Page 10 of Breakaway Goals

Hayes opened his mouth, to ask again, to maybe suggest something even crazier, which was that they should continue this inside the privacy of his room, but before he could, a door way down the hall slammed shut.

Morgan sprang back, eyes wild. Like he’d just gotten caught, even though they hadn’t actually done a goddamn thing.

“I should go,” Morgan said and looked like he regretted the words the moment they came out of his mouth. “It’s late. The game. Tomorrow. Finland.”

Hayes’ tongue felt thick and swollen in his mouth, his brain even more sluggish. “Yeah.” For a semi-insane split second, he considered again inviting Morgan into his room. But he didn’t. “Alright.”

Morgan turned and, without a word, headed back down the hallway towards the elevator.

Hayes waited one second, then two until he was almost out of sight down the long hallway before he pulled the keycard out of his pocket, opening his door.

Then proceeded to flop down on the bed and scream loudly into his pillow.

Why hadn’t he just said it? Morgan hadn’t seemed freaked out by their closeness, only by the possibility they might be discovered, which frankly, was more likely than not, considering where they’d been.

Hayes rolled over. Wondered if he should call Zach. It was late. And what would Zach even say? Geez, dude, you totally just whiffed. And with Morgan freaking Reynolds. You’ve only adored him forever.

Because Morgan had been right. There’d been two posters. One above his bed, the other across from it.

He might have more chances, but Hayes wasn’t sure that was true. This tournament wasn’t that long and then it would be over and their only reasons to see each other would be when the Mavs played the Bandits, twice a year.

Maybe he wouldn’t get another chance. Maybe that had been it, and he’d fucking blown it.

Hayes groaned. Leaned over to grab his phone from the charger, but before he could dial Zach, there was a muffled knock on his door.

Shit, it was probably Danny, too keyed up to sleep still. Hayes slid out of bed and padded to the door, pulling it open.

It was not Danny.

It was Morgan. He looked even wilder around the eyes.

“Can I . . .”

Hayes felt shocked into silence, and only pulled the door open farther, stepping back to let Morgan in.

The door shut behind him with a decisive click, leaving them in silence.

“I . . .” Morgan huffed out a breath. “You asked me what about now? And I never answered you.”

“Yeah?” Hayes gazed up at him. They were alone now, crowded into the little space by the door. He’d only turned on one light, the one by the bed, so it was dim, Morgan’s face shadowed.

If the hallway had felt intimate, this was so much more.

“Now you make me feel like . . .like this .” Morgan leaned in and, reaching down, cupped Hayes’ cheek before very carefully pressing their lips together.

Hayes had known it was coming from the moment he’d opened the door and Morgan was standing there. But he hadn’t realized the kiss would feel like a thousand fireworks exploding under his skin.

Or that Morgan would make this unbearably hot questioning groan in the back of his throat and kiss him deeper. Like one taste of Hayes wasn’t enough and he wanted more, so much more.

The way Morgan’s calloused fingertips stroked his cheek was both tender and erotic.

Hayes didn’t ever want to stop, no matter how insane this was, ignoring the laundry list of why this was a terrible idea, but then did something even more insane and pulled back.

He had to know, had to understand exactly what Morgan meant. If he somehow meant something that wasn’t this, that wasn’t Hayes pulling Morgan to his bed and pinning him to the mattress, he needed to know now , before he fell even deeper into this Morgan-sized hole.

“Like what?”

Morgan stared at him like he was insane, wanting it spelled out, when they’d just been kissing and they could keep kissing. Part—the dick part, mostly, but not entirely—of Hayes agreed with him.

“Are you serious right now?” Morgan sounded a little exasperated and a lot fond.

Hayes stuck to his ground, even though he nearly just leaned in and kissed him again. “Yes. I don’t want you to like . . .I don’t know . . .panic about this.”

“Do I look like I’m panicking?” Morgan’s tone wasn’t accusatory but almost gentle.

No. He did not. It seemed like Morgan Reynolds wasn’t just an overachiever when it came to hockey, but to sexual awakenings too, because he seemed steady about it.

“No?” It was only then that Hayes thought that maybe the NHL gossip train had let him down and despite his belief to the contrary, he wasn’t Morgan’s first guy. “But maybe, I’m not . . .maybe you’ve done this before?”

“Never wanted to kiss a guy before you.” Morgan’s lips quirked up into a surprisingly soft smile. “Guess Danny wasn’t totally wrong about a secret crush.”

Not a hard-on. Not just wanting to hook up. But a secret crush .

How was Hayes supposed to do anything but kiss Morgan after that?

As Hayes pushed him back against the wall, Morgan going easily, their lips meeting again, everything short-circuited into an endless cycle of yes-more-yes-more as their mouths moved together.

Morgan felt even more solid than he did on the ice, muscles tensing and then relaxing as Hayes pressed him into the wall.

But even though he wanted to lose his head, he kept his hips back.

Despite that Morgan seemed unnaturally chill about the whole kissing a guy thing, he wasn’t going to be the one to shove his increasingly hard dick against Morgan’s.

And why would he even need to when just the kissing was so damn good?

Morgan made that same aborted groan again, tongue in Hayes’ mouth now, and them making out—Morgan’s hand back on his cheek and Hayes’ fingers pressed into his broad shoulders—was in the top five hottest moments of his whole life.

Pulling away, Morgan stared at him, like he was a defense he needed to solve. Hayes’ breath was coming in short pants and he nearly chased Morgan’s mouth with his own.

They didn’t need to stop. They could keep going just like this.

But that was Morgan’s other hand reaching out and taking his. Leading him deeper into the room.

He had two queens—one clearly occupied, from the way the pillows and comforter were mussed from his aborted screaming session—and the other pristine.

Morgan couldn’t have had more than one brief look, because his gaze was glued to Hayes the whole time, but he guided them to the bed Hayes had already been using.

Sat on the edge and pulled Hayes in between his spread legs. Kissed him again.

It was a really good move. Smooth and sexy and earnest. All of Hayes’ insides jellified, and he didn’t feel any shame about it, because Morgan had to feel his dick, pressed against his thigh, and hadn’t flinched away from it yet.

Once the realization crossed Hayes’ syrupy-slow brain, he found it increasingly difficult to stop himself from just humping Morgan’s thick, muscular thigh.

But he hadn’t confirmed yet that they were actually getting off. Morgan hadn’t made any moves to do anything but kiss him, even if he was kissing him as thoroughly as Hayes had been kissed in years .

His hands were firm, wrapped around Hayes’ waist, and he hadn’t moved them an inch. They hadn’t drifted down, even to a PG-13-rated area, even though Hayes had been told multiple times that he had one of the best asses in hockey.

If all this was the world’s hottest make-out session—like surface of the sun, concrete in the middle of a Jersey summer kind of hot—then Hayes wasn’t going to complain about it.

Morgan made that tiny groan in the back of his throat again, like Hayes was unwinding him, one hot press of their mouths at a time, everything spit slick and intense, and then his lips slipped away, down his neck.

Before this moment, Hayes wouldn’t have said his neck was particularly sensitive, but he couldn’t help the long, liquid moan that left him when Morgan found the one spot that lit him up inside.

“God,” Morgan murmured roughly, “you’re so fucking hot.”

Hayes lost the fight with himself and pressed his cock more firmly against Morgan’s thigh even as Morgan sank his teeth into that spot.

There’d probably be a mark there in the morning.

Any other time, with any other guy, Hayes would be all up in his head about that, but right now he couldn’t find it in himself to give a shit.

Not when it felt so goddamn good. Or maybe it was because Morgan’s hands had finally drifted lower and he was squeezing Hayes’ ass now, going straight from PG to X-rated.

Hayes dug his fingers into Morgan’s hair, dragging him back to his mouth, the kiss turning hot and filthy.

But even though Hayes was increasingly feeling like he was on a hair trigger, like he might just spontaneously come in his pants from how goddamn sexy Morgan was when he was growling under his breath, ten fingertips digging into his ass, tongue halfway down Hayes’ throat, a minute ticked by and then another where he didn’t escalate.

Hayes wasn’t precious; he’d been idling, waiting for the go-ahead, but if he didn’t do something, coming in his pants wasn’t just a possibility, it was an inevitability.

And if he only got one shot at Morgan Reynolds, he wanted to at least touch his dick and maybe if he was really lucky, Morgan would reciprocate.

But clearly if he wasn’t the one pushing them forward, it wasn’t going to happen. Hayes couldn’t even be that surprised by it. Sure, Morgan was most definitely not having a gay freakout, but he was also new to this.

Hayes was not.

He slid a hand down from Morgan’s shoulders to his chest, to his abs, tucking it under his sweatshirt for a moment, feeling rather than hearing Morgan’s hiss as he touched bare skin.

Morgan leaned back a fraction, moving one hand from his ass to the bed, resting back against it. Hayes considered chasing his lips but decided maybe for this it was best if they weren’t actively eating each other’s faces off.