Page 83 of Forbidden Hockey

“I’ve been keeping mental notes about how certain things affect you. I dreamed of doing them—this. I dreamed of doing this to you all season. Got me through a lot of missing you.”

“Did you really miss me that much?”

Trav buries his face into my neck. “Dirk, I thought my heart was gonna seize. Being apart is painful.”

“I’m in love with you, Travis,” I whisper, and it carries across the cool night air, breezing in from the window.

He traces fingers over my sweat-slick skin as if he’s committing me to memory, like he wants to etch this moment into his bones. He places my hand over his heart, the burning fire within him, and his breathing slows. “I love you so goddamn much, Dirk.”

Trav places a tender kiss on my crown, which seems the antithesis of what we just did. This wasn’t just sex; it was a fucking reclaiming. He rebranded himself into me—a mark of ownership and a vow. That’s … kinda perfect. I own you, but, like, with love. I snuggle further into him.

“Do you think the fact that I tried to stay away from you’ll hold up in court?”

“I’m an adult, babe. The court doesn’t have a say.”

“The court of public opinion does. Do you know what they think of guys like me?”

The world falls out of my stomach. I know what they think of the older person in a relationship like ours. They’ll call him a predator. Hell, I know what my brother thinks about Travis, and it’s not fucking nice.

“And…” He huffs. “It’s the last thing I wanna bring up, but what makes me better than that asshole who did what he did to my son?”

“Consent, Trav.”

“I believe you’re consenting, but people will say ugly things, and I can’t blame them. I know what I’d think from the outside, too.”

I sigh against his chest, all of it hitting me hard. I don’t want people looking at Trav that way.

“Even though I wish we could tell everyone, I’m fine for us to stay private, forever if need be. It’s important to me that no one’s a dick about this to you, Trav. And, hey, if I never have to tell Hunter, that’s a huge perk. Hell, we can be that couple who moves to live on a ranch together as ‘friends’,” I say with air quotes around friends. “And never tell a fucking soul.”

“That bad with Hunter, eh?”

“We had the biggest fight we’ve had since before we moved away from Mom.” And I don’t feel like talking about it. Thankfully, Trav can read me pretty well by now, and leaves it.

“How you feeling? You ready for round two?” he says, changing the subject.

“Aren’t you supposed to be the one with the slow refractory period?”

“I take care of myself, pretty boy,” he says, fondling my nuts in a way that pools unchallenged arousal in my belly. His grip has that controlling quality to it, one that says, “I fucking own your ass” and fuckinggodit undoes me.

“Am I still allowed to make old people jokes at your expense?”

“Depends. Do you like orgasms or not?”

Fuck. My breath. Gone. Just fucking gone. My heart races. “Noted.”

“But just so you know, as much as I love fucking you, I love lying with you too, just like this.” He groans. “This is gonna be hard. You leave tomorrow.”

Didn’t think about that. I’ve finally got what I want, and it’s better than my imagination could conjure, now I’ve gotta leave it?

“You should attend more of your son’s games,” I lecture, because it’ll benefit me.

“When they’re in Canada. I have a criminal record. Leaving the country is tough. I’ve been denied entry to the US.”

Right. I’m in love with a criminal.

“But even if I could, I haven’t followed Dash around the country for his games. It would be weird if I suddenly started now.”

Yeah, I guess it would. I hold him tighter. “Then I guess we’ll have to find other ways to keep in touch.”