Page 56 of Forbidden Hockey

How’s Trav gonna handle it?

“Not my son, Turner.”

“No? Sweet. That mean I can get your number, Dirk? I didn’t ask outta respect, but if he’s not?—”

Some people might call Turner unprofessional, but it’s the best thing that’s happened this morning. The only way to fix the universal level fuck up that took place is to make Trav even more jealous than he already was.

“Dirk’s not available,” Trav says. “Get the fuck out. We’ll take it from here.”

“Um … did I do something?”

“Out!”

Turner does get the fuck out, and Trav glares at his back, probably contemplating murder, as Turner hightails it out the back where he came. Trav moves into the space Turner just left, as if he has to erase every trace of him.

“Fucking dude math,” he mutters.

Now that he’s gone, I can laugh freely at Turner’s expense. But Trav’s not laughing, he’s eyeing the stack of knives.

Um, okay. I should do something about that.

“Trav?” I reach for him; the graze of my hand sets him off.Slam!I’m pinned to the wall, his large form crowding over me, my heart thudding in my chest.

“Take the hat off, pretty boy,” he says slow and dangerous. “Your ass belongs to me, understand?”

Oh god, tingles. Explosions. Body on fire. He’s terrifying, and it’s hot as fuck. I nod, unable to speak. He knocks it off my head for me and then proceeds to consume me with his lips. I go pliant beneath his rock-solid body. Maybe there’s something wrong with me because I love the years of experience I can feel in his touches. I’ve been with guys my age, and even some a little older, but they’re all missing the kind of dominance that comes with years of practice. Travis is wild like younger guys are, but it’s the difference between being just another male lion and the head of the pride.

A possessive hand scratches its way up my shirt and over my abdominal wall. My abs clench with the delicious pleasure of that touch and the way it completely owns me. Even though I expected him to go the other way—keep his distance—this makes more sense. Trav is an all-or-nothing kind of guy. You’re his or you’re not, there’s no in-between.

I am so fucking here for being his.

My hips buck against his crotch, grazing over the hardness there. He wants me. He wants me so damn badly. Will he do it? Rip down my jeans and take my ass right here? I don’t want to ask or beg. I just want him to do it. I want him to be so feral for me that he can’t hold back.

He doesn’t.

After a kiss that leaves me wondering what planet I’m on, he pulls away. “Glad we cleared that up.” He smacks my ass. “Now help me organize these.”

“What? Oh, c’mon. Tell me you don’t wanna sink your dick in me, Trav, and I’ll call you a damn liar. Why are you making me wait?”

He laughs, knowing that he holds all the cards on that one. He does. I’ll wait till he decides it’s time because it’s how I’m wired and who I am. Doesn’t mean I won’t do my best to fucking tempt him.

There’s no more hair to brush off my face after my haircut, but Trav mimics doing it as if he misses it there, his callused fingers—fingers that have probably broken bones—touching me with tenderness that feels like worship. “I have patience. It’s something you develop at my age.”

Smug fucker.

“Yeah, well, you can develop blue balls at any age, just sayin’.” But I resign myself to the fact that I’m not getting what I want. I kind of like that. It feels strict in some way. Is that my kink? I dunno, but I like the subtle control. “I have to see Hunt tomorrow. He’s gonna tell me off. FYI.”

“F … Y … I?”

“For your infor—fuck off. You know what that means.”

He laughs. “Yeah, just fucking with you. I’m notthatold, and I spend too much time in this restaurant.”

The restaurant industry is dominated by mostly twenty and thirty-somethings. It’s typical to become a manager in your early twenties. Trav tries to keep up with us. The hostees are even younger, and I have a hard time with some of their new lingo. Honestly, I bet Trav knows more of it than I do.

“Wait,” I say before he pulls off me. I bring him back, luxuriating in the solid feel of him.Do we look as natural as Stace and Dash do?“I thought after the ‘your son’ comment, you’d be hands off.”

“I internally cringed, but that’s our future if we keep this up. If I’m not going to find a way to get used to it, I have nobusiness doing this with you. And you know? All I had to do was take one look at you and imagine you with anyone else. It made swallowing a comment like that easy. It’s only the beginning, but I already know I don’t want you with anyone but me.”