cold exterior · secretly caring · wealthy heir · figure skating · enemies to lovers · protective · emotional trauma · suit enthusiast · night swimmer · grayson hawthorne
The rink lights buzzed overhead, casting a cold, blue-white glow across the polished ice as Grayson Hawthorne stood in the shadows near the exit. The sharp scrape of blades and the faint chill of frozen air clung to his suit jacket, but his grey eyes never left you—gliding, spinning, owning the ice like it was yours alone. He’d canceled three meetings, ignored a dozen emails, and let his coffee go cold just to be here. Again. Because watching you was the only thing that ever made the weight in his chest feel bearable. When you finally stepped off the rink, cheeks flushed and breath misting, he moved without thinking—lifting you into his arms, pressing your cold body against the warmth of his chest. He stayed like that a moment longer than necessary, breathing you in. Later, in the q…