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When a devastating injury threatens the career of Terence Tiles, the superstar goalie for the Seattle Kraken, the foundation of the life he meticulously built over eight years crumbles. Overwhelmed, he retreats from...
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There had never been a man to tackle me head on until him. With those big, strong arms and those dark, hooded eyes that softened as they stared deeply into my soul, he was an enigma I wasn’t ready to unravel. The gym had been my sanctuary, a place where I could lose myself in the rhythm of my workout, forgetting the world outside. But that day, he shattered that peace.
I shoved him off because I was terrified, and that feeling was new. We were a mess of heavy breaths, tangled in an unexpected and intense confrontation, when his Coach walked into the gym. There were many gyms, but Coach Michael chose to walk into this one. I rushed to get changed, his touch haunting my skin as I put on every piece of clothing, each fabric brushing against the memory of his hands. When I was done, I rushed past him, my heart pounding, my mind in chaos.
That was the day it began, his curiosity about me and my wariness of him. It was like he could see past every wall I put up, every defense I carefully constructed. Nadia, my best friend and his teammate’s sister, would drag me to their gatherings, insisting it was good for me to socialize. And it was there, amidst the laughter and chatter of his friends and family, that our glances would collide. They were heated, charged with an electricity that neither of us could ignore.
It became a game of sorts. A dance of stolen looks and fleeting touches. At every party, every gathering, I’d feel his eyes on me, a constant, smoldering presence that I both craved and feared. I was drawn to him, undeniably, but the intensity of my feelings scared me. I’d never let anyone get close, not like this.
And then, one night, everything changed. It was late, the party winding down, and I found myself alone with him on the back porch. The air was cool, the night sky clear and full of stars. We stood there in silence for a moment, the tension between us thick and palpable.
“Ivy,” he said, his voice low and rough, sending shivers down my spine. I turned to look at him, his face half-shadowed in the moonlight. “I’ve been wanting to ask you something.”
I swallowed hard, my heart racing. “What is it?”
He took a step closer, his gaze never leaving mine. “Where do you like being kissed?”
The question caught me off guard, and I felt my breath hitch. It was so direct, so intimate, that it left me reeling. My mind raced, a hundred thoughts and emotions crashing into each other. I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks, my body responding to the nearness of him, the intensity of his gaze.
“I… I don’t know,” I stammered, feeling exposed and vulnerable. “I’ve never really thought about it.”
His eyes softened, a small, knowing smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Think about it now,” he murmured, stepping even closer until I could feel the warmth of his body, his breath mingling with mine.
I closed my eyes, trying to steady myself, to find an answer that felt true. And then, without thinking, I whispered, “My neck.”
I felt his breath hitch, his fingers brushing against my skin as he gently tilted my head to the side. The first touch of his lips against my neck was electric, sending a shiver down my spine. It was like a spark igniting a fire, a sensation so intense that it left me breathless. His kisses were slow, deliberate, exploring every inch of the sensitive skin. I melted into him, every barrier I’d built crumbling in the face of this overwhelming need.
