Page 3 of Shattered On Ice

Rook has a sunny disposition and an easygoing optimism that’s always drawn me to him. He wears his emotions on his sleeve and says what he thinks, so you know exactly what’s going on in that head of his. Just one look at Knight tells me there is so much more to be discovered about him. He’s a deep pool of contemplation and a dark wealth of knowledge waiting to be uncovered. He’s a moonlit forest with patches of velvety black secrets. While the unknown is terrifying, I know I want to explore those hidden depths from the intense initial attraction that sprang to life with a single glimpse of him.

Yeah. They couldn’t be more different, despite being twins.

Knight is wearing these slutty, little round tortoiseshell glasses over his sparkling green eyes, and fuck me, he has dimples on both cheeks that appear as he smirks at me while holding out his hand.

“Hi, I’m Knight, the aforementioned shadow. You must be Westin. I’ve heard a lot about you. I can't wait to get to know you better.” Even Knight’s voice is dark, soothing, drawing me in with the quiet, measured way he speaks. I can hear the smile in his tone as I avert my eyes from the dimples in his cheeks. They send my thoughts racing south, wondering if he has a matching set at the base of his spine that would be a perfect fit for my thumbs as I hold his waist and slam my cock into his ass.

Obviously, these are completely inappropriate thoughts to be having about my best friend’s brother the moment I meet him. I realize my own grin matches his as I take his hand. His skin is soft and warm, and his hand fits perfectly in my larger, callused palm. But my thoughts have strayed far from welcoming him to my home and introductions. I’m already buried so deep into his body in my imagination that introductions were left behind ages ago. I should be ashamed at the speed of it.

Forget shame, I can't even speak. What are words? I'm fucking speechless right now, my mouth opening and closing until I hastily let go of his hand and mutter a quick “hello.” I don't think I could say my fucking name right now. Thank fuck he already knew it. I gesture vaguely toward the interior of my house and step out of the way while sneaking another look at his face. It's gorgeous.

What the fuck do I do?

He smiles knowingly—how can he possibly know the effect he has on me—and walks past with a slight brush of his shoulder. Whatever cologne he’s wearing grabs me by the throat and turns my head to follow him as it sinks into my synapses and brands itself onto my brain. I’ll never be able to smell something like it again and think of anything other than this moment when my life was forever altered just by meeting the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.

I don’t even know what happens in the next few minutes, but apparently, I act human enough for my teammates not to question my behavior. Thank fuck it doesn't match the insane thoughts flying through my mind.

I desperately work to breathe and get my bearings. Every time he turns his attention my way and smiles impishly like we’re sharing some secret, I lose my train of thought and have to look away from him so I don't think of another way to fuck his damn dimples. His full lips would look so perfect stretched around my cock, sucking me to the back of his throat. I’d finish right on his face and watch as my cum pooled in the tiny indents in his perfect cheeks.

Oh, fuck me.

Having him here is bad for my sanity and my ability to function normally.

I glance across the living room to where Knight lounges casually in his olive green button-down and gray slacks. I need to know what’s under the refined attire that makes him stick out like a sore thumb compared to the rest of us in shorts and slides. He doesn't fit in, but seems perfectly at ease, anyway.

He even exudes an air of gentility, like he’s more comfortable in his skin than I’ve ever been, and I’m drawn to that casual confidence. My eyes keep gravitating towards his side of the room, where he’s leaning back with one ankle crossed over his other knee, holding a conversation with Knox that has him both animated when he’s speaking and intensely focused when he’s listening to whatever Knox is saying, his chin propped on his fist.

I want whatever he has.

His quiet confidence. His beauty. His ability to make the person he’s focused on feel like they’re the only person around.

I want him.

I know that’s fucking foolish. There’s no way I can have him. He’s Rook’s brother. Yet, my brain is stuck on a kernel of hope because I know, logically, there’s a shot he could be interested in me. Rook has mentioned he’s queer, so if he likes big jocks with more brawn than sense, I could be lucky enough to have his attention.

I scoff at myself for even thinking that. He’s still my best friend’s brother, which is a non-starter.

An abrupt commotion breaks into my inappropriate contemplation, saving me from the thoughts I shouldn’t be having.

“Get your fucking hands off, that’s my wing!” Rook shouts, diving after Nico, who has swiped the last chicken wing off Rook’s plate with a devious giggle and is about to shove it in his mouth. Rook grabs his arm, and a tussle begins that has Ryder and Chad hooting in glee at the spectacle. Campbell glowers over them from his side of the room and then goes back to scrolling on his phone. He hasn’t engaged much with the group, but Nico and Chad have both gotten him chatting at different times.

Nico squeals with laughter as he tries to hold the wing out of Rook’s reach, but Rook tackles him to the floor, and they begin wrestling for the damn chicken wing. I glance at the table where a plate is still covered in wings and shake my head. Of course, they would fight over a wing when more are available. It’s the idea that what you’re not supposed to have is better than what’s available.

Well, fuck me, that’s my problem, isn’t it? I covertly cast a look at Knight before dragging my attention away again.

“Fucking idiots,” Campbell grumbles, trying and failing to move out of the way as Nico shoves Rook toward the chair he’s sitting on.

Rook falls against Campbell’s legs. Campbell halfheartedly kicks Rook back at Nico, where they resume their contest for the chicken wing that has managed to stay held aloft by Nico during their squirmish.

“Ah, Campbell, don’t be such a grouch. You just need a hug,” Chad says with a laugh as he dives in and wraps his arms around Campbell’s shoulders from behind. Campbell turns a vivid shade of red and looks like he’s about to pummel Chad’s face. It wouldn't be out of the realm of possibilities, given Campbell’s penchant for starting fights on the ice and racking up more penalty minutes this season than the rest of the team combined.

“Get the fuck off me, or I’ll kick you in the balls next,” Campbell threatens, pushing on Chad’s vise-like grip.

Rook and Nico abandon their fight over the wing to watch the interaction between Campbell and Chad with fascination.

Chad hugs him harder and plants a loud kiss on his scarlet cheek before Campbell can free himself. He turns and brings his knee up into Chad’s crotch, then pushes him onto the ground. He stands and leaves the room with his shoulders hiked to his ears, and his hands balled at his sides. Chad lets out a grunt of pain and rolls to his side, still wearing an evil grin.

“Worth it to get the big fuck to lose his shit,” Chad wheezes out, cupping his balls as he stays in the fetal position, recovering. “At least it wasn’t Davy dropping me with a hit to the balls. That big Russian has it out for my nuts.”