Chapter 16 #2
I catch myself staring more than once. The way his jaw flexes when he’s focused, how the pale winter light cuts across his cheekbones—he looks like he belongs in one of those gritty magazine spreads, the kind that makes people forget hockey’s supposed to be brutal.
He’s sharp lines and quiet fire, every movement deliberate.
“Stop staring, Lee,” Phoenix mutters, not even glancing at me. “You’re gonna make me drive us into a snowbank.”
I grin, leaning back. “You’d never let that happen. You’re too controlling.”
“Damn right,” he says, no hesitation.
We pull up on a gravel road tucked between large patches of trees.
The cabin is cute. There’s no other word for it.
A wraparound porch, soft light spilling from the windows, snow piled thick on the roof like it’s been waiting for us.
It’s so different from the locker rooms, the cold rinks, the constant noise of teammates.
Inside, it smells faintly of cedar and something warm, like someone baked cookies here earlier. The living room has a stone fireplace already set with a fire, and thick wool blankets are draped over the couch.
“Damn,” I say, kicking my boots off. “You really went all out.”
Phoenix drops our bags near the door, shrugs like it’s nothing. “Only the best for you.”
It shouldn’t make my chest ache the way it does, but it does.
We wander through the cabin, checking out the bedrooms and the kitchen, until Phoenix tugs me toward the back door.
He slides it open, and steam hits my face immediately—there’s a hot tub on the patio, bubbling under fairy lights strung overhead.
Beyond it, the snow is untouched, glowing gold under the lights.
“Tell me that’s not perfect,” he says, smug.
I laugh. “Yeah, it’s perfect.”
He smirks, pulling me close by the waist. “So. How long before you strip and get in?”
I shove at his chest, heat rushing to my face. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Prude,” he fires back, already nipping at my jaw.
Phoenix doesn’t let the hot tub go.
All through dinner—steak searing in the pan, potatoes roasting in the oven, a bottle of red wine cracked open just because he insists—it’s like he’s circling the idea, dropping comments with that sharp grin that makes me sweat.
“Bet you’ll last ten minutes out there before you’re begging me to warm you up.”
“You know steam makes you lightheaded, right? What if you fall in my lap?”
“Wonder how long it’d take for the neighbors to call if you start screaming my name.”
Each one lands heavier than the last, heat curling in my gut. He does it casually, like it’s no effort, like teasing me is just as natural as breathing. And maybe it is.
By the time we’ve killed half the bottle, my face is hot, my muscles loose, and I’m too far gone to care that he’s watching me with that predator’s patience.
We clean up, bumping shoulders in the kitchen. His hand keeps finding my hip, tugging me out of the way, brushing lower than necessary. When he kisses my neck, I almost drop a plate.
“Hot tub,” he whispers, lips ghosting over my skin, hands tearing at my clothes.
The cold hits me first. Stepping onto the patio in just my briefs, snow crunching under my feet, makes every nerve in my body shriek. But then I sink into the bubbling water and it is heaven. Heat envelops me, steam curling around my face, snow falling so soft it looks unreal.
Phoenix follows, sliding in across from me.
His shoulders gleam under the lights, muscles carved and sharp, his hair damp from the flakes landing in it.
He looks like trouble personified. We pour more wine into plastic cups he found in the cabinet, and it doesn’t take long for the alcohol and heat to loosen my tongue.
The wine sneaks up on me.
I’m not drunk, not really. Just warm. Heavy. The kind of buzz that makes your limbs lazy and your mouth too quick.
I lean back against the ledge, staring up at the snow falling through the soft patio lights. “This is… surreal.”
Phoenix sprawls across from me in the hot tub, looking unfair in the steam—jaw sharp, shoulders broad, skin glowing where the water beads on it.
His hand cradles his cup like he isn’t already five cups in.
He doesn’t slur, doesn’t wobble. He just watches me, steady as ever, like he’s stone compared to me.
“What?”
“Us. Here. Cabin in the mountains, wine, hot tub. Feels like we stole it.”
He smirks. “We did. Well, rented it. Which is basically stealing for the weekend.”
I laugh, shaking my head. The steam curls around us, muffling the world. It feels private in a way I don’t usually trust things to feel. That’s what makes my tongue slip.
“You know I used to think… I’d never get out of my old house alive.”
His eyes sharpen immediately. He doesn’t move, doesn’t press, but I feel the shift like static.
“Your old man,” he says. Not a question.
“Yeah.” My chest aches saying it, but the wine and the water make it easier. “He’d lose it over nothing. Dishes not done. Game on too loud. Shit, me breathing wrong. Didn’t matter if I was a kid or not. He’d… you know.” My hand drifts to my ribs unconsciously, where a scar is carved deep.
Phoenix’s jaw locks as his eyes glance at my hand’s placement. “You’ll never have to see him again. And if he ever goes near you, I’ll kill him. No question.”
I swallow hard. I’ve never heard someone say that and mean it. A sort of elation rushes through me. Is that fucked up? To get turned on by the thought of your boyfriend killing your abusive father? It must be the wine.
I continue. “Silas… he’s the reason I ever got out. He pulled me out the day I turned eighteen. Said we were done being afraid. He worked doubles just to cover rent for a shitty one-bedroom place. We had nothing, but I’d never felt richer.”
The silence stretches, heavy but not cruel. Steam thickens between us. Finally, Phoenix nods once, deliberate. “Then I respect him. Whatever else, I respect him for that.”
It hits me harder than I expect. After everything—Silas punching him, hating him—Phoenix still says it.
“You do?” I ask, voice cracking.
“Yeah.” He leans closer, resting his elbows on his knees. “Doesn’t erase how he talks to you now. Doesn’t mean I won’t break his jaw if he keeps it up. But he saved you. I owe him for that.”
My throat burns. I mutter, “Thank you.”
Phoenix lets me sit in the softness for a while, letting the snow and soft music fill the air between us.
Then, he tips his cup back, sets it down, and smirks. “Now, let’s move on to some lighter conversation.”
Oh, fuck, I know that smirk. He’s drunk and wants to play.
He shifts closer to me, our knees knocking under the hot water. “Tell me the truth. First time we met—you wanted me.”
I laugh, startled. “I hated you.”
“Bullshit.”
“Wanted to punch you.”
“You wanted to fuck me.”
I choke on my drink, sputtering. He grins wider.
“You couldn’t stop looking, rookie. You think I didn’t notice? Every drill, every shift—you were burning holes in me.”
“You were staring first!”
“Yeah. ‘Cause I wanted you. From day one.”
The air thickens between us. My chest is too tight, my skin too hot. His hand finds my jaw, thumb dragging over my lip, and suddenly I can’t breathe.
“Admit it,” he murmurs.
I don’t. I can’t. But my body betrays me when I surge forward and kiss him.
It’s filthy from the start: the wine, the steam, the hours of playful tension. Everything combusts.
Our mouths crash together, teeth clashing, tongues desperate. He tastes like red wine, salt, and him. My hands claw at his shoulders, nails digging into muscle as if I can anchor myself.
“Fuck,” he growls into my mouth, hauling me into his lap. The water splashes up, sloshing over the sides, but neither of us cares. His cock is hard against my thighs, trapped in his briefs, grinding into mine until I gasp into the kiss.
His tongue claims my mouth like it has something to hide. He pulls down my briefs so he can palm my dick, making me groan.
“I need to ruin you,” he says, biting my lip.
“Do it.”
Something snaps in him. He flips me, pressing my chest to the slick ledge of the tub, water lapping around my waist. His mouth crashes down on the back of my neck, sucking, biting, marking. His hands grip my ass, spreading me apart until the cold air stings.
And then—fuck.
His tongue.
I jerk forward, almost cracking my teeth on the ledge. “Phoenix—shit—”
He groans into me, eating me out like he’s starved. Obsessive. Aggressive. His tongue pushes deep, fucking me open, while his hands squeeze bruises into my thighs. I can’t stop the sounds tearing out of me, high and shameless.
“God—you’re—fuck—”
He doesn’t stop. Not even when I’m clawing the wood, when I’m sobbing his name into the night air.
He eats like a man possessed, sloppy and raw, teeth grazing, tongue relentless.
His callused hand wraps around my shaft, making me gasp in the freezing air.
The wine has me dizzy, the heat of the water and the cold on my back overwhelming until I feel like I’m coming apart.
“Phoenix—I can’t—”
He pulls back just long enough to rasp, “Yes, you can. Take it for me.”
And then he’s back, devouring me, groaning like I’m his last meal. I feel myself tighten, spasm, almost lose it from his mouth alone.
When he finally pulls away, I’m trembling. He shoves his trunks down, grabs my hips, and thrusts in one brutal push.
“Fuck!” I cry, head slamming forward.
“Yeah,” he snarls, burying himself to the hilt. “That’s it. Mine.”
The water rocks violently as he pounds into me. Hard, fast, merciless. His chest presses to my back, his teeth scrape my ear, his hand around my throat, pulling me upright.
“You feel that?” he growls, thrusts sharp and punishing. “That’s me, deep in you. No one else gets this. No one.”
I can’t answer. I’m choking on my own moans, on the wet slap of our bodies, on the steam fogging everything around us. He’s unhinged, fucking me like he wants to brand me from the inside out.
“Say it,” he demands, yanking my head back. “Say you’re mine.”
“I’m—Shit, Nix—I’m yours!”
His growl vibrates through me. He thrusts harder, deeper, almost cruel in his need. My hands slip against the wet wood, nails breaking as I claw for purchase. My cock drags against the ledge, leaking, throbbing, every nerve ending burning.
“Phoenix—gonna—”
“Come for me.” His voice is raw, ragged. “Make a mess.”
And I do. Violently. My vision whites out as I spill against the ledge, muscles clenching around him.
He groans, shoving deep one last time before he follows, filling me with a heat that makes me shudder. We collapse against the side, panting, steam curling around us, snow still falling soft and innocent in the night. The hot tub water sloshes, filthy with us, but I don’t care.
“Yeah, our house needs a hot tub.” Phoenix presses his face to my neck, still holding me so tight I couldn’t escape if I wanted to.