Icebound: Chapter 8

I see why people call Rhode Tremblay the Wall of Steel. On quivering legs, I follow him out to the front porch.

Rhode slams the metal door to Gwen’s brownstone, irritation ricocheting off his muscular frame. The force is strong enough to shake the icicles dangling precariously from the ledge. It’s such a drastic difference that I shiver.

The biting wind nips at my cheeks, but it’s soothing after the intensity in the kitchen burned me to my core. I have to squeeze my legs together every time I think about him circling me with his hips to stop the arousal pooling in my body.

Normally, it takes me a while to relax in the bedroom if I don’t know someone, but Rhode’s playfully dominant demeanor put me at ease. He took control, which allowed me to let go.

That never happens.

Now, I’m imagining him on top of me, pinning me down with his massive body as he thrusts into me with that lazy smile, but I doubt Rhode will touch me again based on the way he’s dramatically dry heaving on the steps.

“You’re twenty-two?” He whirls around so fast he nearly slips on the ice but catches himself with quick reflexes. “Twenty-two? I take it you’re not a doctor unless you’re some child genius?”

I cross my arms. “How do you know I’m not a child genius?”

“Answer the question, Nina.”

His intimidating glare is strong enough to shrink someone, but my shoulders are iron. “No. I’m not a doctor, but the genius part’s debatable. I’m a very dedicated art student who’s pursuing a pottery fellowship in Argentina, and yes, I’m twenty-two, which is why I turned you down because I figured this”—I wave an arm at him—“would be the reaction.”

His hands clench into fists, which pulls my focus to the veins bulging in his forearms. “Why didn’t you tell me? Were you trying to get me to sleep with you or something?”

I yank my eyes up to Rhode’s scowl, standing tall under his brooding gaze. “Yes, Rhode. I spent that first day we met stalking you from my car… No. I don’t even watch hockey. You’re the one who pursued me, remember? I tried to end things.”

He relaxes. “Good point, but you still should’ve told me.”

I don’t care if he’s some famous hockey player, I won’t make myself smaller for anyone again. “Do you realize how hard it is to admit that I’m just a college student to a successful hockey player? I drive Lyft to earn what you probably make in two seconds, and I was embarrassed by the whole Gwen and Isaac thing, but I shouldn’t have lied. I’m sorry for that.”

He grunts. “You don’t need to be embarrassed about any of that. They’re the assholes.”

“Don’t call my sister an asshole,” I snap.

His brows soar to his hairline. “That’s a strong reaction. You’re really defending her after what just happened?”

“Of course.” I puff a foggy breath. “She’s my sister. Only I’m allowed to call her an asshole, and believe me, I do. Hourly.”

While I want to kill Gwen, if anyone else tried to hurt her, they’d end up with their eyes gouged from their sockets. Not really, but even when I hate her, I’d still go to war for my sister because she’s my sister.

“Alright, sorry, I won’t.” He holds up his hands. “But for the record, I still think that guy’s a dick for what he did to you.”

The warmth of his support wraps around me, but I try not to let his comfort sink into my bones. “You and me both, but Isaac doesn’t matter. He’s like a fly buzzing around my life that I can’t swat away.”

Rhode releases a strangled groan like he’s being tortured. “Why didn’t you just lead with the age thing, though? It would’ve stopped this in a second. Look, I’m sorry for everything that happened in there because I’m way too old for you.” He runs his hands through his dark hair. “Is this illegal? It feels illegal.”

I ball my fists like that’ll stop me from wanting to tug his hair. “Stop, Rhode. This isn’t illegal, and don’t act like you’re so much older. You’re only thirty-three. Have you seen yourself on the ice? I watched one quarter, or wait, period, and you’re just as good as all the other guys.”

A flicker of emotion passes over his face, but he shutters his expression. “Thanks, but it still doesn’t change the fact that when I was twenty-one, you were… Holy shit, you were nine. I’m going to be sick.”

“I was ten.”

He gags.

The gorgeous Wall of Steel actually gags.

I roll my eyes. “Okay, you don’t need to be so overdramatic about this.”

“Overdramatic?” He puts his hands on his hips like he’s scolding me. “I’m being reasonable. You’re my sister’s age, Nina. I shouldn’t have let what happened in the kitchen happen. Sorry. I’ll take full responsibility.”

“What if I want to take all the responsibility?” I swipe my tongue along my bottom lip, and he looks away, taking in a long breath.

“It doesn’t matter. It was still a mistake.”

A mistake.

I bristle in the cool air. That’s what Isaac would murmur in my ear during our late-night meetings in his office when he was my TA. As an Art major, physics was my downfall, but Isaac and I used to huddle over textbooks, with our noses almost touching.

Every lingering glance had me yearning for lasting stares. The recklessness of it all made it addicting, but our secret rendezvous was painted in toxic mistakes.

I mistakenly trusted him.

He mistakenly thought I was fragile.

Secrets are fun, but they’re destined to be kept, never shared, and I refuse to be caged by a relationship. I want someone who loves me so much that they shout about my successes in the grocery store checkout line while ringing up avocados.

“Don’t call what happened a mistake,” I say, releasing my bottom lip. “I liked it… a lot. You sure know what you’re doing.”

He clasps his hands behind his neck, looking up at the sky like he’s begging the blue to swallow him. “That’s it. I’m going to hell for dry humping a teenager.”

He moans, and the rumble brings an entirely new wave of memories to the surface. Yes, I’m angry with Gwen. That seems to be my permanent state. Except those feelings pale in comparison to the electricity of Rhode’s solid muscles pressed against mine.

I see why so many women talk about him online, and honestly, being chained to his headboard doesn’t sound so bad. Now, I’m rethinking my No Distractions rule this semester. It’s been a while since I’ve had a good, toe-curling orgasm. For me, orgasms are about as common as a coin flip.

I twist a strand of hair around my finger like the movement will wind up my growing feelings. “Okay, first of all, I’m not a teenager, I’m legal, so don’t call me that. Secondly, it didn’t seem like you were going to be sick when you had me spread out on the kitchen counter looking at me like you wanted to rip my clothes off. It seemed like you liked that just as much as I did.”

A million different thoughts seem to flicker through Rhode’s expression. His eyes travel down my body, but his jaw clenches. “I’m not going to lie because that wouldn’t be fair to either of us. I did like that, obviously.”

He gestures to his crotch, but neither of us looks down. I don’t need to because the woman walking that toy poodle across the street can probably see he’s still hard.

“But we’re in different places in life. I’m not looking for something casual, Nina.”

I rear back. “You’re not? But what about all the articles?”

He looks at his feet, and something about the motion has guilt tingling up my spine. Maybe I shouldn’t have believed everything online.

“Those were from years ago,” he admits. “That’s not what I want anymore. I want something real. Kids. A family. I’m ready to propose to someone, and you should be out getting drunk, sleeping with strangers, and partying through your twenties.”

“It’s kind of narrow-minded that you think that’s what all twenty-two-year-olds do. Not everyone sets a yacht on fire while having a threesome in their twenties, Rhode. In fact, I’d say that’s the minority.”

He waves a hand. “Alright, fine, do yoga, drink iced coffee, study. I don’t care, but I can’t date you for real. The guys will give me so much shit.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t care about what other people think.”

“Maybe you should call me in ten years.” He flinches, backtracking. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Why do you care so much about my age?

”

He glances away like he doesn’t want me seeing whatever’s on his face. “I just do, but it’s mostly that we’re in different places. Are you ready to get married and have kids?”

“No. I’m only twenty-two.”

He flicks a hand. “See? That’s why.”

His words pierce through me, but I don’t budge even though Rhode’s right. We’re in different life stages, and it doesn’t matter that dry humping him on the kitchen counter was better than eighty percent of the sex I’ve experienced.

Okay, ninety.

I don’t want to be tethered to a professional athlete in the spotlight, spending all my weekends in a crowded stadium. I need at least four hours of alone time to function in public.

He needs someone who can drop their plans to fly across the country, and I didn’t spend three years working on myself to be tied down by someone else’s life.

A chill shivers down my spine. Rhode’s gaze drops to my chattering teeth. The frost in his eyes seems to melt, and he removes his beanie with a heavy sigh before handing it to me. “Here. Wear this.”

Taking it, I peer at the stitching inside that looks like handwriting. May all of your dreams be as wild as you. Smiling, I run my finger over the letters. The warmth from his skin still clings to the fabric, but all that does is remind me of the heat of his body.

He scrapes a hand over his stubbled jaw. “Look, I like you, Nina. You’re a great uh, girl, but this isn’t going to work. We’ll do the ¡Vamos! event—”

“What?” My jaw drops. “You still want me to go to that event with you? That’s a bold ask. Am I going to have to pretend to be a neurosurgeon?”

“No. I’d never ask you to pretend to be someone you’re not.

”

“I thought you said everyone would give you ‘so much shit’ for being with a twenty-two-year-old?”

“Yeah, but it’s not like anyone there knows how old you are.”

“What do I get out of it?”

“I don’t know…” He presses the heels of his palms to his eyes. “I can pretend to date you to make your ex jealous or something?”

“Hell no,” I scoff. “I was fine pretending for a second, but keeping it going gives Isaac way too much power over my life. I’m happy I don’t have to fake-laugh at his periodic element table jokes anymore.”

“Yeah. As soon as I offered that I regretted it anyway. Alright, what do you want? Because I told the CMO you’d be there, and I hate going back on my word. I don’t want to do anything to fuck this up. It’s important to me, and Andrea specifically asked about you, so I need you.”

I’ve never been someone’s necessity, only their burden, and the fact that Rhode needs me has me wanting to swap my no for a yes.

I’m tempted to take back my offer, but during my self-sabotage days, I became so good at flaking on people that I could’ve taught a masterclass on ghosting.

It’s easy for me to make friends, but keeping them is hard. Every time I slip into a dark phase, I go into hibernation mode and start ignoring texts. I lose a lot of friends in those shadows, and when I finally resurface, Gwen’s the only one there.

That’s not who I want to be anymore.

I pull his beanie over my head, trying not to inhale his smoky scent. “Fine. I’ll go, but I have one condition…”

“What’s that?”

I nibble my thumbnail. “I have to donate an auction item for a charity event called The Peaceful Mind Project. I’ll go to your event, but I want some box seats for a Guardians game to donate.”

His brow lifts, highlighting the tiny white scar on his forehead. “You need box tickets to a game? That’s all?”

A thought tugs at the corner of my lips, pulling them into a pout. Gwen claims I need to advocate for myself, so maybe I should ask for more. “Box tickets and a favor of my choosing to be owed at any point in my life.”

He casts me a flat look. “So, I’m just going to be indebted to you forever?”

“Pretty much.” I wave like a queen. “Feel free to bow down and get on your knees.”

The blue in his eyes heats like the hottest flame. “I’m not getting on my knees for you, Nina.”

His voice turns husky. That, plus the fact that he thinks I’m too young makes me want to prove him wrong. I flick my eyes over his chest. “Oh, but I think you’d look so good begging for me.”

His expression turns to stone, but the veins in his neck thicken as his fists tighten at his sides.

He grunt-coughs. “Fine. Tickets and one favor, but that’s all.”

“Going with a subject change then? I see, but fine. You have yourself a fake date.”

I hold out my hand, but he doesn’t take it. Instead, his gaze locks onto mine, heavy with some expression.

Closing the distance between us in one step, he moves so the subtle rise and fall of his chest grazes my nipple piercing. The warmth emanating from him has my thoughts turning dirty.

“Let’s be clear about one thing,” he murmurs, eyes dropping to my lips. “I don’t want you to get the wrong impression, so I’m going to be a little blunt. I’m too old for you, so I’m not touching you unless we have to at the event, and even then, I’m going to keep it friendly, alright? Nothing’s happening between us.

”

I lift up on my toes to be closer to him. “If you want people to believe I’m your date, you’re going to have to touch me, Rhode.”

He mutters a curse, pinching his eyes closed. “You’re not going to make this easy on me, are you?”

“Welcome to life. It’s not easy.”

His blue eyes bounce between mine before he drops the lightest of kisses to the top of my hair. He spins around faster than my next heartbeat like he’s running away.

The imprint of his featherlight lips weighs heavy on my head for the rest of the night.