Page 20 of Back in the Game (Pride in the Game #1)

The banter was top-tier. The trash talk was immaculate. The view of Killinger in tight sweatpants was the best Canada had to offer.

He had Harrison wrapped around his finger. It wasn’t the ideal time to find out he had a major praise kink, but Harrison wasn’t shy about giving his approval either.

The sexual tension was amping up, and although Harrison was more reserved with showing his interest, it was there. And the time they both spent in their rooms taking long showers was getting ridiculous.

Fuck, he wanted both. Friendship and sex. That was a thing, wasn’t it?

He was so worked up that he missed all three shots, only managing to skim the top of the net on the third one. He smacked his stick off the ice in frustration, earning a chuckle from Harrison’s direction.

“Are you and the ice having a disagreement?” Harrison asked loudly. “Did it find out that you were having an affair with the locker room floor?”

Jett laughed because he couldn’t help it. Harrison’s jokes were fucking annoying, but they were funny enough to keep him from getting mad.

“This move is bullshit,” said Jett. “Agree to be my friend so I can stop embarrassing myself already.”

“I don’t think us being friends is going to help you be less embarrassing.”

“Fuck you, Killinger.”

Harrison’s smirk made his knees shaky.

“Come over here, then. Give it a try, Fraser.”

Was he daring him to make a move? Shit, why couldn’t he read minds?

When he hesitated for too long, Harrison shrugged and chuckled lowly. “I think we should call it a day. We can start fresh tomorrow and see if your mood improves along with your accuracy.”

Jett leaned against his stick and smiled, ignoring the taunt. “You going to cook me supper tonight for doing a good job this week?”

“Yeah,” said Harrison. “How about barbecue with a side of arsenic?”

Wow, that was cold. Jett still laughed because Harrison once again managed to get the last word in.

He went back to the bench and took his skates and gloves off. At least with all this time on the ice, he would be in great shape this coming season. He’d been taking advantage of the gym and the lake, not pushing himself, just doing basic maintenance work.

Harrison never pushed him too hard, and he was generous with his breaks. His body felt amazing thanks to the fresh air, sleep and all the healthy food he was eating. He was going to be on fire when he saw his team again.

There were no windows in the warehouse other than limited skylights, so Jett didn’t know it was raining until he stepped into a downpour that instantly soaked his clothes. He ran for the house, cursing when his shoes slipped on the porch steps.

“Holy fuck,” said Jett as he opened the door and bolted inside. “Where did this come from?”

Harrison was in the kitchen talking on the phone. He turned to look at Jett, gave his drenched appearance a thumbs up, and returned to his conversation.

“Tell Arlo I said hi,” Jett told him as he sloshed his way loudly to his room, ignoring the laugh Harrison let out as he watched him leave.

There was nothing more gross than the feeling of wet clothes clinging to skin. He stepped into the walk-in shower fully clothed and turned the water on. There was no point undressing anywhere else when he would make a mess.

When he was naked and under the hot spray of water, Jett leaned his head on the tiled wall and sighed.

His dick was still half-hard and showing no signs of settling down, and with the images from before floating around in his mind, it was easier to take care of the problem to get a few hours of peace.

He could hear Harrison’s voice through the two doors, muffled and low, but it helped add a layer of realness to the scene playing in his head.

Jett was in this very position, leaning against the shower wall with his legs spread apart. Harrison was kneeling behind him, his tongue buried in Jett’s ass as he stroked him slowly in a way that drove him crazy.

“Fuck, you taste so good,” said Harrison as he circled his thumb around the tip of Jett’s cock and pressed it into the slit. “Such a good boy. I could eat you out like this all day.”

Jett bit off a whimper when Harrison went back to work, the roughness of his beard scratching and tickling his sensitive ass and thighs as he fucked him with his tongue.

He was already at the edge. He had been all afternoon.

Harrison’s big hand kept stroking his cock, working faster and harder now, trying to push him over before his legs gave out. Jett had to bite down on his arm to keep quiet, nearly drawing blood as he raced toward the peak of what he knew was going to be a mind-blowing orgasm.

“Jett, pizza or Chinese? I want junk food tonight.”

Jett’s eyes flew open. He couldn’t stop it if he tried.

“Fuck!”

He came so fast that his vision went spotty.

He cursed when his leg gave out and his knees hit the shower floor hard enough to bruise.

The only thing that saved him from further embarrassment was the steamed-up glass blocking him from Harrison’s view.

Only Jett could see himself kneeling in his own cum as he tried to regain feeling in his shaky legs.

“Dude, did you just fall?”

Yeah, right over the edge into orgasm canyon. Thanks for the assist, Killinger.

“Pizza!” Jett shouted, hoping Harrison would get the hint and leave him to die.

“Sounds good,” said Killinger. “I’ll get them to drop it at the end of the road, so I’ll be gone for a minute.”

“Nice,” said Jett. “That’s great. I’m proud of you.”

He didn’t know what he was saying anymore. That orgasm had knocked all sense from him.

“You need help in there?”

Jett switched the water temperature to cold before his skin caught fire.

“All good in here. Thanks for your help—I mean, thanks for the offer! Get the pizza, dude. I’m starving.”

Jett didn’t take his next breath until he heard Killinger laugh and shut the bathroom door, leaving him alone with his shame. He was glad Harrison would be busy because Jett would need more than a few minutes to collect the pieces of himself and put them back together.

God, he was a mess.

If Harrison knew what he had interrupted in Jett’s bathroom, he showed no signs of acknowledging it. He seemed rather reserved as the night went on and the storm worsened.

They ate their pizza and watched TV, but with the lights flickering, it looked like it would be an early night.

Jett jumped when a flash of white light lit up the room, momentarily blinding him, before thunder cracked loud enough overhead that the dishes in the cupboards rattled.

“Ten bucks says we lose power,” said Jett, smiling at Harrison to get him riled up.

But Harrison didn’t take the bait. He was frowning and looking out the window like he was waiting for something bad to happen. Was he nervous about trees falling and hitting the house or blocking the road?

Both would equally suck.

Harrison sighed and got up from his chair. He turned the TV off and tossed the remote on the coffee table before he met Jett’s gaze.

“Where are your keys?”

Confused, Jett motioned toward the front door where his keys hung from a hook. “Are you going out?”

He didn’t know why Harrison wanted to take his vehicle, other than not wanting to risk that fancy old car in his garage. But in this weather, when it was already dark out?

“I’m not going anywhere,” said Harrison. He crossed the room and went to the shelf holding Jett’s keys, plucking them off. “And neither are you.”

Jett looked out the window where the storm kicked up leaves and blew water off the lake. “No shit. I wouldn’t leave right now even if I wanted to.”

Harrison jingled his keys at him, striding toward his room. “Goodnight, Fraser.”

Jett didn’t move from his spot on the couch. He hugged his arms to his chest, trying to ignore the pit of anxiety that was beginning to eat at him. The feeling only intensified when the power cut out, and he was suddenly thrown into darkness.

Fucking storm.

He tried to shake the feeling as he stood and headed for his room. He used his phone flashlight to avoid bumping into anything, but he shut it off as soon as he was in bed and under the blankets to preserve the battery.

More flashing lights and thunder startled him. The storm had to be above, judging by how loud and bright it was. So, to avoid being blinded while trying to fall asleep, he grabbed the spare pillow and threw it over his head.

Harrison’s issue with keys was the thought that distracted him from slumber. That was the second time he’d taken them, even though Jett had no intention of leaving.

Was it a superstition, or was he being paranoid and protective?

The sound of rain battering against the window was like white noise.

The intensity fluctuated back and forth as Jett tried to fall asleep, only to be woken up by more thunder.

His mind kept drifting in and out of consciousness, and since Harrison and car keys had been his last thought, his sleepy brain kept making half-dream scenarios that involved vehicles and Harrison.

They were in a car driving through a storm. The rain was pouring in buckets, so he could barely see, but he drove slowly to avoid going off the road. Harrison kept reaching for the keys in the ignition, not saying anything, but not listening to Jett when he told him to stop.

Harrison’s brother and best friend had died in a storm like this.

Jett slammed his foot on the brake and sprang into a sitting position on the bed. He was disoriented and struggling to find his limbs, but was already on his feet, staggering across the house to Harrison’s room.

It was stupid. The accident was a long time ago, but if storms brought those memories back, Jett didn’t think he could relax until he knew Harrison was fine. The thought of Harrison panicking in his room didn’t sit well with him.

When he got to Harrison’s door, he forgot to knock, but he was already in the room, so it was too late. He tripped over a pair of boots that had been too close to the doorway as he ventured farther in, fully expecting to get something thrown at him .

“Harrison?”

He could see the bed until lightning flashed and took away what night vision he had. Jett carefully walked closer and pressed his hands to the bed, running them over the top. He frowned when he could feel no lump that indicated Harrison was there.

The rain hitting the roof was loud, but it couldn’t completely block out the sound of the water running. It was a weird time to shower, but Jett still didn’t feel right about leaving without proof of life.

He knocked on the bathroom door as soon as he found it, cracking it open so his voice was loud enough to hear.

“Killinger, you okay?”

Nothing.

“Just tell me to fuck off so I can stop worrying about you and go back to bed. This storm is freaking me out. The thunder is loud as hell.”

Still nothing.

Jett didn’t know why his instincts kept telling him something was wrong, but with Harrison not answering, he had no choice but to investigate.

He stepped into the bathroom, cursing at how dark it was. He flicked the light switch on, and nothing happened. This was expected, but it was still annoying. He’d left his phone in his room, and besides the occasional flash of lightning, he couldn’t see shit.

“Seriously, man, are you in here or am I talking to myself?”

There was a small sound in the darkness—a groan, like he had just woken Harrison from a nap. If he was scared of storms and the shower was where he needed to be to cope, Jett wasn’t going to bother him, but—something was off.

The room wasn’t steamy from the running hot water; if anything, it was damp and cold in the bathroom

Jett placed his hand on the glass of the walk-in shower and hissed.

Ice cold.

He slid the door open, too worried to care if he pissed Harrison off by barging in on his alone time. He stretched his arms into the darkness, cursing when the freezing water hit them and splattered his face. The feeling took his breath away .

Now he was worried that Harrison had slipped and hit his head. How long had he been in here? Jett couldn’t remember how long he had been in bed before he came to check on him.

He stepped inside, ignoring how cold the water was as he fumbled for the tap to switch it to warm. Then he searched blindly, trying to find where Harrison was standing, but he nearly tripped over something heavy lying on the bottom.

A pained groan.

“Holy—” Jett dropped to his knees and tried to pull Harrison into a sitting position, but his hands couldn’t get a grip on his frigid skin.

He slid his hands upward until he found his shoulders and then hauled him up, his stomach twisting in knots at the feeling of Harrison’s head flopping lifelessly against his chest.

Jett needed to get his phone and call an ambulance, but he was too scared to leave Harrison. Then he remembered that he needed to keep Harrison’s neck still in case he had an injury from his fall, and that knowledge sent him into an even bigger panic.

“Oh fuck, I killed him.”

But Harrison’s breathing, although shallow, was steady against the skin of his neck. He was still alarmingly cold, but the warm water was slowly thawing the lifeless body in his arms.

Jett tried to feel around Harrison’s head with a gentle hand, but there were no bumps under his long hair. That didn’t mean anything; it was still too dark to see blood or brains splattered on the wall. Harrison could be lying there with an axe impaled in his chest, and he wouldn’t be able to tell.

“I need my phone.”

That was Jett’s singular thought, because if Harrison was seriously hurt, he was wasting time holding onto him.

Harrison groaned again, shifting slightly in his arms. The movement made Jett freeze in place, scared to move in case he accidentally made things worse.

The lights flicked on, and Jett cried out. The sudden brightness burned so badly that it brought tears to his eyes. He blinked through them, and his vision was blurry, but he could see . His eyes roamed over Harrison’s large body, looking for bruises, cuts or blood—and found nothing .

His skin was pale and clammy, and his lips had a blue tinge. Other than that, he looked fine.

Jett’s breath caught in his chest when Harrison grimaced and squirmed, but his eyes blinked open, pupils dilating as they met Jett’s gaze.

“J-Jett?”