Rink of Desire

Chapter 1: Fire on Ice

Kelsie Whitaker leaned against the sticky counter of the frat house kitchen, nursing a lukewarm beer she had no intention of finishing. Her caramel brown hair spilled over her shoulder, and her sharp green eyes scanned the room with a mix of disdain and curiosity. Parties weren’t her scene, but she’d been dragged here by a friend who’d ditched her within ten minutes. Now, she was stuck watching drunk co-eds grind to a bassline that rattled her teeth.

Across the room, Cohen Remington, the university’s resident hockey god and perpetual thorn in her side, was holding court. His dark brown hair was tousled just enough to look effortless, and those ocean blue eyes glinted with mischief as some blonde puck bunny draped herself over him. Kelsie rolled her eyes. Of course, the fuckboy rumors followed him like a shadow, and he did nothing to dispel them. Not that she cared. Not at all.

Still, when their eyes met across the crowded room—his smirk widening as if he could read her irritation—she felt a familiar heat crawl up her neck. They’d been at each other’s throats since the first day of their shared literature class, where he’d called her analysis of *Pride and Prejudice* ‘adorably uptight.’ She’d fired back that his brain was as empty as the rink after a loss. The bickering hadn’t stopped since.

Now, though, Cohen looked… trapped. The blonde was practically climbing him, and for once, his cocky grin faltered. Kelsie’s lips twitched. Oh, this was too good. Before she could stop herself, she pushed off the counter and strode over, her boots clicking with purpose.

“Get away from my boyfriend, bitch!” Kelsie snapped, her voice cutting through the music. She shoved the blonde back with just enough force to make her stumble, then looped her arm possessively through Cohen’s. The girl’s mouth dropped open, but Kelsie’s glare dared her to say a word. She didn’t.

Cohen blinked down at her, surprise flickering before that damn smirk returned. “Not gonna lie, Whitaker, that was kinda hot,” he drawled, his voice low and teasing. “But you didn’t have to do that. I had it handled.”

“Oh, please,” Kelsie scoffed, dropping his arm but not stepping away. “You looked like a deer in headlights. I just saved your ass, Remington. You’re welcome.”

He chuckled, the sound vibrating through the small space between them. “My hero. What’s the catch? Gonna lecture me on chivalry now?”

“Only if you beg for it,” she shot back, her tone dripping with sarcasm. But there was a spark in his eyes, a challenge, and damn if it didn’t make her pulse kick up a notch.

They stood there, the party pulsing around them, trading barbs like it was foreplay. “You know,” Cohen said after a moment, leaning in so his breath brushed her ear, “this place is getting old. Wanna get out of here? I promise I won’t bite… unless you ask nicely.”

Kelsie’s laugh was sharp, but her body betrayed her with a shiver. “Dream on, hockey boy. But fine, let’s go. I’m not babysitting your ego all night.”

They wove through the crowd, the cool night air hitting them as they stepped outside. The hockey house wasn’t far, and by the time they reached the empty, dimly lit living room—Cohen’s teammates either still at the party or off chasing tail—the tension between them was a live wire. Kelsie turned to face him, arms crossed, but her smirk was all fire.

“So, what’s the plan, Remington? Gonna show me your trophy collection, or are we just here to argue some more?”

Cohen stepped closer, his height forcing her to tilt her chin up. “Oh, Whitaker, I’ve got better ideas than arguing,” he murmured, his voice a low growl. “Unless you’re scared to play a different kind of game.”

Her breath hitched, but she didn’t back down. “Scared? Please. I just don’t want to break your fragile little heart when I win.”

His grin was feral as he closed the distance, one hand sliding to her waist while the other tipped her chin up. “Then let’s see who breaks first.”

Their lips crashed together, all heat and teeth and pent-up frustration. Kelsie’s hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer as his tongue swept into her mouth, claiming and challenging all at once. She pushed back just as hard, her nails digging into his shoulders, a silent dare to keep up. They stumbled toward the couch, the air between them crackling with raw, undeniable want, ready to ignite into something explosive.