Icebound (Boundless Players)

“After much consideration,” Andrea says on speaker in Camille’s office. “We’d like to offer you a sponsorship contract. We’d love for you to be one of the faces of ¡Vamos!, Mr. Tremblay.”

The words take a second to register because I’m staring at the glass desk. The last time I was in this office, I was devouring Nina’s pussy the same way Camille’s devouring her kale salad. Camille would stab me with that fork if she knew.

“Rhode?” Camille chomps on a dark green leaf.

I rip my gaze away. She’s silently twirling her finger at me, urging me to say something. “Sorry, yes. Thank you for the opportunity, Andrea. I really appreciate it, and I look forward to discussing the terms of our agreement.”

Camille launches into making plans for contract negotiations while I slump back in the seat, exhausted after our morning skate.

I thought I’d be relieved about finally securing a sponsorship, but I know what this means—more money means more pressure. I’ll have to make sure I’m at my peak performance because now I have another contract to uphold, and my body’s hanging on by a thread.

Tack on the fact that the media vultures are still asking about my retirement in interviews, and I’m tempted to prove them right and retire from the League once my contract’s up. That’d be a relief from the constant pressure and physical demands, but I need to get us to the playoffs.

The only person I want to talk to is Nina because she’s not immersed in the hockey world, but every time I try to call and apologize, it goes to voicemail, and she’s not answering my texts.

It’s beyond frustrating.

Mostly because I miss her, and not just the sex. Her jokes, her smiles, her stories.

Just her.

Our string of away games was a solid distraction, but it’s been over a week, and my regret is getting worse. I feel like shit for what I said. I don’t want her fucking another man, or whispering her secrets in his ear, or sleeping in the same damn bed. That sounds like a worse idea than the Dallas Stars choosing that alien as their mascot.

That’s it.

I pull out my phone and text Nina for the millionth damn time, while Camille irons out the details of my contract terms like a pro.

ME

Got off practice early. I’m coming by the studio even if you don’t respond. I miss you, and I know it’s Wednesday, so you’re there.

NINA

You stalking me?

ME

Holy shit you actually responded. What can I say? You drive me crazy. I’m stopping by. I have a surprise for you.

NINA

You better not say your cock

ME

That wouldn’t be a very good surprise since you’ve already seen it (;

NINA

Fine. What’s the surprise?

ME

A dick piercing. I got it for your pleasure *salutes*

NINA

How thoughtful

ME

Get excited. I’m about to level up our sex life

NINA

A thigh tattoo and a dick piercing? I’m one lucky woman

ME

The luckiest

NINA

I’m going back to throwing this pot now

ME

Try not to get too wet when you think of my dick piercing

NINA

It’ll be hard, but I think I’ll manage… and Rhode?

ME

Yeah?

NINA

I’ve missed you too

An hour later, I’m standing in front of the door to the university’s art studio. The electricity on the college campus is something I never got to experience because I went straight into the League. An odd sense of nostalgia tweaks in my chest while watching students walk around.

Their lives still undecided, wide open.

Despite the pungent paint scent in the studio, I smell as fresh as an Irish Spring after my shower. I’ve also turned my baseball cap backward because every time Nina glanced at it during the party, she’d bite her lower lip, and that look always makes me want to take a bite of her. I hitch my gym bag on my shoulder and poke my head in the art studio.

Nina’s hunched over a spinning wheel in an apron, glasses sliding down the bridge of her nose while molding her hands to the clay. Her tongue’s poking out between her teeth, and she looks so immersed in her art that I lean against the door frame, watching for a minute.

I’m somewhat jealous of the way she’s staring at her clay. She’s looking at her sculpture like how I used to look at a puck.

I lift my hand, raising it in a knock, when some blond guy in a flannel shirt walks out of the fire room. Kilm room? Kiln?

I can’t remember what it’s called, but that doesn’t matter when the guy’s looking down Nina’s gaping T-shirt. I clench my fists like that’ll stop this possessive feeling from spreading.

I cough to announce my presence because, apparently, all six-foot-four of me is invisible. “Hey, am I interrupting?”

Let’s hope so.

Nina snaps her head up so fast her glasses almost fly off. “Rhode? What are you doing here?”

“Not sure why you sound shocked. I told you I was coming over,” I say, ignoring the flannel guy.

I stride into the art studio, bypassing a massive mirror and some painting of a headless doll. I shiver. Creepy. The guy scans my face and smirks like he’s hot shit, but I invented that look in my twenties.

He shoves his tongue in his cheek, eyes flicking over me. “This your dad, Nina?”

I tighten my clenched fists.

These old man jokes are really grating on me.

She shoots him a glare. “Really, Noah? Stop.”

Noah can take the scenic route straight to hell. If he thinks he can one-up me, he’s dead wrong. I force a light chuckle like he’s a bug I’m about to wipe off my windshield. “Yeah, I’m definitely not her dad, man, but she does like to call me daddy in bed sometimes.”

“Rhode,” she cuts out, turning to the guy. “He’s joking.”

My brows fly up. “Am I? Because no one’s laughing.”

We look at each other like we’re silently communicating this guy’s a dick. At least, that’s what I’m trying to say with my eyes, but she shifts her focus back to her pottery. “We’re working on some pieces for the Peaceful Mind Project. Can we talk later?”

I sit down on an art stool and cross my ankle over my knee. “All good. I can wait.”

Her eyes narrow. “So, you’re just going to sit there and watch us throw pots?”

I roll my eyes like the idea’s ridiculous when that’s exactly what I’ll be doing. “No, I’m not going to watch you. I’ve got emails to respond to.”

I’ve got all of one email in my inbox, and I think it’s a Cross-Stitch of the Month subscription. I’ll do a crossword on my phone or something.

With a shrug, Nina goes back to her pottery, and I spend the next twenty minutes trying to figure out what ingredient in baba ghanoush could fit in eight boxes.

Eggplant? Yeah, that’s it.

I try to hide my glances at Nina, but it’s tough when I can’t stop watching her work. She’s so talented, and now I’m worrying about what I made her. What if she hates it?

Nina dips her fingers into the small bowl of water by the wheel before gently sculpting the clay. The water shines on her fingertips, reminding me of what my fingers look like when I shove them inside her.

Damn, she’s hot when she’s working all intense like that.

Heat races down my spine, and I shift on my stool, thinking of that nasty joke Cruz told this morning to stop it from spreading.

All of a sudden, Nina lifts her foot from the pedal and huffs, blowing a strand of hair off her forehead. “You know what? Can we finish this later, Noah? I should probably talk to Rhode.”

I clap my hands together. “That sounds like a brilliant idea.”

Noah wipes his hands on his apron, giving me a sideways glance. “Sure, but maybe we could get coffee after class on Thursday?”

“Bold move,” I almost growl.

His cheeks turn red. Good. Whatever expression he sees on my face has him backtracking. “Or, uh, maybe some other time. I’ll see you in class, Nina.”

He sprints out of the studio, and I watch the door swing shut with a smug grin, but it falls when Nina pierces me with a look. This girl could rival Coach Watson’s death stare. But unlike Coach, Nina’s glare gets me a little hard.

“So, you and Noah, huh?” I try to keep my voice calm, but it’s difficult when I’m still thinking about Nina and Noah-fucking-potter-boy together, hunched over a wheel.

They’re a better match because they’re the same age, but I’m not sweating the age gap anymore. So what if I’m older? Big deal. She’s got a way of making me feel like a rookie again.

“We’re in the same sculptural ceramics class.” She presses the pedal, spinning the wheel faster. “That’s all.”

“You fucking him?”

“Every night,” she deadpans, molding the clay.

My girl’s such a bad liar. “Do you scream my name when he makes you come?”

She scowls.

I give her my best smirk. “Actually, on second thought, there’s no way that boy is making you come.”

“I thought you told me to find someone else?” she challenges.

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” I narrow my eyes. “Turns out, I’m not very good at sharing. In fact, I’d say it’s one of my worst qualities.”

“You’re the only one I want, Rhode.”

Hearing her admit that douses some of the fire in my chest. “Good, because I want you all to myself.”

I stalk toward her and straddle the pottery bench behind her, kneading my thumb over the back of her neck since her shoulders look a little tense. She sucks in a sharp breath, scooting her ass backward so it hits my dick.

I tug her ponytail so she’s forced to look back. “Careful, there. Watching you work is a big turn-on, so keep doing that and I’m going to have a massive problem in my jeans.”

“Oh, massive, is it?” The little fox shoves her ass back right against me, wiggling so my cock stiffens in my pants.

I rub my hands up her bare arms, making goosebumps pebble on her skin. “Gigantic.”

“I think your ego’s bigger than your dick. Please tell me you didn’t actually get a piercing because I like your cock just the way it is. No need to change anything for me.”

“Say that again,” I murmur, scratching my stubble against her cheek. “How much do you like my cock?”

She rests her head back against my shoulder. “You already know how much I like it.”

“Yeah? Is that the only thing you like about me?”

“It’s one of many.”

I dip my hand under her apron, checking the door to make sure no one’s walking past the room. At least the apron hides my hand, and I’ll be quick about this since I know exactly how to get my girl off.

I brush my hands over the zipper of her jeans, pressing my middle finger over her center. “Do you want me to stop, or do you want to be a greedy girl and come all over my fingers? Your call.”

I pinch the fabric over her clit, and she releases a moan that makes me even harder. “The second one,” she pants. “Definitely, the second one.”

She’s going to hate me for what I’m about to do to her. “You’re gonna have to say it for me.”

“I want to come all over your fingers.”

My lips curl against the softness of her neck. That’s exactly what’s not going to happen.

I pull down the zipper of her jeans and dip my hand into the bowl of water by the spinning wheel. Sliding my fingers beneath her panties, I start tracing circles around her clit, all while eyeing the door. No one else is seeing her like this, only me.

She moans. “You didn’t have to use the water, Rhode.”

“I know. You’re always so wet for me, but I wanted to.”

I tug her closer because I need her closer. Using my other hand, I roll her nipple between my thumb and index finger, and her whole body vibrates under my touch.

She moans when I bite her neck, sucking until I leave a red mark for everyone to see. My hard dick digs into her ass, and as she arches back against my shoulder, she forgets about the pottery. The clay’s starting to look like a lump, and I wouldn’t be surprised if it flew off the wheel.

I lick the shell of her ear, tugging on one of her piercings while I pick up the pace of my hand, pinching her sensitive skin. “Do any of those other boys make you feel this fucking good?”

I bite her neck, a bit harder than normal, but she can handle me.

Her knees widen, inviting my fingers to dive deeper into her tight pussy. “No. No one makes me feel like this but you.”

“I do hear I give pretty legendary orgasms.” I nip at her neck as I circle her with my middle finger. Harder, then slower.

She lets out a throaty whimper as she soaks my hand, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. “Is this what you want from me?” I ask. “Just to give you orgasms? That’s all?”

I move my fingers in smooth circles, flicking her clit for the hell of it. She jumps.

“Yes, that’s what I want.” Her fingers dig into my thighs like she’s trying not to lose control, but I want her to feel safe enough to let go with me.

“Then open those pretty eyes and watch me fuck your pussy with my fingers. Look in the mirror,” I demand, struggling to keep my voice even as her words stir a wave of irritation in me.

I want to be more than the man who gives her orgasms because this girl’s going to stay with me long after she gets on that plane. “Look at how good you look with my hand inside you. So naughty, letting me finger fuck you in a pottery studio when anyone could walk inside, but I bet you like it, don’t you?”

The wheel’s stopped spinning so there’s nothing to hide our heavy breathing as our gazes connect in the reflection. She’s needy and glowing, and it’s all for me.

Her eyes dip to the way my arm’s pumping into her beneath her paint-splattered apron as I rock my dick against her ass, needing my own release. She’s drenched, and satisfaction fills me because I’m the man who made her this way.

It’s so intimate that I’m tempted to look away from our reflection, but I can’t. She’s caught me.

We look good together.

I don’t seem too old for her. If anything, Nina makes me feel younger, like I’ve still got something to look forward to after hockey, even if I don’t have a family.

I scrape my stubble against her cheek and continue pumping my fingers until her breathless gasps turn to whimpers. I rub faster, then slower, bringing her to that edge while playing with her nipple. She bucks wildly against my hands, and all the blood rushes down my body.

This ending is going to be hell for me too.

“Are you close?” I say in a rough voice.

“Yes, so close,” she groans, throwing her head back into my shoulder. “I’m right there. Don’t stop.”

I can feel her orgasm starting when her inner muscles spasm around my hand, and that’s when I slide my fingers out, leaving her wanting. “Sorry, but that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

She blinks at me in the mirror, slow and confused, like she didn’t hear me. I lift my fingers to my lips. She watches our reflection with rapt attention, and I stare at her as I suck every last drop of her off my hands. I could eat her out for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and never get enough of her taste.

“Why?” She blinks again, brows coming together. “Why did you stop?”

“Because I’m proving to you that I’m not just the man who gives you orgasms. I’m the man you stay up until midnight talking to, so if you want one, you have to admit that.”

Planting a loud kiss on her cheek, I stand from the bench, adjusting my painful erection. I’ve never been this turned on in my life.

Nina’s expression goes from confused to shocked to furious in less than a second. I want to laugh, but I know I’m about to be on the receiving end of that anger.

She lurches for a paintbrush and throws it across the studio at me. “Rhode Augustus Tremblay, you’re such an asshole!”

I duck, but the paintbrush misses me by a long shot. Blue paint splatters all over the doll painting. Personally, I think it’s an improvement. “Has anyone ever told you that you’ve got the aim of a blindfolded elephant?”

“Well, you’ve got the aim of an arrogant asshole.”

I fight a laugh. Not her best comeback, but I’ll cut her some slack since she’s probably having a hard time focusing. “Go ahead. Keep insulting me. It makes me so hard for you.”

She pins me with a venomous stare. “So, you’re just going to torture me?”

I shoot her a dry look, nodding to my erection bulging in my jeans. “This is torture for me too. Trust me. There’s nothing I want more than to bury myself inside you until you’re scratching my back, but I’d rather prove my point.”

She crosses her arms, shifting on the bench like she’s trying to get some relief. “Okay, point proven. You do more than give me orgasms. Can you please finish what you started?”

“No. Not yet. I came here because I wanted to give you something. Not because I wanted to finger fuck you in an art studio.”

“Rhode, please,” she whines. “This is so unfair.”

The way she begs my name has me reconsidering, but I’ll take care of her later. My willpower’s steel. “Welcome to life.”

“You can’t use my own comebacks on me.”

“But they’re so good they deserve to be used twice.”

After adjusting myself, I dig through my gym bag, pulling out the cross-stitch I’ve spent the past month making. My heart’s pounding almost as much as my dick as I hand it to her. Now, I’m thinking one of the stitches looks a little off-center.

I gulp, handing it over. “Here, I made this for you. I wanted to apologize for what I said at the party. I didn’t mean it. If someone’s making you come, it better be me, and only me, but I want you to think of me as more than a man who gets you off.”

She looks down at the cross-stitch, and I watch her reaction. I want to see that smile spread across her lips because this pattern took me a million tries to get right. I’ve got so much extra thread in my garbage. She frowns.

Shit. It’s not that bad, is it? I thought this one turned out better than normal.

She reaches out and strokes the design like it’s made of glass. “It’s a turtle.”

Alright, that’s a good sign. I told Cruz it didn’t look like a rock. “Yeah, but not just any turtle. It’s a snapping turtle.”

Her eyes trace the threaded words I sewed into the pattern. “You can snap if you need to, just don’t break on me.” Her voice goes quiet. “Did your mom make this one?”

I smile big, damn proud of my handiwork. If she thinks my mom made that, it must be good. “No, that was all me. Took me forever too. What do you think?”

I try not to sound too eager, but it’s hard when I’m noting every change in her expression. She doesn’t say anything for a while. A long time, so long that I’m second-guessing every stitch.

Finally, she smiles, but it’s smaller than I want. “Thank you. This is one of the nicest things anyone has ever given me.”

“You like it?”

“Yeah, I love it.” Her throat moves as she eyes the stitched turtle. “I’m sorry too, about what I said. I didn’t mean it, but I was feeling a little anxious at the party, and I took it out on you when I shouldn’t have. Then, I was embarrassed with how I treated you, so I avoided you all week. It’s a bad habit I slip into sometimes, and most people let me push them away. You and Gwen are the only ones who’ve stayed.”

“I didn’t know that,” I say, pressing my lips to the top of her hair. I’m really starting to despise her no-kissing rule, but I’m trying to respect what she wants. “Next time, talk to me. If you’re feeling anxious, tell me what you need, and I’ll give it to you, but don’t pull away. I’ve missed our late-night phone calls.”

I rub the back of my neck, heat prickling in my cheeks. “You’ve uh, kind of become the first person I want to tell everything to. When I got the ¡Vamos! sponsorship, you were the one I wanted to call.”

How can I tell her that I want to lick every inch of her body, but I fucking blush when I say that I like talking to her?

Her eyes widen behind her glasses. “You got the sponsorship?”

“Yeah, I did. I’m not sure if I’m going to take it, but they finally offered me one.”

She leaps from the stool and launches herself at me. Nina wraps her arms around my waist with so much force that I stumble back into some painting. “I’m so happy for you, Rhode. That’s amazing!”

One of my favorite things about her is the way she throws her whole body into a hug. I squeeze her tight against my chest, twisting her in my arms. I think she’s more excited about this sponsorship than I am.

After a moment, she pulls back, but all the happiness seems to have drained from her face. “So that means you’re renewing your contract next year?”

I grimace at the thought of entering my sixteenth hockey season. Sixteen. Yeah, the top players stay in the League for more than twelve years, but the average NHL career only lasts five or six seasons.

I can’t admit this to anyone, but I can say this to her. “I don’t know. I’m not sure hockey’s what I want anymore. I’m thinking about retiring, but I don’t want to let my team down. They need me.”

“It’s a big decision, and I can’t tell you what to do, but I think you really need to think about what you need. Talk to one of your sports therapists or something. You’ve still got a whole life outside of hockey.”

I brush my thumbs around her waist, staring into those stormy eyes of hers. “Yeah, I’m starting to realize that, but I still think I need to renew my contract. I’d feel lost if I didn’t play hockey. What would I do with my life?”

“You could go to the national cross-stitch convention.”

There’s an idea. “Huh, maybe you’re right. It’s always during the season, so I never get the chance.”

“See? You’ve got options.”

“Yeah, but I still feel like my team needs me, so I’ll probably renew if they give me a shot. I hate letting people down.”

“That makes sense…” She lets out a big sigh, like she’s about to face off with whatever she’s about to say. “What are we doing, then? Because I’m leaving in two months, and I don’t want to hold you back from your career when it’s important to you.”

If I were a stronger man, I’d call this off, but I’m weak when it comes to her. We only have two months, so I want to spend them together.

I cradle her cheeks in my hands. “You want to fuck? I’ll fuck you good. You want to eat? I’ll take you out. You want to stay up all night talking? I’ll listen to every word. I’ll do whatever you want as long as I get to be yours until you get on that plane.”

The gold seems to flare in her hazels, but she bites her lip like she’s trying not to speak. Her teeth leave an indent on her skin, and I want to be the one to leave that mark.

Damn her rule.

I’ve waited so long to kiss her that the back of my neck starts sweating every time I think about it now. It’s got to be the best kiss of her life, but I don’t know how much longer I can wait.

I swipe my thumb along her bottom lip, tugging at the soft skin. “I’m starting to hate your rule.”

She gazes up from beneath her eyelashes. “It’s really more of a guideline.”

My back goes rigid. Holy shit. Does that mean I can kiss her now? Her lips part, and I slide my thumb deeper into her warm mouth. She swirls her tongue around my thumb the same way she sucked my dick, and now I’m so hard it hurts.

I need to fucking kiss her.

Leaning closer, I brush my stubble against her cheek. “How hard is this guideline? Think I could break it?”

She releases my thumb with a wet pop. “You could definitely break it. It’s pretty flimsy.”

My pulse quickens at the thought of pressing my lips to hers. It’s like I’m back in high school, and I’m as nervous as hell, but I do my best to cover it up with a stiff smirk. I grip her chin, tilting her head up to mine.

She cocks her head like she’s waiting for me to get my shit together, but I’m worried this will only make me want more of her. Except, I can’t go another second not knowing what it’s like to kiss her, so with a hammering heart, I swipe my tongue along her bottom lip, teasing her. Tasting her. Nina moans against my mouth.

That’s all it takes for me to lose every shred of my self-control.

“Fuck me,” I growl against her lips. “Why’d I wait this long?”

I grip her waist, pushing us back into a table, and a jar of paintbrushes clatters to the floor. She sucks in a gasp, and I take the opportunity to slide my tongue deeper into her hot mouth.

I cup my hand around the back of her neck, pulling her against my body so I feel her warmth pressed against me. She digs her hands into the rim of my jeans like she needs me as close as I need her. Nina wraps her legs around my waist, and our teeth knock together as I suck her tongue.

I’m normally more controlled than this, but all I can focus on is how I’m hungry for more, and she’s the only thing that can satisfy this craving.

She tangles her fingers in my hair, and we start exploring like we’re on a mission to learn everything about each other’s mouths. Nina kisses me back with a ferocity that would be intimidating if I weren’t already unhinged.

We can’t seem to stop.

It’s like neither of us wants this moment to end, but we know it will. Her leg trembles. So does mine. I love that I’m the reason she’s shaking, so I start trying new things to make it happen again.

Pulling.

Sucking.

Biting.

I do that last one a lot.

I’ve never kissed anyone this wildly before. We’re messy and dirty and hell, even a little sloppy, but all of that makes it the best goddamn kiss of my life. I can’t get enough of this girl, and that scares the shit out of me because I have to let her go.

I bet she’s going to fuck me up forever.

We eventually run out of air.

I pull back, panting as I press my forehead to hers. “I’m glad I waited so long to kiss you.”

She frowns. “Why’s that?”

I kiss her again and again and again. “Because I knew once I did, I wouldn’t be able to stop.”

And dammit, I have to stop.