Page 77 of Hotshot

Denny cocked his head, blissfully unaware of my inner turmoil. “I haven’t been on skis in ten years. I should get on that horse again, huh?”

“When you’re ready.”

“Not during season, though. There’s always a story about an idiot athlete doing something extra stupid, like breaking a bone snowboarding or spraining an ankle skateboarding on a day off. That won’t be me, but yeah, it would be cool to go skiing with you…someday.”

We rode in silence, side by side through the forest to the main trail, where a half moon lit the night in shades of indigo. And when the barn crested over the hill, Denny held his hand out. I didn’t hesitate. I reached for him, wordlessly threading our fingers. Holding hands while on horseback was a little awkward, but damn, it was kind of romantic.

No, no…wrong word. We weren’t a couple, and sweet sentiments didn’t belong here. We were just a couple of dudes with a side agenda who’d become very good friends.

Once we’d tended to Bess and Fred, we headed for the house and climbed the stairs. We undressed unhurriedly, pulled the sheets aside, and rolled to face each other. We’d been going at it fast and furiously for months now. What started as a tentative exchange of pleasure had matured to something more confident. I was part of Denny’s bi journey, and I was more than happy to be along for the ride. But I was kidding myself if I thought I could remain neutral.

“I want you, baby. I want you inside me.” I traced his stubbled jaw with my thumb and raked a hand through his hair, loving his responsive moan of approval.

Denny covered me, pressing his body against mine, trapping my legs as he devoured me with soul-stealing kisses. He rocked his pelvis, rubbing our erections together. It was good, but nowhere near enough.

Thankfully, I didn’t have to beg for more. He sat up abruptly, grabbed the lube, and gestured for me to get on my knees.

I braced for cool wetness and a probing digit, but he licked me instead. I groaned at the feel of his tongue on my hole. He pushed the tip in, flicking it as I fisted the sheets and begged for his cock.

Denny released me, added more lube, and entered me, slow and steady. He grazed his fingers along my sides, leaving goose bumps in the wake of featherlight touches as he moved. I grunted for more and he delivered, holding my shoulders for purchase and fucking me like a boss.

My boy was a quick study. He licked my neck and pinched my nipples as he snapped his hips. I jacked myself, sliding up and down his shaft. He sat on his heels and pulled me onto his lap, giving me room to take over. I rode him hard, lettingmy head lull sideways to rest against Denny’s while he circled himself around me protectively…one arm on my stomach, a hand cupping my balls.

I wasn’t going to last.

Denny tightened his hold, thrusting and bucking as he pulled my chin toward him. The angle was terrible, but the kiss was potent. I came with a gasp, shuddering in his arms, and he was right there with me.

I carefully disengaged our bodies and dove onto the pillow, fucked out and exhausted. Denny laughed and lunged on top of me. A halfhearted wrestling match ensued, silly and handsy, and kind of sweet.

This was the kind of thing that made me nervous.

In a twist, I was still capable of doing the stupidest things…like falling head over fucking heels for a hockey star.

18

DENNY

“You’re going to have to peel away from the board, babe.”

Hank nodded, removing one hand, pausing to test his balance before removing his other hand and…promptly falling on his ass. Again.

I crouched low and tugged at his elbow.

“No. Leave me here,” Hank grumbled.

“Hey, don’t give up now. You’re doing great.”

Total lie. He was terrible. Hank was overthinking the whole blades on ice thing ’cause balance definitely wasn’t the issue for a guy who’d spent years in the saddle. It was a mind fuck, and I wasn’t sure how to get him to relax enough to move instead of letting gravity take over.

“Until skating on your ass becomes an Olympic event, I think we can both agree this isn’t going well,” he snarked.

“C’mon. Let’s get you up and try again.”

He sighed but allowed me to help him to his feet. “Now what?”

“Let go of my arm. Okay, now bend your knees and keep your weight over your skates, head up.” I skated backward, noddingin approval. “That’s good. Now pretend there’s an invisible string tied to the rafters that won’t let you fall, but you only activate it if you move your feet. Remember, lean forward.”

Hank glided toward me on his right skate, and left, and right, and—wobbled, swinging his arms like a helicopter about to take off before eating it. “I can’t do it. It’s not in my genes.”