Page 35 of Forbidden Hockey

“You need me for something, bud?” I raise a brow, doing my best to look fatherly. Something I’ve worked hard to master, butI don’t know how fatherly a guy like me can look—a skin wall of tattoos, constant five o’clock shadow, dark hair, and eyes that have seen too much bad shit to beam even a little sunshine.

He’s thinking about something as his lips twist, but he finally shakes his head. “Not a big deal, just my love life. I’m still seeing Syd.”

Right. Syd. How long’s this one gonna last? It’s not that I don’t like Syd, I just don’t think he’s right for my boy. I’m being unfair, too. Haven’t met the guy, but he’s so much older. Shouldn’t my boy be dating someone closer in age?

And yet still not nearly as much older as you are than the man you’re lusting over.

If I remind myself of that often enough, someday the fucking ache in my chest will go away, taking the equally annoying ache in my dick with it.

“Is Syd a guy I’m gonna meet?” I ask, going for “supportive” versus “overprotective father”, even though I damn well am an overprotective father. But my son’s as stubborn as I am. If I push him away from Syd, it’ll drive him toward Syd.

“Yeah. Maybe. I think so.” He smiles, but it’s not all the way to his eyes.

There’s a knock at the door. I know that knock. Dirk steps into the office.

My body washes with tingles, and it takes all my willpower not to walk over there and stake my claim on him. I’m not a coward, but you’d never know it from the goddamn haste I fled to my office earlier. I exist in a constant state of need for him, but I’ve usually got a good handle on it. At least enough to be near him without being a thread away from sinking my cock into him.

But this morning.

He must have trained harder this season, because the way his thick hockey physique fills out his black cotton chef’s coat now should be illegal. He knows it, too. The fucking tease. Tauntingme. Relentless. All the while, his demeanor dark with the kind of defiance I wanna fuck out of him, but not so thoroughly that it goes away forever. No, just enough that it comes back, so I can fuck it away again.

Fuck me. Why am I so drawn to him? It wasn’t always like this—thank god. I was always protective of him, and didn’t love him going on dates, because he seemed to pick the guys who looked like they belonged in the motorcycle club I distanced myself from. It wasn’t until he hit his twenties that things changed for me. Was like someone hit me in the head, rearranging my brain chemistry, and from then on, it’s been hell on earth.

Him in that slutty-ass kitchen jacket doesn’t help. Dirk’s tall, at least six feet, but a couple of inches shorter than me. He’s actually sporting a bit of hockey hair for once, but only because the season just ended. As soon as he meets up with his brother for their post-season dinner, it’ll be short again. Sometimes he gets it cut before that dinner, which is a shame. I fucking love his longer hair. Would make it easier to?—

Yeah, no. Not going there.

Dash’s head whips around, and he frowns. “Oh, thought you were gonna be Stace. Where is he?”

“The flower delivery arrived, and he’s helping thecutenew delivery boy.” There’s way too much emphasis put on the word “cute”. I suppress a growl.

Dash’s frown turns to a scowl. “The fuck he is. Sorry, Dad. You’ll have to excuse me.” Dash is up so fast, abandoning his paper coffee cup. “Oh, and you were wrong, Dirk. Dad is planning on finding love on his trip.”

He tosses that behind him. Awesome. Just enough to get me in shit.

But Dirk’s busy staring after him like the cat who got the cream. Did he get rid of Dash on purpose? Something happenedthere, but I know how cute that delivery boy is, and I don’t love that Dirk’s noticed. I clear my throat, and he spins around. His eyes land on my now-empty ceramic mug and flick to the paper cup I’m holding.

“How’s the coffee, Trav?”

“I miss the layer of skin the roof of my mouth used to have,” I admit, letting him fill in the blanks.

“You didn’t have to do that; he wouldn’t have crumbled if you’d had to warm up the cup he gave you later.”

I grunt acknowledgment, but fuck that. I’d do it again. “Need something?” I won’t be standing up, my erection’s too painful.

“Is what Dash said true?” he asks, arms crossed, his biceps straining the sleeves of his jacket. He’s a whore in that jacket.

“And what if it is?” I test. Something’s gotta give. I’m the adult here; I’m the one who should put a stop to our nonsense.

“Then I’m fucking coming with you.”

God, his eyes are pretty when they’re filled with that kind of fire. Sends a shiver of arousal right to my cock. That’s the other thing about Dirk, he’s not my type. I like smaller men. Pretty men. Like the delivery guy. The only thing pretty about Dirk is his eyes. Maybe those pouty lips, too. But the rest of him is masculine as fuck.

I don’t answer him fast enough. He takes long, purpose-filled strides over to my desk and plants his hands on it, leaning over.

There isn’t much that scares me, but Dirk’s definitely on the short list. Right at the top with “shit that could happen to my son”. I don’t know who I’ll be if I let my urges take over, and every time we’re together, my resolve is tested. Fuck, I can smell him. I want him so damn badly. My fingers curl around the arms of my chair.

“I don’t know where you go every summer, and I’ve never asked out of respect for your privacy,” he says, voice low, “andI’ve always suspected it’s more than a guy’s weekend away. I doubt you want me to follow you.”