Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 51902 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51902 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
He stepped into his khakis, eyeing me warily over the rim of his glasses. “And you want to sneak around, having illicit relations with your hockey student?”
“Fuck yes, I do.”
Malcolm released a bubble of laughter. “I—really?”
“Really.” I skirted the bed we’d wrecked, tugging his wrist so we sat next to each other on the mattress. “I’m not officially out, and I have no plans to come out for a while. I’ve got one last shot at the pros, and I need to stay out of the spotlight. The only thing I want a prospective team talking about are my stats, not my sex life. If that’s an issue, I get it. I do. If it’s not, we can…study hockey.”
“Study hockey,” he repeated. “But I don’t need any more data.”
“So we’ll do it for fun.” I probably should have been insulted by his furrowed brow and dubious expression, but it made me chuckle. “Hey, it gives us an excuse to see each other. My friends know about you, my coach and my agent know about you…your roommate knows, too. We’ve been seen together at the Depot and around campus. We don’t have to hide. We can hang out whenever we want, and if we happen to end up naked in my bed…that’s our thing. Not theirs.”
Malcolm darted a cautious glance my way. “You make it sound simple.”
“It could be,” I insisted. “I like you, and I feel kind of fucking lucky I get to touch you, Malcolm. I don’t want to stop. Not now. But it’s your call.”
Say yes. Say yes.
He nodded. “You raise a few good points, and my moral compass has already been compromised.”
“That’s the spirit!”
Malcolm’s lips twitched. “You’re a terrible influence.”
I shrugged. “I resemble that remark.”
“Hmph. Well, okay…yes, but I think we can drop the hockey lessons in a true sense. I’ve learned all I need to know.”
“Oh, really?” I narrowed my eyes. “What’s a hat trick? How many players are on the ice per team during a game? How many minutes are in each period?”
Malcolm’s brow creased in concentration. “One player scoring three goals in a game, six players per team—one goalie, two defenders, three forwards, and each period lasts an eternity, especially if your team is losing.”
“Nice try, Maloney. How long is a period?”
“Um…thirty minutes?”
I set a hand on his knee and slid it toward his crotch. “Sounds like someone needs some tutoring.”
He lowered his face, but I spotted his sly grin. The little fucker was toying with me. Teasing me. This was geek-speak for “Hell, yes, let’s fuck our brains out. YOLO, baby.” He wanted this too. He wanted me.
“I don’t need tutoring,” he argued without heat.
“What do you need?” I rubbed my thumb along his fly, tilting my hips suggestively as I pecked his cheek. “A kiss?”
“Mmm.”
I slipped a hand between us and gripped his cock. “A hand job.”
“Ungh…”
“Do you want my dick? It’s right here.” I tapped my length against his. “All you have to do is ask.”
Malcolm’s eyes darkened and his voice sounded like gravel and honey. “I want.”
“I’ll give it to you…any way you want it,” I rasped. “I’m hoping you let me fuck you too, ’cause I really want to be inside your tight hole.”
“I…”
“Shh, it doesn’t have to be today. I’m happy to suck you off or eat your ass or—”
Malcolm blushed…and lunged for me, tackling me onto the bed. I chuckled at his exuberance, moaning as he took over.
Maybe this was unconventional, maybe even a little selfish. Only a real asshole would propose a secret—what had he called it?—liaison with an out and proud man. But the rush of pure relief felt almost cleansing, as if something in me craved him and needed this connection.
Don’t ask. I was done analyzing how we got here. I’d gotten lucky, but in my experience, luck didn’t stick around—so it was best to enjoy it for as long as it lasted.
CHAPTER 14
JETT
Life was good. Very good.
The Bears had won five in a row, I was on top of my classes, and my recent conversation with a scout had resulted in preliminary talks with the manager of the Coyotes, a Pacific division developmental team. Not the AHL, but I could work my way up.
My pessimistic side reared every so often, warning me not to get too comfy, but then we won a sixth game on the road, I aced my English Lit essay, Randall called to tell me the Wolves wanted to meet me, and Malcolm blew me in the shower. I mean…c’mon.
The only minor issue was my knee. It was…fine, but not totally fine. I massaged it, iced the fuck out of it, and adjusted my cardio workouts to avoid unnecessary strain. It hadn’t slowed me down so far. In fact, I’d scored in four of the past six games and had five assists, too. Not bad.