Page 25 of Overtime Goal (Buffalo Warriors Hockey #4)

Every time he glanced over with one of his excited, goofy grins, I forced a smile of my own.

Our hands bumped repeatedly, and even though neither of us grabbed for the other’s, I wished he would.

I was out, but under the circumstances, I needed to let him decide when to have physical contact in public.

When we reached the bottom of one of the winding trails, Positano opened wide below us.

The pastel houses cascading down the cliffside looked like frosting on a crooked cake, and the turquoise sea was a beacon drawing us closer.

Everything seemed louder as we approached the beach, with its crashing waves and peals of laughter from the sunbathers.

Boats hummed in the water, and somewhere close, a woman was singing.

When we stepped onto the sand of the Spiaggia Grande, Positano’s main stretch, I knew it was unlike other beaches I’d visited. The sand was different under my shoes; not soft, but firm, rocking me the way a boat tops a gentle swell.

We changed in the bathhouse, and I failed at pretending not to look at Riley.

I knew the taste of his skin and the shape of his muscles under my tongue.

He finished changing first and said he’d meet me outside.

After he left, I leaned against the wall, catching my breath and hoping I wouldn’t make a fool of myself ogling him on the beach.

After changing, I caught up as he was paying for water, two loungers, and some towels. We were both shirtless, and I couldn’t help watching him as we walked across the pale beach to our chairs, which were under a blue and white umbrella.

We stowed our bags under the loungers, and when we stood, Riley looked at me. His towel was draped around his neck, his cheeks were flushed, and his chest was already slick with sweat. Grinning, he tossed me a bottle of water.

I returned his smile. “You all right there, Riles? You look like you’ve run a marathon.”

The hair falling across his eyes fluttered in the breeze. “Hot from looking at you. You look like you stepped right off a porn site homepage.”

I laughed as we sat down. “Don’t flatter me. You’re the one who could be a porn model. The way you kept stretching on the way across the beach almost drove me crazy.”

“Yeah, well, look who’s talking. I’m just trying to keep up with you.”

“Bullshit. I’m the one trying to keep up with my boyf…”

Fuck, no. What the hell did I do?

He stared at me for a second, then blinked once, looked away, and took a long drink of water. I fought the urge to run. That was out of the question because my heart was pounding too fast. “Shit, Riles. I didn’t mean?—”

“I know,” he said, turning back toward me. His voice was quiet and easy, like he meant it.

“I… I really was…”

He smiled. “Don’t worry about it. We’re cool. Let’s put on sunscreen.”

I hoped he was telling the truth, that we really were okay.

After applying our sunblock and doing each other’s backs, we spread our towels and settled into the loungers.

I looked around, letting myself enjoy the view.

Pale sand stretched out in front of us, dotted with umbrellas lined up in perfect rows.

The shimmering water was clear, its turquoise color lighter here than from up the mountain.

A few people with long-lens cameras wandered here and there, the famous paparazzi, and I hoped they’d keep their distance.

“Already tired?” Riles asked.

I tipped my sunglasses to show him a mock evil eye. “I’m thirty-five, babe. My back’s a little sore.”

“You were thirty-five last night too. Didn’t seem to slow you down then.”

I couldn’t bite back a laugh. “Don’t you forget it either. It was a long walk down here, so let’s rest before we go into the water.”

“Take a nap, old man. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Yes, and he’ll probably be surrounded by girls wearing string bikinis.

That thought wasn’t helpful, so I pushed it out of my mind. We lay in silence as the heat soaked in. Close by, a kid shrieked as he chased a seagull, and a woman called something to him in Italian. Finally, I began letting go of the morning.

Riles was still, and I wondered if he’d fallen asleep.

I took the opportunity to watch him. He hadn’t shaved since we left Buffalo, and the stubble on his jaw was sexy as hell.

His long, thick lashes cast shadows on his cheeks and made me want to kiss them.

The things we’d said and done last night swirled around inside me, knotted up with heat and confusion.

Eventually, I couldn’t remain still, so I hopped up. “I’m going in.”

Riley pulled his sunglasses off and opened one eye. “Ready to show off your body?”

“Join me or stay here and let the old man win.”

In one long motion, he was out of his chair. “Race you.”

He took off like a shot, with me right behind him. We hit the water at full speed, splashing and laughing, and it was much colder than I expected. My lungs seized, and I looked around in time to catch him diving under a wave.

He surfaced in front of me, wet and grinning.

“I hate you,” I said.

“No, you don’t.”

He swam closer and flicked water on my face.

I lunged at him, and we wrestled like kids, half-shoving, laughing too hard, and not caring who saw.

When his hand landed low on my waist under the water, he didn’t move it right away.

I gazed into his eyes, admiring how the sun brought out a lot of gold in the green.

It was all I could do not to kiss him when he licked his lips, but I remembered the prowling paparazzi.

I may have been out and proud, but Riley was far from being out as whatever he was.

We floated and swam until we were exhausted.

Back at our chairs, we spread two more towels on the sand and dried off in the sun.

Riley fell asleep with his mouth slightly open.

His trunks had slipped low on his waist, not even covering the top of his pubes, and I snapped a picture I’d probably never delete.

Later, we shared a bag of sun-warmed cherries from the snack stand, tossing them in the air so the other could catch them in his mouth. They were very ripe and softened by the heat, so when one landed on Riley’s chest, it burst. I wiped it away with my finger.

“Logan…” His voice was low, and he angled his chin toward a nearby photographer.

“Just helping you stay clean.”

He kept his voice soft. “When we go back to the villa, you can clean me all over.”

That made my dick take notice, and I glanced down to be sure he saw. We laughed it off, but there was no missing the nervous energy bubbling underneath our chuckles.

When the crowd on the beach started thinning out, we changed and wandered through town.

Golden sunlight striped the streets. The air was salty, touched with lemon, and thick with the scents of garlic and seafood from the restaurants around us.

We ducked into a rental shop for Vespas, and I pretended to be skeptical.

My reluctance disappeared when the clerk showed us pictures of her favorite route, one that wound through ancient cliffside towns with views of Mount Vesuvius.

After reserving a Vespa, we looked for a place to pick up food for dinner. “I want you in front of me on a scooter,” Riley said. “My arms around you while I grind my boner into your back.”

“Fuck, I’m in.” He really was going to drive me crazy, and I was apparently along for the ride.

In a small open-air market, I found steaks, pasta, and the makings of a salad, while Riley picked out snacks. Among his finds was a kilo of cherries. “We had so much fun with them on the beach,” he said. “Tonight, I want to feed them to you and see if the juice stains my dick when you suck me off.”

Like I said, he was driving me nuts.

At the register, I added a bag of espresso and a box of pastries for breakfast. On the way back to the villa, we passed a group of older women gossiping on a shaded bench. One of them winked at me, and another looked at Riley and made a kissing sound.

“She wants you,” I whispered.

“I think she wants you to feed me cherries so she can watch.”

I grinned as we made our way up the mountain, bags swinging between us, and our shoulders brushing whenever one of us could get the right angle.

Though my legs ached from the incline, and my arms were sunburned, I didn’t want the day to end.

The awkwardness from earlier had disappeared, smoothed out by swimming, bad jokes, and the simple joy of eating fruit on a beach with someone who made you laugh.