Off the Ice

The morning sun hit the penthouse like a spotlight, reflecting blindingly off the polished marble floors.

Liam woke up with a sharp jolt, his muscles stiff from the uncompromising frame of the leather sofa. For a terrifying three seconds, he didn't know where he was. Then, the heavy scent of cedar wood and expensive cologne anchored him. He was still wrapped tightly in Jaxson’s velvet duvet.

He threw the blanket off like it had suddenly caught fire. Standing up, he stretched his aching back, his stomach letting out another loud, demanding rumble.

Before he could even check his phone, the heavy master bedroom door swung open.

Jaxson stepped out, completely dressed in a sharp, tailored black suit that made his broad shoulders look impossibly wide. His dark hair was styled back perfectly, and he was buttoning his cuffs with a cold, focused precision. He didn't look like a rough hockey player anymore; he looked like a high-profile executive.

He didn't even glance at Liam as he walked into the kitchen, grabbing a protein shake from the fridge. "Get dressed, pixie. Sarah just texted. The circus is officially in town."

"What are you talking about?" Liam asked, his voice rough with sleep as he smoothed down his messy hair.

"Paparazzi," Jaxson said flatly, taking a sip of his shake. "They’ve been staked out across the street since six in the morning. We have to leave for the arena together. There’s a café two blocks away. We’re going to walk there, buy coffee, and look like a happy, regular couple before morning practice."

Liam’s chest tightened. "Already? We signed the papers less than twenty-four hours ago."

"Welcome to the big leagues," Jaxson scoffed, finally turning his dark eyes to look at Liam. His gaze swept down Liam’s wrinkled, oversized gray hoodie and bare legs, his eyebrows pulling together in a sharp frown. "And change out of that. You look like a stiff breeze could blow you over. Put on something that actually fits you."

Liam’s jaw clenched. "This is my comfortable clothes, Thorne. I don't exactly have a multimillion-dollar wardrobe budget."

"Just... go fix yourself," Jaxson muttered, turning around to check his phone.

Ten minutes later, Liam emerged from the bathroom wearing his best black slim-fit jeans and a high-necked cream sweater. It wasn't expensive, but it hugged his lean, athletic frame in a way that emphasized his long lines and dancer’s posture.

When he walked back into the living room, Jaxson was waiting by the door. The captain looked up from his phone, and for a split second, his fingers froze over the screen. His dark eyes tracked Liam from his boots all the way up to his face, his expression turning oddly tense. He swallowed hard, his throat moving against his crisp white collar, before his usual arrogant mask slid back into place.

"Better," Jaxson muttered, grabbing his coat. "Let's go. Remember the rules. We don't talk unless we have to, but when we get past those lobby doors, you keep close to me. If they ask questions, let me do the talking."

"Don't worry," Liam said, his voice dripping with venom. "I have zero desire to pretend I enjoy your company a second longer than necessary."

The elevator ride down to the lobby was dead silent, the air between them thick with a volatile, defensive energy. Both of them were straight. Both of them liked women. Yet, being trapped in a moving metal box with another man while preparing to tell the world they were sleeping together felt completely overwhelming.

The moment the glass lobby doors slid open, a wall of blinding light hit them.

"Jaxson! Over here!"

"Thorne! Is it true? Are you and the new coach together?"

"Liam! Look this way!"

A dozen paparazzi surged forward from behind the metal barricades, their heavy camera lenses clicking rapidly like a swarm of digital insects. The bright flashes exploded in Liam’s vision, making his eyes water. He instinctively flinched, stepping back. He had been in front of sports judges before, but he had never faced a ravenous media mob.

Before he could lose his footing, a massive, heavy hand locked firmly onto the small of his back.

Liam gasped softly as Jaxson stepped into his space, his massive body completely shielding Liam from the aggressive crowd. The heat from Jaxson’s palm burned straight through the fabric of Liam's cream sweater, his long fingers splaying over Liam's lower back with a heavy, possessive grip.

"Keep walking," Jaxson muttered directly into Liam’s ear. His deep voice vibrated against Liam’s cheek, sending a sudden, chaotic jolt of electricity straight down Liam’s spine. "Don't look at them. Look at me."

Liam forced his eyes up, locking his gaze onto Jaxson’s sharp jawline. To the cameras, it looked like a breathless, enamored gaze. In reality, Liam was trying to ground himself against the sheer panic of the crowd.

Jaxson flashed a charming, easy smile at the cameras, completely playing the part of the doting boyfriend. He guided Liam down the sidewalk with a steady, unyielding pressure, his hand never leaving Liam’s waist.

"Jaxson! Is the relationship serious?" a reporter yelled, shoving a microphone over the barrier.

Jaxson stopped for a fraction of a second, his grip tightening on Liam, pulling the smaller man tightly against his side until their hips brushed. The sudden, intimate contact made Liam’s breath catch in his throat.

"We’re just trying to focus on our sports, guys," Jaxson said, his voice smooth and perfectly rehearsed. "But yeah. He’s the best thing that’s happened to me this season. Now give us some space, please."

A collective gasp went up from the reporters as Jaxson guided Liam into the quiet sanctuary of the corner café, the heavy glass door cutting off the chaotic noise of the street.

The moment the door shut, Liam violently wrenched himself out of Jaxson's grip. He stumbled back a step, his chest heaving as he stared at the captain, his heart pounding erratically against his ribs.

Jaxson let his hand drop to his side, his fingers flexing slightly as if he could still feel the curve of Liam’s waist. His smirk was completely gone, replaced by a dark, intense look as he stared at Liam’s flushed cheeks and parted lips.

"You can let go of me now," Liam hissed, his voice trembling slightly with an emotion he couldn't quite define. "The cameras are outside. We're indoors."

Jaxson stepped closer, his shadow completely swallowing Liam up against the café counter. His eyes narrowed, a strange, dangerous heat flickering in the dark depths of his gaze.

"I was just doing my job, pixie," Jaxson whispered, his deep voice dropping to a low, rough register that made Liam’s stomach flip. He leaned in just an inch closer, his scent wrapping around Liam completely. "But you might want to get used to it. Because for the next six months, my hands are going to be all over you."