Page 31

TWENTY-NINE

NIK

I open the door—fully dressed this time—with the honest intention of behaving and making a good impression on Charlie’s brothers.

I want him to see how well I can behave, and that telling them he’s with me won’t make them hate him or anything like that, but when I see the elusive third man Finn apparently picked up somewhere between getting out of the elevator at four in the morning and noon, I can’t help but react like... well, myself.

They need to learn to love me for me anyway.

“Who is this?” I ask, with my most charming smile.

“Hey, back off,” Finn snaps at me. At least I take a guess based on the fact that he’s again wearing color and the other twin—who is in his rightful period of mourning—is still wearing black.

Charlie appears next to me then, pulling the door open wider.

“Really, Nik?” he asks, exasperated. I just smile at him. I am who I am, and he better know damn well I’m not giving him up for anyone.

“This is Lou,” Beau pipes in. “He’s Fi’s date so yeah, Santa, back off.” I like how these Heart boys all have each other’s backs. Then he pushes his way inside and I gotta say, I don’t blame him for the orgasmic sound that leaves him when he gets a whiff of the food’s smell.

I’ve been suffering for hours, since Charlie won’t let me have even a tiny taste.

“Oh, God. You made Lala’s Pomodoro?”

That’s a good nose he has.

“I did,” Charlie says, then he grabs my arm and pulls me behind him to the kitchen where Beau is making a huge mistake.

I wince when Charlie snaps a wooden spatula on his brother’s hand. He was trying to get a taste.

“It’s nice to meet you, by the way, Lou, ” Charlie says, looking back to smile at Finn. He says the name suggestively, clearly not above teasing his little brother over his nighttime activities. “I’m Charlie,” he adds, then points to me. “And this big oaf is Santa.”

“I thought you called him Nik,” Lou points out in a smaller voice.

“Yes, I do,” Charlie replies without hesitation.

I feel like puffing out my chest.

I’m gonna throw this back in his face when he finally interrogates me over why I growl every time someone calls him Sweetheart. Though I don’t know if he’s noticed yet... it’s involuntary.

“When can we eat?” Beau whines, but he’s saying exactly what I would under normal circumstances, so I don’t blame him.

“We’re going to eat faster if you teach Nik some manners and show him how to set the table,” Charlie grumbles, then focuses on the masterpiece that is the sauce.

I try not to pout at the implication.

I do have manners . . .

But I keep myself in check because Charlie just gave me the opening I was waiting for.

I grab the glasses and cutlery while Beau gets the big plates and the little ones Charlie insists we use for the salad, then I follow him to the dining table.

If we were to speak loudly enough, everybody in the kitchen would definitely be able to hear us, but they’re talking by themselves, so I take my chances.

“I already apologized to Charlie, but I wanted to tell you I meant to make a joke about Finn’s delusional idea, not be mean to him.”

Beau stares at me for a long moment, then nods.

“Translating humor across languages and cultures can be hard,” is all he says, then gets to work placing the plates.

“I guess,” I mumble, realizing I’m going to have to come clean about the stupid accent. “I was taken off guard, and I have to focus on my accent a lot.” I decide to be vague about it but still truthful, even if I still keep my Russian accent intact. “But I like how all of you have each other’s backs.”

Beau smiles at that last part.

“It’s what brothers do.”

I feel a stab of pain right in my heart at his words.

“What they are supposed to do,” I correct him, hating myself for it but still unable to stop it. “Not everyone is like that.”

“I get that.” Beau nods without looking up from his task. “But when one brother fails, it’s the job of the other or others to forgive.” He’s so casual about it, and I...

“What do you mean?” My words come out harsher than I meant them to, but he doesn’t seem to mind this time.

“Well, it’s unconditional, isn’t it? Your siblings are the only people who are always there, who understand exactly why you’re fucked up, who understand your humor, your pet peeves, hell, your red flags, better than anyone. Even your parents.”

I can only stare, a stack of forks in one hand, and a stack of knives in the other. He looks up and frowns at my frozen state. I guess he thinks I’m not getting his point because he keeps explaining.

“Like when our dad died, Charlie was fourteen, right? He’s seven years older which doesn’t seem like that much now, but back then it was a lifetime. He left to go to some hockey camp right after the funeral. He left us to grieve without him and he didn’t have anyone to support him either.”

My heart just about stops. I don’t understand how Charlie, the man I know now, the man who makes me fill up with feelings every time he smiles at me, could do something like that.

“How could he do that?” I whisper, secondhand anger starting to cloud my mind.

“Oh,” Beau says carelessly and waves a hand around. “Because he’s an idiot whose favorite defense mechanism is avoidance.”

Another punch. That sounds like someone I know... me. I’m like that too. Now. After the pain, that’s who I became.

“It was hard at the time, especially for Mom, but then Finn and I figured out why he did it.”

“Why?” I ask, desperate for him to reveal some redeeming qualities about the man I sleep next to every night.

“Because he was fourteen and suddenly the man of the house. He knew Mom hadn’t worked in a long time, and with Dad gone, someone would have to provide for us. Even though he knew we had a big-ass family to help. He still figured, well, I better make this hockey thing work .”

I . . . can’t. What?

Holy shit, this is... different , I remind myself. It’s very different to what happened with Max. But still, a new stab of guilt pierces my ego .

“How did—uh,” I stammer. What the hell am I supposed to say to that?

I’ve just gone through the most intense roller coaster of emotions in my life, and that includes the month when I found out Dad had dementia and Mom had cancer.

This is too much.

“So we forgave him,” Beau continues, unaware of how he just blew my heart up into a million pieces. “Without even saying it, we just did it. We supported him, and so did Mom. That’s what siblings do,” he says, frowning at me like he thinks I’m slow, but then he shrugs. “We better get this done. I’m starving.”

Just like that, the conversation is over.

I hurry around the table to set it up the way Charlie likes and then tell myself to act normal. I still have to apologize to Finn himself, and my goal of making a good impression on them is still important. But throughout dinner, it’s like I’m out of my body. Like I can act as I usually would and say all the things I’d normally say, but in reality I’m detached.

Even when Lou freaks out when he finds out he’s going to meet Sterling tonight and not only see him in concert, I’m not able to really feel the tenderness his words would normally have brought out in me.

It’s not until we’re at the concert, hearing Sterling belt out one of his greatest hits, that I snap out of it, and it’s all thanks to Charlie.

We’re right at the front, and he brushes the back of his hand against mine for only a second, but the touch is firm enough to be deliberate.

I look over at him and find his eyes on me. They’re searching for something, and I smile to reassure him.

He noticed, then.

Looks like I’m not going to be able to fool him.

The concert helps me put it away—for now, I know I won’t be able to avoid it forever—so a couple of hours later we walk through the lobby of the hotel to get to the elevators, and I feel like myself again when I almost whine at the sight of a group of people gathering to take our pictures, ask for autographs.

They’re tourists, of course—local fans know better.

They don’t seem to care that I ask them not to touch me, or to step back. Charlie agrees to sign anything they thrust at him, and I take the out and step away while the mob focuses on him. It’s then that I see a little kid, wearing a Pirates sweater, off to the side. He’s holding a hat and a marker and trying to see over all the adults surrounding my boyfriend.

“Hey,” I call out. He turns and I crouch before signaling him to come closer. His eyes wide, he runs over and just stands there. “You want me to sign that?” I ask in a gentle tone. I don’t want to scare him.

“Yes, thank you Mr. Brotnik,” he says and there’s so much pure happiness in his words, on his face, that I have to smile back .

“You can call me Santa,” I whisper and take the cap and sign it.

“Thank you,” he shouts. “I’m going to the game tomorrow,” he tells me, excited beyond anything I’ve seen in a long time. It makes me miss the times when I did interact with fans. The kids are cool, it’s the adults who ruin everything.

“That is so cool. What is your name?”

“Jason.”

“I will look for you in the stands, Jason,” I tell him conspiratorially, then wink to his delight.

I stand and pat his head, then walk over to Charlie and snap at the people still surrounding him.

“Okay, that’s enough.” I just grab his shoulders and pull him away to the elevator banks where his brothers and Lou are standing, waiting for us.

“Wait, you guys are coming too?” Lou asks when we step into the elevator with them. I tense at his question, wondering if Charlie’s going to tell them about my suite, but I should’ve known better.

“Yes,” Charlie says simply. I relax and swipe my card on the reader to be able to press the button to my floor, then press on the twelfth one as well where their rooms are.

“They need to be up super early tomorrow for morning skate,” Finn explains to his date. “And they’re going to save sleep time if they make the drive in the morning instead of now. ”

Yes, and this time we did bring Charlie’s SUV, so no cab will be necessary.

“It’s way past my bedtime,” Charlie says and yawns wide. A sudden burst of affection for him blooms inside me. He’s kind of adorable in all his handsome glory, yawning like a tired toddler.

“We’ll see you tomorrow,” Beau mumbles when the elevator stops at their floor, and he walks out with Finn and Lou behind him.

Charlie takes my hand, then interlaces our fingers and leans up on his toes to whisper in my ear.

“I’m not really that tired.”

I smirk at him and stop myself from kissing him, because if I start, I won’t stop. It’s been too damn long.

We take a quick shower, though the image my mind conjures up of Charlie in the tub is enticing. I decide we can do that some other day.

Tonight I just need to feel close to him.

So once we’re under the covers, kissing in the middle of the mattress, I focus on enjoying every second. Every kiss, every brush of his hand over my skin, and every new reaction I can get out of him.

His fascination with my ass betrays him once more.

I thrust my hard cock against his, and he reaches over to grab a handful of my ass and squeezes hard. I like it. I like how strong he is, how he can move me around without breaking a sweat—if I let him, of course, but why would I not?

It feels fucking amazing to be engulfed in his arms, to feel his erection hard against my thigh, to know he wants me. Me .

“Can I try something?” I whisper against his lips.

“What?” he asks, breathless.

I lean back and reach for the lotion I left on the nightstand, then come right back, pour some on my hand, and scoot a little lower on the bed so our dicks line up.

“This,” I tell him, right when I grip us both in my fist.

“Fuck,” he hisses, and rests his forehead on the crown of my head. With the covers shifted until they’re below our hips, I can see everything.

The contrast between our skins captures my attention for a moment, but then I move my hand and the friction makes me lose my mind.

“Nik,” he moans, his hand going back to my ass. It’s a bit further, and he can’t reach as easily, so I stop, push him onto his back, straddle him, and line us up again.

I lean on my hand next to his head and kiss him once more, wanting to feel those moans right on my lips. Then I start stroking us again, faster this time.

I tighten my grip, and falter at how fucking amazing it feels. It only gets better when Charlie reaches back again, and squeezes my ass tighter .

“So good,” I mumble and get into it, thrusting my hips just enough to help with the friction.

“Faster, Nik,” he whines, and I comply. This time I can’t hold back. This time?—

One of his fingers slips into my crease and just the thought of him being inside me, of him slipping that finger into me, drives me insane. I lose myself in the movements, the race to make us come.

“Sweetheart,” I groan, when I’m right there. I don’t know how he knows, but he does. He inches his finger closer to my hole, and right when it brushes against my rim I explode, and he follows me the next second as I’m riding the wave of pleasure.

I can’t stop myself from falling on top of him this time, and though he groans, there are no protests out of him. The only sounds in the room are our panting breaths, and it takes me five solid minutes to be able to move off him.

I wince when I do. The sticky mess we made means we’ll have to shower again.

Oh well, not like I’m going to complain about seeing Charlie wet and naked. Never.

“Shower?” I ask, still sounding out of breath.

“Yeah,” he says, also winded, but then he lets out a delighted laugh that has me smiling as I turn to him.

“What?”

“You liked it when I touched your ass, huh?”

“Yes,” I confirm without shame.

“Would you like—I mean.” He stumbles over his words, then stops. Instead of starting again, he sits and gets out of bed.

“What is it, Charlie?” I ask, though I have a suspicion. He walks around the bed and then stops, turns back, paces for a second.

I see he’s almost distressed, not really having a great time with his thoughts, but all I can focus on is the fact that his dick is still covered in jizz. It’s only natural that I snicker.

Of course his reaction is inevitable too. He gives me that pissed stare and I raise my arms in defense.

“I just think we should clean up so you don’t get all”—I wave a hand at his crotch—“crusty.”

He looks down, as if only then remembering the mess he’s in.

“Right, yeah,” he mumbles then walks back into the bathroom.

I take my time joining him, figuring he could use the time to get his thoughts in order.

He wants to talk about anal. I get it.

It could be an awkward conversation, I get that too, but it won’t be.

If the way I came when he touched my rim is any indication, my body’s all for it, and I am too, if I’m honest.

I think it could be fun.

And I have heard great things about prostates. I always figured I’d let a woman peg me at some point but this seems like a better plan .

Having come to that conclusion, I open the shower door and step in, out of patience. I have very little of it to begin with unless it’s about making Charlie come, but he already took all there was.

“I want you to fuck me eventually, sweetheart,” I tell him to get it out of the way.

“You do?” he asks, spinning around way too fast considering the slippery surface we’re on.

I grab onto his shoulders when he starts to tip, and then snap at him.

“Be careful.”

He frowns at me but nods. “Yeah, sorry.”

“Sorry for startling you,” I grumble.

“It’s fine,” he says softly, like he has a million things going through his head. I’m more simple-minded than him. I just came to a conclusion and I’m going with it, but he has to give everything more thought, consider all the possibilities.

At least that’s what I’ve gathered from getting to know him off the ice. I guess I could be wrong. It’s only been over a month.

“I’m just surprised,” he says finally.

“Why?” I scoff. “I came like a volcano when you touched my ass.”

He stares at me open-mouthed for a moment, and I just move him to the side while he recovers so I can get under the spray as well.

I hear his laugh echo loudly when the water’s cascading down my body, and again, I can’t stop from smiling at the sound. I love his laugh. So deep and genuine.

“You just seem like more of a top,” he says finally.

“You done?” I ask, gesturing to the shower. He nods so I turn it off and step out.

“I don’t know about you but I’m intrigued by it.” I continue the conversation, and start drying myself again.

“I’m not sure, honestly.”

“Well, you never have to find out if you don’t want to, but I want to. So maybe we can work on that?” I ask with a waggle of my brows.

“Okay,” he says with a little laugh. I’m glad he’s happy with that.

“Awesome, then next time you blow me you can try sticking a finger up my ass.”

I get exactly what I wanted, his booming laugh.