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Beside that photo and puck was a larger image of Trev sporting a full playoff beard as he hoisted the Cup. The photographer had caught him mid-shout, and Trev was the very picture of joy and elation.

Beside that, there was a shot of Trev beside the cup, one baby in the crook of his arm, the other inside the Cup.

Wow. He’d been on top of the world that year. A new dad. Won the Cup. Still happily married. His dreams from the time when we were young had been to get married, have kids, and win a Cup as a pro hockey player. It was amazing to see him enjoying all three of those things at the same time.

I’d watched that win on TV. I’d celebrated as if I’d been there with him. My chest had been ready to explode from the sheer joy of watching him achieve one of his biggest dreams, and it had ached because I’d missed him so damn much.

I traced my fingertip along the edge of the picture frame. For years, I’d followed Trev’s career from a distance, watching games and highlights whenever I could be sure Daniel wouldn’t catch me.

It was weird to see them now while I was here. In Trev’s house. Back in his life.

I was glad to see that while part of his world had fallen apart, not all of it had. His marriage had imploded, yes, but he still had his boys. He still had his career. Though the divorce had been hell and his ex-husband still insisted on being a pain in the dick, Trev hadn’t lost everything.

And through it all, he was still the same sweet, amazing man he’d been when we were kids. More mature now, but still Trev. Still the friend I’d been missing all this time. Still the man I’d regretted drifting away from.

By a series of minor miracles, we were back in each other’s worlds.

And like hell was I ever losing him again.

The restless boredom did not, in fact, kill me, though I wondered a few times if it might. An hour in the gym helped. Food helped. Watching Trev’s game on TV helped.

But I was definitely not used to being alone without some panic to keep me occupied, and by the time I called it a night, I was both exhausted and wired. Tired from hours on end trying to chill, keyed up from all the thoughts that had been banging around in my skull all day.

And now that I was in bed, there was nothing to pull my focus.

Well… almost nothing.

Because spending a day alone, feeling untethered and occupying myself with photos of Trev and thoughts of him while I sat around in his house… had let me think about him. A lot.

Trev as a dad. Trev as a hockey player. Trev as the breath of fresh air he was after I’d wasted so much time with Daniel. Trev as the kid I’d experimented with who’d had the audacity to grow into a man who had no business being that goddamned gorgeous.

I closed my eyes and whispered some curses even though there was no one around to hear me.

Alone in the darkness, all those thoughts of Trev coalesced into something that was both surprising and predictable—horniness that needed an outlet.

I hadn’t been interested in anything sexual in a long, long time—not since well before I’d stopped having sex with Daniel—but tonight…

Fuck. Tonight I was almost tempted to fire up a hookup app.

Almost, because that would’ve required effort and brain cells, and also, it would mean sleeping with someone who wouldn’t be able to scratch this itch.

He might be able to get me off, but he wouldn’t be able to get Trev off my mind, and goddammit, I didn’t just want an orgasm or sex right now—I wanted all that with Trev .

I wanted to run my fingertips over the planes and contours of his body, feeling for myself what time and hockey had done to his physique. I loved the sounds men made in bed—moaning, gasping, cursing—but right now, I only wanted to hear those coming from Trev.

God, I was stupid. Trev was my friend, and he was also my boss and my landlord.

And like, the dude was a rich pro athlete.

I’d seen the people hockey players dated.

I was pretty sure every one of the Pittsburgh Rebels’ wives and girlfriends were literal models, and though Bryan was a dick, he wasn’t hard on the eyes.

I’d have bet money that under his hoodies or suits was a body that wouldn’t be out of place in an underwear ad.

I was fit and all, and I liked to think I was a good-looking guy, but I was also realistic. I was an unemployed personal trainer who’d had to drive his piece-of-shit car across the country to take a gig as a nanny in order to keep my head above water. Trev could do a lot better.

But that didn’t mean I couldn’t close my eyes and imagine the alternate universe where he wanted me.

Especially since I’d visited that universe plenty of times over the past few years.

I mean, it wasn’t a big secret that when people were checked out of relationships, they fantasized about other people during sex with their partner.

The secret I would never admit out loud under torture was that, for the last three years of my relationship, it was fantasies of Trev that had carried me through sex with Daniel.

Every time I came, it was to thoughts of Trev’s tongue driving me wild or his dick pounding into me or his voice purring in my ear about how turned on he was.

“You’re gonna regret this,” Daniel had told me when I was leaving.

“Why?” I’d snarked back. “Because I’ll miss the sex?” I’d scoffed and rolled my eyes, knowing I was hitting below the belt and not the least bit sorry about it. “Please.”

He’d replied with a caustic laugh. “You finished every time, so I must’ve been doing something right.”

I mean, yeah, he had me there. I’d always— almost always—come.

He’d just never know that it was less about his technique and more about the mind-blowing fantasies of my best friend.

And those fantasies had all happened before I’d been face to face with the man Trev had become.

I’d seen him on TV and all, both playing and in interviews, but actually breathing the same air as him—actually seeing him in the flesh—was a million times better.

I couldn’t help but be turned on by the man he’d become in the years we’d been apart.

Okay, now I was seriously horny.

I put a little lube on my fingers and started teasing myself, closing my eyes as my brain went through its catalog of go-to Trev fantasies.

Not just fucking me—though, oh my God, I wanted his dick in me—but with his face buried between my thighs.

The thought of his mouth on me like my fingers were now—fucking hell, that had my toes curling already.

I usually moved between fantasies while I was getting off, but not this fast. Not one imaginary scenario after another, rapidly flitting between Trev fucking me over every imaginable surface to him going down on me until his jaw ached to me riding him until he came so hard he couldn’t breathe.

I wanted it all, and each turned me on more than the last. It was like getting all my fantasies remastered into high def.

Or hell, remade with a far better and prettier actor.

One who was light years out of my league, but inside my fantasy, wanted me more than anything else in the world.

Even his voice was sexier now. Deeper than when he was a teenager, and a little rough around the edges. What I wouldn’t have given to have that voice growling in my ear, encouraging me to my climax while he chased his own.

“That’s it, baby,” I could imagine him purring. “God, you feel amazing.”

I bit my lip and arched, my toes curling as those first sparks of a climax fired off.

I usually let my orgasms build for a while, enjoying the ride until I was ready to let go, but I was too keyed up tonight.

Too hot with need as my mind filled with images of present-day Trev driving both of us into oblivion.

Too needy in ways I couldn’t remember ever being.

So I let my fingers and that amazing mental porno send me into the stratosphere. I thought I heard myself cry out with abandon, but all I knew for sure was absolute bliss as the most intense orgasm I’d had in ages crashed through me.

I took my hand away before things got too sensitive, and I pushed out a ragged breath as the intensity started to ebb.

I let my eyelids flutter shut, and I just lay there for a moment as those delicious aftershocks rolled through me.

I couldn’t remember the last time an orgasm—of my own making or otherwise—had left me dizzy and shaking like this.

There was no guilt this time, either. I wasn’t deceiving anyone.

Okay, I might’ve been lying to Trev by omission, but that was probably the best thing for my job and our friendship.

There was no shame in not blurting out, “So I totally jacked off thinking about you, and I had to peel myself off the ceiling afterward.”

The thought made me laugh drunkenly. Yeah, it was just as well I was keeping this to myself. But I wasn’t lying to Daniel anymore because he wasn’t here. His opinion, his pleasure—none of that mattered anymore. Only mine did.

And goddamn, the pleasure was incredible this time.

My solo sessions would never be the same again now that I had updated Trev-shaped fantasies to play with.

I didn’t even feel the need to go looking for someone to hook up with or date.

Who needed a stranger when thinking of Trev did more for me than most real-life guys did?

Hell, maybe it was just as well this was only fantasies. Maybe it was just as well I wasn’t actually sleeping with Trev.

The sex would probably kill me.