Brett Rocha retired from pro-hockey while still at the top of his game. Co-owner of a chain of restaurants and an inherited ice skating academy, he seems to have it all. Despite his fame, wealth, and good fortune, though, Brett suddenly finds himself painfully alone.
Ex-Olympic figure skating star Rylan Hennessy transitioned to professional ice dancing with Celia, Brett’s sister and Rylan’s lifelong partner on the ice. Then tragedy strikes, and Rylan’s world is turned upside down, too.
With the unexpected death of Celia, Brett and Rylan are drawn together through their mutual grief. Their bond strengthens when Brett introduces Rylan to BDSM, a lifestyle Rylan has never experienced before. While the mystery of Celia’s murder still needs to be solved, a second tragedy threatens to tear them apart.
Will their relationship survive, or will love be enough to see them through this life altering, harrowing change?
It wasn’t long before the others cleared off the ice to prepare for that night’s performance and Rylan was alone with Brett. Skating close to Rylan, Brett said softly, “You really were amazing, and you make that all look so easy.” He took Rylan’s hands and pulled him farther out onto the ice. “See, I can skate backwards, too.”
Rylan laughed. Holding tightly to Brett’s hands he glided away from Brett until he stopped Brett’s progress then spun them slowly around. Brett almost lost his balance and tried to quick step a few times, except hockey skates had wider blades, but no toe picks for such maneuvers. Before Brett faceplanted on the ice, Rylan darted forward and wrapped both arms around Brett’s waist, bracing him.
“Hmm, you fell for my pretending to almost fall.” Brett pulled Rylan even closer.
“You would’ve landed on your face if I hadn’t saved you,” Rylan countered as they skated slowly, Rylan going backward this time.
“Says you.” Brett’s hands moved slowly from Rylan’s shoulder blades and brushed down his back. Rylan arched against Brett’s wide chest. Dipping his head, Brett nuzzled Rylan’s cheek, sprinkling soft kisses over his skin. His hands moved over Rylan’s round ass cheeks and he squeezed, murmuring, “You’re like a drug, addictive.”
Rylan shuddered when Brett’s fingers dug into the tender skin of his rear and he ground his pelvis against Brett’s. They did a slow spin and Rylan let his head drop back, exposing his throat to Brett’s mouth.
Brett gave a gentle push off the ice with one foot, moved one arm up and held Rylan about the waist in a powerful grip. “I loved watching you stretch and spin. That’s fucking sexy,” Brett said right before he scraped his teeth down Rylan’s throat. Rylan arched his back farther, letting Brett support his weight. Brett’s other hand gripped Rylan’s hair, tipping his head back even more while he moved his lips up and down Rylan’s neck, then sucking ever so lightly on Rylan’s Adam’s apple.
Rylan straightened and hooked one arm around Brett’s neck, kissing him. Slight pressure from Brett’s tongue and Rylan opened his lips far enough their tongues slipped and slid over each other. They’d stopped moving and were in the center of the rink. Brett’s fingers combed through Rylan’s hair a few times before he deepened their kiss and slipped the fingers of his other hand down and between Rylan’s ass cheeks, pressing against the thong strap of his belt. The sensation made him tremble.
The sound of machinery made them both jump and separate. Brett chuckled and took Rylan’s hand, leading him off the ice as one of the crew drove the Zamboni out. “I think they want to clean the ice and prep for the show. Ready to head back to the hotel?”
“Yes,” Rylan croaked. He tried to reach between down his sweats with his free hand but Brett grabbed his wrist, holding it firmly.
“Oh, no, you’re not doing that.” Brett shoved off with one foot, pulling Rylan after him and off the ice. “Are you wearing a belt?”
Rylan nodded. “Of course.”
A slow, predatory smile spread across Brett’s face. “Good. Leave it on.”
After collecting Rylan’s belongings from his locker, they made their way to the parking garage and Brett’s car. Rylan’s hard-on had cooled off a little by the time they were on the street and on their way to the hotel. That cool down didn’t last long. Brett’s palm came to a firm rest between Rylan’s legs and his thumb brushed back and forth then rubbed in small circles. Rylan slipped down in his seat and spread his legs, so Brett had more access, enjoying the way his erection was held in his belt.
“Wow, that ... crap I never thought of a dance belt as a sex toy,” Rylan’s words were breathless, and he panted them out.
When they came to a red light, Brett glanced over and snickered. “Damn, that thing really keeps you held tightly. I think this has potential.”
“Uh huh,” Rylan sort of moaned out the sound. He took a deep breath and concentrated on quieting his arousal. “Th-that’s sort of th-the p-point.”
At the hotel, Rylan walked quietly beside Brett and waited while he opened the door, then followed him inside.