Icebreaker: A Novel (The Maple Hills Series Book 1)
Icebreaker: Chapter 47

THERE’S BEEN a weird ache in my chest since I arrived home and it won’t go away.

It might be pre-competition nerves. I don’t think anyone would blame me, considering tomorrow is the biggest thing I’ve ever faced. The Olympics aren’t for another two years, but there are so many other international competitions I can compete at. It’s how I show Team USA what I’m capable of, what I can offer, what we offer.

All the heartache it took to be ready for this weekend needs to mean something.

It has to be worth it.

Sabrina knows to leave me alone when I’m like this, there is nothing she can say or do that’s going to make me feel better, and I’d rather be alone with my thoughts, anyway. I’ve ticked off everything on my iPad, showered, settled down in bed with my favorite Titans T-shirt on, and that should be enough, but it just…isn’t.

The T-shirt is fresh out of the machine, so it smells strongly of detergent. It’s a smell I’ve always loved; the smell of clean washing means I’ve done my laundry, which means I’ve ticked something as complete in my planner. But for some reason, the smell is adding to the ache.

It doesn’t smell like Nathan anymore.

And just like that, my bed feels overwhelmingly empty, and the T-shirt itches my skin.

I understand Dr. Robeska’s logic in me moving back into the apartment. She felt that my and Aaron’s relationship would recover quicker if we had this time together at home, like we used to. When we talked about the things we did together outside of skating, it was clear we both had a good time hanging out together.

We needed to get back in sync, and aside from Aaron’s tantrum on the ice, it has worked. I wanted to move back, too, which I told Nate before Robeska brought it up. I was worried that Nathan and I could only work being in each other’s company constantly and that as soon as his NHL career starts, I wouldn’t be able to offer him the support he needs, which would drive us apart.

But I’m not happy here and I miss my boys.

One boy in particular.

After a few rings, I worry he’s not going to answer my call, that he’s busy with his friends or got his phone on study mode, but right before the line disconnects his face fills my screen. “Sorry, my phone was charging next to my bed. Is everything all right?” he says warily, the little crease in between his eyebrows deepening when he looks at his screen.

“The clothes I stole from you don’t smell like you anymore.”

“…Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“A bad thing. A horrible, terrible, catastrophically bad thing. I miss you and it’s making me unsettled.”

“Baby, you just saw me, please don’t feel unsettled. What do you need me to do?”

“Can you stay here tonight? I know you don’t want to be around Aaron, but he’ll be in his room, and we will be in mine,” I ramble off quickly. “You won’t see him. I just need you, Nate. I need you to do that thing you do where you magically make everything better.”

The corner of his mouth quirks into my favorite sort of smile. It’s the smile I get when I’ve taken him by surprise but in a good way. It doesn’t happen very often because he knows me so well; it’s difficult to take him by surprise, but that makes it feel extra special when it does happen. “I, uh, I dunno how I do that, but I’m leaving right now. Do you want me to get you anything on the way?”

I shake my head, watching him spring up from his bed and grab an overnight bag. “No, bub. Just you. You’re all I need.”

I CAN’T CONCENTRATE on the book I’m supposed to be reading.

I read a paragraph or two, then my eyes immediately revert back to the moving dot on the map on my screen. I can’t work out if it’s cute or pathetic how excited I am to see his car pulling into the parking garage of my building.

I’m hanging around our front door like an excited puppy, listening for the signature ding of the elevator—while being fully judged by Sabrina, who’s on the couch watching Hamilton for the tenth time this week. He doesn’t even get to finish his knock before I’m pulling the door open and dragging him inside.

“Hi.” He chuckles when I wrap my arms around his torso, inhaling deeply.

“You smell so fucking good,” I mumble into his chest. Tightening his arms around me, he buries his head into my hair and kisses the crown of my head.

“As hot as I’m sure you two look fucking, can you not do it right in front of me? You have a room right there, and I’m trying to get my revolutionary war on over here,” Brin shouts from the living room.

I drag Nate toward my bedroom before Aaron comes out of his room to investigate the shouting and the source of the booming laugh that echoes around the apartment when Sabrina gives Nathan the middle finger for telling her to stop being a pervert.

That ache in my chest is getting easier to deal with every second that passes, every second that I can feel him beneath my fingertips. His finger hooks under my chin, tilting my face to his. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I had this ache in my chest that wouldn’t go away. I’m sorry to drag you back here, but selfishly, having you close makes me feel better. Am I clingy?”

He shakes his head, gently threading his fingers through my hair and pressing a kiss to my forehead. “There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do to make you feel better, Anastasia. I’m not sure how I’m supposed to get my smell on you, though…” Kicking off his sneakers, he climbs onto my bed, and I watch him fight with all my pillows until he’s comfortable. I climb into his lap, resting my legs on either side of his.

“Hold your arms up,” I tell him, fiddling with the hem of the T-shirt he’s wearing. He does as I ask, sitting forward slightly and holding his arms above his head so I can pull the T-shirt off. He leans back against the pillows, letting me trail my fingers across the smooth, warm planes of his stomach, all the way down to his sweatpants.

Gray, obviously, because Nathan Hawkins is a man who was most definitely written by a woman.

His hands move quickly to grip my wrists, pulling them up into the air. “Your turn, Allen.”

I keep my arms in the air as he bunches the bottom of the T-shirt and pulls it off my body. My nipples pebble under the heat of his glare, and when he licks his lips and runs his hands up the front of my thighs, goose bumps spread across every inch of me.

The anticipation is suffocating; his hands travel over my hips, past my waist, settling just below my breasts. Nathan has seen me naked countless times, but right now, I’ve never felt more exposed.

“You are perfect,” he whispers, sitting up to kiss the valley between my breasts. I’m practically panting when his tongue flicks against my hard nipple and he hums happily, sucking it into his mouth. My hands grip his shoulders, and my head falls back as he swaps to my other breast, paying it an equal amount of attention. He licks and kisses his way up my neck, groaning when I grind against him, and when he reaches my mouth, I’m about ready to combust.

“I want you so badly.”

His laugh is dark, and his eyes are gleaming. “Ask me nicely.”

“Nathan…” I moan impatiently.

“That’s a good start, what else? Tell me what you want, baby.”

My body is rocking against his in a desperate search for friction, just something that will soothe the ache between my legs, so it’s pretty freaking clear what I want. His arm wraps around the bottom of my back, holding me close to him as he flips us over so I’m on my back. If I could only have one memory for the rest of my life, it’d be Nate kneeling between my open legs. His body is strong and hard, but his skin is soft and smooth. He doesn’t even blink as he looks down at me, drunk on lust.

“I want your mouth.”

“Where do you want my mouth?”

I trail my finger down the front of my panties, feeling the warmth and how wet they are already. His eyes follow my hand, lips tugging into a smug smirk.

“You’ve gotta say the words.”

All the blood in my body rushes to my face. I chew on the inside of my cheek, watching him watch me. His hands are massaging my calves, so he’s clearly in no rush to give me what I want. My chest is heaving, needy and impatient. “I want your mouth on my pussy.”

He takes each side of my underwear in his hands and shimmies them off, pushing my legs wide and settling between them. Apparently, the time for teasing is over because he doesn’t hesitate to bury his head and devour me. He’s got me squirming within seconds, desperate for more but overwhelmed by how fucking good it feels.

“You like that?” he coos, knowing full well the answer is yes. My hands sink into his hair, tugging him closer, pushing him away, holding him in place, using him as an anchor to keep me on this bed.

“Nate,” I cry, not quite sure what I’m crying for.

“I know, baby, I know it’s good.” He slips a finger inside of me, then another, curling them around, and I’m almost there. “You gonna come for me?”

My legs are shaking, and I’m floating as my entire body starts to spasm. “Nathan…Oh fuck…”

He leaves me dazed and breathless on the bed, while he climbs off and lets his boxers and sweatpants drop to the floor. Nathan’s hands wrap around my naked thighs and tug me to the edge of the bed, navigating my ankles to rest on his shoulders. He takes the base of his dick in a tight grip, running the tip between my folds.

“Such a good girl,” he says proudly, pushing the tip inside. “Jesus Christ, stop squeezing or this is going to be over in thirty seconds.”

Digging his fingers into the front of my thighs to keep me in place, he sinks himself fully inside me.

“Stop calling me a good girl and I’ll stop squeezing,” I shoot back. This relationship works so well because Nathan fucking loves praising me, and I love being praised. He’s gentle with me at first, slow, deep strokes that have my toes curling, but then his hand moves from my thigh, and he pairs harder thrusts with his thumb on my clit. “You’re too good at this.” I gasp, reaching out to try to touch him, but he’s too far out of my reach.

He guides my legs from his shoulders to his hips and tugs me up, carrying me over to my bedroom door, pressing me into it. “That better? You can reach me now.” He smiles, kissing and nibbling along my jawline.

I cling to him, using every last shred of energy as my body takes him over and over. The building starts in my stomach, intensifying as Nate moans and whispers praise after praise next to my ear, and my nails sink into the strained muscles of his back. His thrusts get rougher and his hands tighten on the back of my thighs. And when it can’t get any tighter, the coil in my stomach bursts, sending every nerve in my body into chaos. A few more powerful thrusts and he’s right there with me, grunting a string of undecipherable curse words into the base of my throat. “God, I love you.”

I brush the hair sticking to my damp forehead away and cup his face between my hands. “Uh-huh,” I say with a shaky breath. “I love you too.”