I live for the crash.
Body on body, ice splintering under blades, the arena's roar drowning everything but that one rival enforcer who hits like heartbreak.
He's all lone-wolf fury, scrambling for a roster spot that could be mine, haunted by ghosts that make him shove everyone away.
Our first line together? Brutal. Partners by necessity, colliding in practice like we want to destroy each other.
But destroy? No. I want to devour.

Sweat drips from inked skin onto his bruises in the fogged locker room mirrors.
Locked equipment room, door barred, his gruff sarcasm cracking as I press close - torsos twisting, breaths ragged, his hands finally gripping instead of pushing.
This man who won't trust, won't surrender, pulls the protector from me.
Tender where the game demands brutal. Fierce where he needs fragile.
Off-ice hotel glow finds us entwined, tattoos mapping every exposed ache, his defiance melting into demands that echo my own reckless hunger.

Teammates in pro hockey's macho grind, chasing the Cup - one leaked photo, one wrong whisper, and we're done.
Rosters shredded. Glory iced. That hard-won self-reliance he clings to? Gone.
Worse, the one who'd redeem me becomes the rift.
I've inked over my own fractures to stay whole, but he sees them.
"You break me open," I told him once, voice low against his neck, "and I'd crash into you again."

Rivals fused on thin ice, lust bruising deeper than any check.
He needs partnership he denies. I need his surrender like air after a shift.
But in this forbidden heat, where bodies slam and hearts war - what wins?
The Cup we bleed for.
Or the man who'd shatter us both?

A full-length MM sports erotic romance featuring a tattooed forward and a haunted enforcer.