Page 49 of Breakaway Goals

“Whatever,” Morgan said, waving a hand. “I don’t give a fuck. I really, really don’t. I want to be here with you. I want to take you out. Spoil you. Treat you the way you deserve. And that includes romantic dinners. It probably also includes beer and wings at some point. But not tonight.”

“You really don’t care?” Hayes said. And there was the smile Morgan had hoped to see.

“I really, really don’t care,” Morgan said. Didn’t know how else to prove it other than the fact that he was here, right now, and they weren’t hiding that they were about to enjoy a pretty romantic dinner.

But Hayes didn’t seem to need more proof. He smiled again, more gently this time, and it was he who reached out and squeezed Morgan’s forearm. “This is honestly so great. I didn’t . . .I didn’t expect it, and that makes it even better.”

“Stupid.” Morgan smiled back at him. “You should expect it.”

Hayes tilted his head. “Guess you aren’t afraid of setting the bar too high.”

He was actually sweating about it, already, but he wasn’t going to tell Hayes that. “Of course not. Have I ever been afraid of setting the bar too high?”

He knew what Hayes would think; that Morgan was the same about this as he was about hockey. But he was not. He was absolutely fucking not.

Hayes actually giggled, clearly delighted. “Never.”

“Exactly.”

He wanted to say, actually, you scare the shit out of me, because I’ve never aced you, not like I’ve always aced hockey.

Morgan would, someday, but not tonight. He picked up his menu. “So what’s good here?” he asked. Even though he’d spent the hour after assembling the conversational topic list examining the online menu and trying to decide what would be the best “first date” entree to order.

This was actually why he hadn’t told Danny, because Danny would tell him that he was a freak and that he couldn’t control everything.

But so far, he was doing a pretty good job of it, and Hayes was smiling, still, lit up from within, and if Morgan could make him look like that at least seventy-five percent of the time—one hundred was an impossible standard he knew not to wish for—he would take it.

“Oh, the mahi-mahi’s really good, and so is the sea bass,” Hayes said. “Do you want to get wine?”

“Are you going to get wine?” Morgan had done his research. Despite his behavior the other night at the party, he knew Hayes rarely drank during the season.

“Probably not, but you can,” Hayes offered generously. “I was going to suggest some pairings, if you wanted to get the fish. I know a few of their whites are good.”

And this right here was why Morgan had gone out of his way to plan this date. If he hadn’t, if they’d done the same shit they had back six years ago, hockey and beer and sex, he’d never have known this about Hayes.

He wanted to know everything about Hayes. Not just the obvious things. Not just the things that everyone else knew.

“Sure,” Morgan said, even though he wasn’t really a big wine guy. He just wanted to hear Hayes ramble on about it.

And he did, for the next five minutes, sounding knowledgeable enough that Morgan was both charmed and took one of his suggestions, ordering a glass of the sauvignon blanc from New Zealand when the waiter arrived.

Morgan also ordered the shrimp cocktail and regretted it when it arrived, because watching Hayes de-tail it with his fingers and then lick them clean of cocktail sauce made his pants tight.

Made him wish that he hadn’t been quite so quick to declare they weren’t going to be having sex, especially when he caught a glimpse of Hayes’ pink tongue, darting out to lick sauce off his thumb.

Morgan remembered, a little too well, exactly what that tongue felt like.

He couldn’t regret it too much, though, not when this dinner seemed to be going so well.

After its inauspicious start, they’d actually had no trouble talking.

Morgan had told himself firmly, when he’d compiled his conversational topic list, that he wouldn’t focus too hard on hockey.

And they did talk about it, both Morgan’s work with the media, and the Sentinels, but it felt natural.

Right. Avoiding it would have been weirder.

It had been going so well, Morgan had almost gotten lulled into a state of complacency. Almost .

Then, after they finished their dinner, Hayes took a long drink of his sparkling water, pinned Morgan with the most earnest look in his green-eyed arsenal and said, “I guess you didn’t ghost me because you were afraid of looking too gay, then.”

“Is that what you thought?” Morgan heard the shock in his voice.

Hayes crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair. “It wasn’t a wild assumption that you might’ve freaked out about it.”

Morgan could not believe this. Of course, they’d both screwed up the end of their fling. Mostly him, but not entirely him. Still, that hadn’t even really been a thought that crossed his mind.

“Did I seem like I freaked out about it?” Morgan pushed back.

“No . . .but then you did ghost me.”

“Not because I was worried about the closet,” Morgan spluttered.

“You were worried about hockey. About legacy. That could’ve been part of it.” Hayes tilted his head. “And the way people act behind closed doors, in the bedroom, doesn’t necessarily mean they’re willing to be upfront about their desires in public.”

Morgan wondered if anyone had ever been shitty to Hayes like that. Happy enough to fuck him in private, but just bros in public. If that was true, he was going to kick that person’s ass.

“What I did on the ice stands on its own,” Morgan said firmly. “If they want to think less of me because who I want, who I love, then that’s their own problem.”

Hayes’ face softened. He was almost smiling again.

“And,” Morgan continued, “my son is gay. I’ve never been anything less than fully accepting of Finn.”

“Finn isn’t you, though,” Hayes pointed out.

“I do get why you might’ve thought that,” Morgan said, wondering when he would ever stop kicking himself for just leaving instead of being honest. But honesty had felt so impossible six years ago.

“But no. No . That wasn’t part of it. I knew I only had a few years left, if I was lucky, and you threw me for a major loop.

I said it before, and it was true. I’d have done something insane.

That was the issue, not that you were a guy. ”

“So what you’re saying is that if I did this . . .” Hayes reached out and slowly took Morgan’s hand, squeezing it. “It’d be okay?”

“Anytime you want to touch me, I’m not ever going to argue,” Morgan scoffed. “I know you don’t believe me, but I’m yours , angel.”

“You can’t say shit like that.” Hayes flushed.

“Why not?”

Hayes shot him a knowing look. “You know why.”

“I’m just being honest.” Morgan lifted their hands and pressed a kiss to Hayes’ knuckles. “You ready for dessert?”

“Dessert?” Hayes perked up, then schooled his expression into something more serious. “I shouldn’t, though, it’s not on the meal plan . . .”

“Don’t worry about that. I ordered something special, in advance.”

Hayes looked floored, again. “You did?” he asked incredulously.

“Angel, I keep telling you—you can’t be surprised when I spoil you. You deserve spoiling.”

From the way Hayes’ mouth tilted up in a warm smile, Morgan hoped that he was starting to believe it.

The waiter brought the dessert, a dark chocolate mousse, fruit scattered across its glossy surface, and two spoons.

Morgan had patted himself on the back for thinking in advance of a dessert that Hayes could enjoy without guilt.

What he hadn’t anticipated was how painful it was going to be watching Hayes lick chocolate mousse off a spoon, knowing that when he dropped Hayes off at his house, he was only allowing himself one goodbye kiss.

“You alright?” Hayes asked in a teasing voice as Morgan settled the check.

The brat knew exactly what he’d been doing to Morgan, and he was enjoying it.

Morgan huffed out a breath, reminding himself that, if he did things right , if he was good and thoughtful, he would get to have sex with Hayes Montgomery for the rest of his life.

When he thought about it like that, it was easy enough to swallow hard, put his lust away, and lead Hayes away from their table, their hands intertwined together.

There’d been a second where Hayes nearly dropped his, but Morgan had hung on, shooting him a look.

Hayes shrugged, like, if you insist , and yes, yes , Morgan insisted.

By the time they made it back to Hayes’ house, Morgan’s palms were sweating. The nerves were back. He’d kissed Hayes plenty. But he’d never imagined that a kiss would have to be A Kiss , enough to make Hayes want more.

Enough to make Hayes want to do this again.

To give Morgan another chance and another and another.

He pulled into Hayes’ driveway. Hayes shot him a little coy glance. “You wanna come in?”

Oh, he wanted to. But he knew if he did, there was no way he was stopping at a single kiss.

“I . . .uh . . .I probably shouldn’t.”

Hayes laughed softly but didn’t move. Okay, they were doing this. Morgan psyched himself up, unbuckling his seat belt and walking all the way around the car to open the passenger door.

Of course opening Hayes’ door for him and reaching out with a hand to help him up only made him think a whole bunch of inappropriate caveman thoughts.

Then Hayes glanced up at him, affection and desire in his green eyes, and the thoughts screamed insistently.

“Unfortunately, I don’t have any keys to twirl,” Hayes said in a low conspiratorial voice as they reached his front door. “Do you think—

Morgan didn’t let him finish. Tugged him in by his arm and kissed him.

Hayes’ mouth was hot and sweet on his, the remnants of chocolate on his tongue, and Morgan groaned at the back of his throat as he backed them into the door.

He’d told himself he’d get one really good kiss, and maybe if he just kept kissing Hayes, if one kiss just spun out and out and out, it would still count as only one.

Hayes’ fingers dug into his shoulders, one hand slipping up to the back of his head, tangling in Morgan’s hair and holding him in place.

Made it easy to think they were on the same page.

But sooner than Morgan wanted, Hayes tilted his face away and broke the kiss. Morgan was addicted to how breathless he sounded and the way his pupils swallowed all the green in his eyes. The unmistakable press of his hard dick against Morgan’s thigh.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come in?” Hayes asked.

“No,” Morgan said, laughing. “But I really shouldn’t. You know it, too.”

“It was your idea,” Hayes protested, chuckling too.

“Yeah, but I was right. We . . .we can do the sex thing. Really, really well. No issues on that front. The rest of this . . .” Just because tonight had gone well didn’t mean all their dates would go like this. Morgan wasn’t naive enough to believe that was true.

“Zach made me promise that I wouldn’t freak out if tonight didn’t go well, but . . .” Hayes smiled up at him. “I shouldn’t have worried. You spoiled me. Made me feel special.”

“Just doing what I should’ve done six years ago,” Morgan said self-consciously, the honesty flaying him open. He wasn’t good at it, but he was trying .

“I like to think of it as we’re starting over,” Hayes said. “What do you think?”

Morgan considered this. Also considered if he could get away with kissing Hayes a second time.

“I like that,” he agreed.

Hayes patted him on the cheek. “Doesn’t mean you’re off the hook.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Morgan said earnestly. He knew exactly how much he had to make up for. He never wanted Hayes to look at him with that cold, dead-eyed stare ever again.

“Give me one more kiss,” Hayes said, batting his eyelashes and grinning.

“I—”

“I know,” Hayes said. “But bend your rules for me, baby.”

Like Morgan was ever going to be able to resist that . He leaned in and kissed Hayes again.

When they finally broke apart a second time, the leash on his self-control was tenuous and he already knew he was going to be tasting Hayes on his tongue for the rest of the night—and he wasn’t even bent out of shape about it.

“Well,” Hayes said breathlessly. “Goodnight.”

“I’ll call you,” Morgan promised.

“I know,” Hayes said and slipped through the door before they could throw the whole goddamn rulebook out the window.