Page 137 of On Ice

Once all the arrangements are made, we stand outside the funeral home. Isabella watches Evan with an empathetic expression. “It’ll be a funeral your mother would be proud of,” she assures him, squeezing his shoulder.

“Thanks, Isabella.” His voice cracks. “Really. I don’t know if I could have got through all of that without you.”

I nod, well aware I wouldn’t have been much help. I don’t handle things like funerals. I have people who handle those things. Isabella and Mama took care of my father’s funeral with little to no input from me.

“Let me know if you need anything else,” Isabella insists. “I’m serious.”

“I will,” he says softly.

She gives a guilty smile. “I’d stay and have lunch with you guys, but Marco gets the cast off his leg today. He wanted me to be there.”

“Did he now?” I raise my brows.

Her cheeks tint pink. “Yes. He said I calm him.” She laughs. “Which is pretty funny, considering how much we butt heads.”

“I’m glad he invited you,” I say smoothly. “He should have someone with him. He tends to be too much of a lone wolf.”

She nods. “I agree.” She has a funny little smile.

I meet Evan’s gaze and he winks. He knows I’m hopeful that Marco and Isabella will get together. I think they’d make a wonderful couple, and they’re both already head over heels for each other. It’s just neither one of the will make the first move.

The drive home, Evan is quiet. Not surprising. What is surprising is when we get home, he wants sex. I thought maybe he’d want to go for a swim, or workout to burn off energy. But he has another way to burn off energy in mind. He leads me into the bedroom, and immediately strips down to his black briefs. His eyes are feverish, and I suspect he’s desperately trying to escape his depressing thoughts.

While I’m surprised he’s horny, I’m not about to say no. Not when his voice is low and desperate, not when his eyes are dark with a hunger that goes beyond the physical. Sex between us is never just routine, it’s often fucking primal. We have our moments when it’s slow and tender, all soft kisses and whispered promises. But right now, from the look in his eyes, this session is going to be raw, animalistic, a collision of bodies that leaves us both gasping and bruised.

I guess he wants pain, to bury the other pain.

I can see in his eyes that he wants to befilledto feelwantedin the most visceral way possible. He just needs me inside him, balls-deep, claiming him in a way that leaves no room for doubt about how much I want him. And Christ, grief or no grief, who am I to deny him that? My cock is already throbbing, pulsing with the need to bury itself in his tight, willing body.

I push him down onto the bed, his back arching as I yank his underwear down in one rough motion. He rolls over, his ass is bare, firm and perfect, just begging to be spread open and devoured. I don’t waste time with foreplay. I slick myself up with lube, my dick glistening and hard as steel, and position myself against his hole. He whimpers, and I feel his body tense, but then he pushes back, greedy, hungry for it.

“Fuck me,” he breathes, his voice trembling. “Help me forget for one fucking minute.”

“Yeah, baby? You want it rough?”

He groans, clutching the sheets. “Just… ruin me, Luca.”

And ruin him I will. I slam into him in one brutal thrust, my cock splitting him open, stretching him wide. He gives a chest deep groan, arching off the bed as I bottom out inside him. His ass is fucking perfect, hot and tight, clenching around me like a vice. I don’t hold back. I pound into him with everything I have, each thrust driving him deeper into the mattress. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the room, mingling with his choked moans and my ragged gasps.

He reaches back, fingers digging into my thigh as I fuck him harder, faster.

“Yes,” he groans, his voice breaking. “God, yes. Don’t stop. Don’t fucking stop.”

“I won’t.” I grab his hips, holding him in place as I drill into him, my cock pistoning into his ass with a rhythm that’s almost savage. His body jolts with every thrust, and he slips his hand under his hips, squeezing his cock.

I feel the pressure building, my balls tightening as I get closer and closer to the edge. “Feel me inside you?” I growl, my voice rough and low. “You’re mine. Just fuckingmine.”

He doesn’t argue. He just moans louder, pushing back against me as if he can’t get enough. And then I’m coming, my cock exploding inside him as I fill him with hot, sticky cum. He cries out and comes too, his body shuddering as he soaks the sheets with his cum.

Afterward, I collapse onto the bed beside him. We’re both sweaty and spent. He’s still grieving, I can see it in the way his body curls into mine, seeking comfort in the aftermath of our raw, messy fuck. But he knows I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here for him, no matter how long it takes for him to heal.

Epilogue

Evan

My tie feels too tight. It’s the same one I wore for post-game interviews after we won the Cup, now repurposed for my mother’s funeral. The past five days have been a blur of contradictions, smiling for cameras while grief hollows me out, giving sound bites about teamwork while arranging funeral flowers, planning my day with the Cup while selecting my mother’s casket.

Hawthorne & Sons Funeral Home sits on a quiet street lined with oak trees. The building itself is understated, all muted grays and tasteful landscaping. Inside, Mom’s casket is surrounded by lilies and framed photos of her life, laughing with Dad on their wedding day, holding newborn Matt in her arms, cheering from the stands at one of my high school games.

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