterward, thick and heavy. The only sound was our ragged breathing filling the empty space around us. Clothes lay messy on the floor; my sports bra was twistedat an awkward angle, and my shorts were bunched around my ankles.

Knox brushed hair off my face with a tenderness that felt out of place in the wake of our chaos. But his jaw was tight, his expression caught between something softer and the lingering tension that hung like a storm cloud over us.

I pulled up my pants, feeling sharp eyes darting toward him as I tried to regain some semblance of control. “You didn’t answer me,” I said, my voice steady despite the tremors still coursing through me. “Is this all it is?”

He froze at my question, like I had thrown a bucket of ice water over him. The silence stretched long between us as he searched for words that wouldn’t come.

“Knox,” I pressed, the need for clarity burning in my chest. “What is this?”

He couldn’t look me in the eye. Maybe he didn’t know how to confront what had just happened—or maybe he feared what it meant for both of us. He turned away slightly, tension radiating from him as if he were wrestling with something deep inside.

“You know what this is,” he finally murmured, his voice low and rough.

I swallowed hard at his words because they both excited and terrified me. I wanted more than just this moment; I craved something real and lasting between us. But what if this was all Knox could give? A wild rush without a safety net?

The thought twisted painfully in my gut—what if this was all there would ever be? And maybe that would have to be enough, even if it broke me.

I studied him carefully, searching for any hint of reassurance or commitment hidden beneath his guarded exterior. Instead, all I saw was uncertainty—and it scared me more than anything else ever had.

Chapter 22

Knox

Iwoke up alone, sheets tangled around my legs, damp with sweat. The morning light cut through the blinds in jagged slats, slashing across the empty bed beside me. I blinked, the lingering haze of sleep doing nothing to stop the memories from slamming into me like a freight train.

Iris.

Her body beneath mine, her nails raking down my back, the way she gasped my name like it was the only thing keeping her tethered to reality. The heat, the raw need, the way she fucking surrendered—it was all I could think about. It owned me. And for a second, I let myself sink into it again, let the phantom touch of her skin drag me under.

But then it hit—the gut-punch realization that this wasn’t just about need anymore. This wasn’t just sex.

A tether had formed between us, tightening like a noose, suffocating in its intensity. I didn’t just want her. I needed her. And that thought? That need? It fucking terrified me.

I scrubbed a hand over my face, my knuckles still bruised from yesterday. Not from drills, not from any clean, controlledaggression on the ice—but from fighting myself. From trying to outrun the inevitability of her.

She wasn’t supposed to get under my skin like this. She was supposed to be a challenge, another body to push, another lesson in control. But now? Now she felt like the one thing I couldn’t control.

I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, elbows resting on my knees, my jaw clenched so tight it ached. My father’s words echoed in my head.

“Don’t break them.”

But I would. I already had.

---