Page 82 of Shots & Echoes

And that? That was all the permission I needed.

She was unraveling, and I fucking loved it.

Her breath still came fast, her lips parted just enough to make me think about what they’d taste like. But it was the way she gripped the locker behind her, like she needed something to hold her steady, that did me in. That made me want to push just a little more—to see how far she’d let me take this before she shoved back.

“You don’t own me,” she said, voice sharp, but there was something off about it. A crack in the ice.

I tilted my head, taking my time looking at her, dragging my gaze over every inch of her until she shifted beneath the weight of it. “Don’t I?”

Her jaw clenched, but she didn’t say anything. She knew better.

I let the silence stretch, thick and heavy. I could feel the energy pulsing between us, electric and dangerous, coiling tighter with every breath she took.

Then I leaned in again, just close enough to make her shudder—close enough to make sure she’d feel my presence long after I was gone.

“You can fight it all you want, Evans,” I murmured, my breath brushing against the shell of her ear. “But we both know how this ends.”

I pulled back, slow and deliberate, watching the way her chest rose and fell as she struggled to catch her breath. She looked wrecked.

Good.

I turned on my heel and walked away, leaving her standing there, fists clenched, lips parted, looking like she wanted to scream or pull me back.

I didn’t give her the chance to do either.

Because this? This was only the beginning.

I stepped out of the locker room, my pulse still hammering, my jaw tight. The cold air of the rink hit me like a slap, but it did nothing to cool the fire still raging inside me. Every inch of my body felt wound too tight, like I was one wrong move away from snapping.

She’d gotten under my skin.

I ran a hand down my face, inhaling deep, but all I could fucking smell was her—the faint trace of sweat, the bite of her shampoo, the goddamn electricity she left behind in that room.

I should’ve let it go. I should’ve walked away, put distance between us, reminded myself that she was nothing more than a player under my watch. But the way she had looked at me back there—the way her chest rose and fell too fast, the way her lips parted like she was on the verge of either cursing me out or begging me closer—had carved itself into my mind.

I had her now.

She could pretend all she wanted, could throw her walls up and spit fire at me, but I’d felt that hesitation. That flicker of something between us that neither of us wanted to name.

And now?

Now, it was only a matter of time.

I stepped out of the rink, but my mind was still stuck in that goddamn locker room. I pictured her standing there, fists clenched, chest heaving, looking at me like I was both her greatest frustration and the thing she couldn’t escape.

And maybe I was.

Nothing would be enough until she finally broke—until she admitted what we both already knew.

She was mine.

And soon, she’d stop fighting it.

Chapter 13

Iris

Istepped out of the locker room, heart racing, hands trembling. The cold air hit my flushed skin, and I fought to steady my breath. Knox hadn’t touched me. But it felt like he had.

---