Page 44 of Iced Out Mate

Neither of us were hungry, so we brought the pizza in and popped it in the fridge. I then followed a quiet and tired Miles to the bathroom. We undressed and got into the hot shower together. It was a large and modern shower with a rainfall showerhead. I stood under the water and let the stress of the day wash down the drain, watching the red-tinged water swirl.

Anxiety began to crawl its way back up my spine, threatening to clamp its jaws around my lungs. I took a deep breath and focused on Miles as he soaped himself up. He must have seen something on my face because he stopped and brought the soapy loofah to my chest. He scrubbed in soft circles, moving downward. He cleaned my arms, my hands. He scrubbed the front of my legs. Washed off a dried spot of blood, water splashing off his body.

It was intimate and gentle. It, once again, made me feel safer than I’d ever felt. The threat meant nothing to me in this moment as Miles cleaned me off.

I turned around for him. He was just as gentle with my back. Scrubbing in the same motion. The soap smelled like the beach, coconut and ocean waves. Clean. Fresh.

Safe.

When he finished washing me, I took the loofah from him, added some more soap, and returned the favor. Neither of us spoke. Too much had happened, and not a single word was needed. We both understood how deep the exhaustion ran inside of us. I was also more than happy to stand with nothing but the sound of water splashing against us and the tiles beneath my feet. It was relaxing. It was comforting.

I continued to wash him, taking my time. Holding him at certain points. Although it wasn’t overly sexual, we still both were clearly excited, neither of us trying to hide it. I held him with my stiff cock pressed up against his ass, with my chin on his shoulder. Neither of us initiated anything further than that.

We simply enjoyed this type of touch. This sense of closeness and intimacy. I didn’t need more. I knew I’d get more and I would gladly give him more in return—but for now, this was all I needed.

Miles was all I needed.

We stayed in the shower for what felt like close to an hour. The security alarm had been set and Miles had his phone propped up and in view through the glass shower door. We’d know if someone came back to survey the aftermath of their chaos.

No one did. I sank back into the sanctuary that Miles and his home had provided for me tonight. I didn’t think this kind of feeling was possible. I’d felt it before, when I was a kid, when my home hadn’t been split in half and my family torn along with it. Since then, I had lost any kind of semblance of “sanctuary” in my life. With hockey, I was often moving or traveling from hotel room to hotel room. And even through all those samplings of different spaces, I never felt as comfortable as I did with Miles.

Was it his home specifically, or would I feel that way anywhere I went with Miles?

The shower trickled to a stop. Miles kissed me, his wet lips pressing against mine. I held him close, our bodies fitting so well together.

“Time for bed?” Miles asked me.

“Way past time. If I don’t get in a bed in about ten seconds I’m going to sleep standing right here.”

“You feel pretty awake to me,” Miles teased, looking down between us.

I wiggled my hips. “This has a mind of its own. And right now I’m going to have to veto it.” I kissed him again. “But my veto power goes away in the mornings.”

“Good. Now let’s dry off and go to bed. I’m down for some cuddles.”

“Yes, that sounds perfect.”

And it was. Our day was full of chaos and trouble and, frankly, bullshit. I forgot all of that once I cuddled up under a thick, warm comforter with a half-naked Miles, his body warm against mine, my arm thrown over him.

Just the two of us, embracing as sleep slowly took us under.

Happy, safe, comfortable.

Perfect.

Chapter Twenty

Traveling Games & Timeline Jumps

MILES

The orange and green of the Tampa Barracudas was painted all over their arena. I sat on the bench directly next to Coach Julian, who was shouting out at the guys on the ice. It was a tough match and we were down by two points, but the star players had just been swapped back into the game, so I had faith we’d see this turn around.

One of those star players was Dylan. He skated across the ice like he’d been born with blades on his feet. He was much more focused and in the game than he’d been the last couple times I watched him play. He successfully managed two stealing swipes and nearly sank the puck but was blocked at the last second by their goalie. I was close enough to hear the chirps, the shit talking, the grunts, the groans, and the cracks as bodies slammed into bodies.

I internally winced when it was Dylan’s body getting shouldered against the boards. I knew he lived for that kind of rough play, but not only was I his athletic trainer, but I was also his fated mate, which meant my protective instincts were doubling down.

Fated mate…