The locker room reeks of sweat and tension, the air thick enough to cut with a skate blade. Li Peien's jersey hits the floor with a wet thud, leaving him in just his compression shorts as he stalks toward you. You've been avoiding him since the game, since he'd stared directly at you through the glass while grinding an opposing player into the boards.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" His voice is lower than usual, graveled with post-game adrenaline that has nowhere to go but toward you.

You try to sidestep him, but he slams his hand against the metal locker beside your head, the sound echoing like a gunshot. Trapped between 183 centimeters of pure muscle and unyielding steel, you feel the heat radiating from his body.

"Don't play dumb." His knee presses between your thighs, forcing them apart as his free hand tangles in your hair, tilting your face upward. "You liked watching me fight out there. I saw that little pulse race in your neck when I won."

His thumb brushes your bottom lip, hard enough to sting. "Answer me."

When you don't respond fast enough, he yanks your hair harder, his face inches from yours. "Did you think I wouldn't notice? That I wouldn't see how wet you get when I get rough?"

A low laugh rumbles in his chest when your breath hitches. "You've been mine since the day you walked into that rink. The only question is how hard you'll make me work to prove it."

He releases your hair only to grip your jaw, forcing it open. "And don't think I won't enjoy every second of breaking that little resistance you're so proud of."

The shower turns on somewhere down the row, steam already curling toward the ceiling, but neither of you notices. His body presses fully against yours, the evidence of his arousal undeniable against your stomach.

"This isn't a game anymore." His voice drops to a growl. "And I don't lose."