Page 7

7

JAKE

“ S top moving around.”

“I can’t help it, I’m restless,” the lump a few feet away grumbled. Trinsky shifted again and sighed. “It’s weird to try to sleep next to someone who hates you. Will I even wake up in the morning?”

“You really think I’m going to murder you in your sleep?” I snort-laughed.

“I wouldn’t rule it out,” he replied conversationally. “How you’d do it is anyone’s guess. I’m way stronger than you, so you’d have to wait till I passed out or…drug me.”

“Unfortunately, I’m fresh out of cyanide.”

“ Hmph. You have a Swiss Army knife. You might slit my throat or strangle me or?—”

“Christ, you’re morbid,” I intercepted. “I might be tempted to strangle you, but I’m not doing prison time for your ass, so please…shut up and go to sleep.”

Silence.

“Still weird.”

I gritted my teeth and cursed at the universe for putting me in this situation…with this idiot. Good press be damned.

Patience, Jake. Be patient.

One Mississippi, two Mississippi…

“Yeah, it’s weird,” I conceded. “Pretend I’m not here.”

“Okay, I’ll give it a shot.”

I punched my pillow and squeezed my eyes closed. I willed sleep to hit me like a hammer, but the annoying rustle of Trinsky’s sleeping bag made that impossible. “Now what are you doing?”

“You said to pretend you aren’t here, so…I’m doing what I do every night. I’m jerkin’ it.”

I turned on the lantern again and sat upright in a flash.

“You will not fucking jerk off,” I hissed.

Trinsky blinked at the onslaught of light, his eyes crinkling at the corners with humor. My first thought was pure incredulity. How was this happening? I must have done something truly horrible in a previous life to deserve this.

My second thought?—

No. Not sharing. It was too disturbing and borderline insane and?—

Fine. Trinsky looked…hot.

Look, I wasn’t straight. But I generally didn’t gravitate to assholes.

Whatever.

So I noticed Trinsky’s muscular tattooed torso. So what? The vibrant inked patterns of bird wings, a heart, a thorny rose, and barbed wires gleamed in the dull light, accentuating every contour of his toned pecs and thick biceps. Nothing I hadn’t seen a few dozen times. Trinsky had always been one of the first summer camp coaches to whip his shirt off after a day in the rink or a regular season game or for social media content and promotional BS. Those inked abs, arms, and giant thighs had been featured on countless ads.

This wasn’t my first up-close glimpse of this supremely annoying man, but it was the first time I’d felt a physical reaction to him that wasn’t fury. I mean…that was there too—along with an inexplicable thought that he looked…sexy. And that his twinkling eyes and the dimples on his lightly bearded jaw were kind of…appealing.

Either I really needed to get laid, or there was something wrong with me.

Thankfully, Trinsky was oblivious.

“Oh, c’mon, man. Don’t be a buzzkill…or an erection killer,” he snickered.

I glared. “Go. To. Sleep. And don’t touch your fucking dick.”

He lifted his hands and waggled his fingers. “I was messin’ with you, Milligan. I wasn’t actually going to jerk myself a soda.”

I should have turned the lantern off, rolled over, and put an end to a nowhere discussion with the NHL’s biggest moron, but my gaze snagged on his puckered nipples. I sucked on my tongue, mentally imagining what it would feel like to touch a man.

Not Trinsky, of course. Just…someone with male parts. I knew I was bi, but I hadn’t done much exploring in gay waters. And I had no idea why I was thinking about that right now.

“Uh…good. Keep it that way,” I replied gruffly.

“The problem with you is that you can’t take a joke. Don’t sweat it—I’ll wait till you go to sleep to beat off.”

I slid deeper into my sleeping bag. “Stop being so…you.”

Trinsky reached for the lantern but dropped his hand and narrowed his eyes. “You mean awesome? I’ll try…if you stop being such an uptight asswipe.”

“Right. I think I like you better when you’re joking about your masturbation habits. Now, please shut the fuck up. Today was brutal. I need sleep.”

“Same.” He flicked the light off. “How many times have you been camping in these woods?”

“Dozens.”

“Have you ever come across a bear?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Gulp. Big, small, what are they like?”

“Are you scared?” I teased. Again, I should have rolled over, but…this was harmless chatter. Maybe it would lull the beast to sleep.

“Not if you’re here to protect me.”

“ Hmph .”

“I never went camping when I was a kid,” he said softly. “I know this weekend raises money for a good cause and all, but I can’t help thinking these little shits probably don’t appreciate catered lunches, dinners, and hang time with professional athletes. This is uber-elite pampering…except for the threat of bears.”

I agreed with him, and that was another one for the weird column. “Nature is the great equalizer.”

“A thousand percent. It’s why I surf.”

I’d tried to surf in Bali and had almost been taken out by a wave. It was humbling for sure and it was on the tip of my tongue to tell him that it had felt like I’d had a near brush with death, but I caught myself. No sharing major life events with the enemy.

“Why aren’t you surfing now?” I snapped. Great. Way to sound like a petulant teenager, Milligan.

“I’m here for PR reasons. You know, to save your ass.”

“Excuse me?”

“I got you viral, and now everyone wants to know what makes serious Jake Milligan tick. I don’t know if you’ve checked recently, but my agent told me you gained a hundred thousand followers within a week of that podcast. Something about great timing since you’re in contract negotiations too. He thinks I’m good for your career, so…you’re welcome.”

And just like that, I was wide awake, sputtering indignantly. “You fucking pompous piece of lowlife shit. You’re literally the worst thing possible for my career. I don’t want my name associated with yours…ever. Good, bad, or anything in between. Dirty playing and grandiose posturing is the Trinsky brand, not mine.”

“No, your brand is boring, efficient skating, and puck hogging. Emphasis on bor?—”

I flung my pillow at him. “I do not hog the fucking puck.”

Trinsky growled as he sat up. “Your most exciting recent game was the one where you limped off the ice with blood on your face. You showed some passion out there, like you gave a crap. Your problem last season was that your team is both too old and too young. The old guys are slow and the new kids don’t feed you shots exactly the way you like it, so you lose and you’re used to winning. And what do you change? Nothing. You’re an ice man out there, trying to put your team on your shoulders. It doesn’t work. But if you had blood dripping down your chin every night at least it would look like you gave a shit and?—”

This time, I flung myself at him, scrambling out of my sleeping bag and slamming Trinsky flat on his back. The element of surprise in the dark tent worked in my favor. He fell with an “ Oomph ” as I straddled his torso, wrapping my fingers around his throat.

He grabbed my wrists and pushed, rolling us sideways and tangling our legs in the sleeping bag. We knocked the lantern on its side, grunting and growling like maniacs in our quest to come out on top. I hadn’t been in an honest-to-God, pull-no-punches wrestling match off the ice in years. And as Trinsky had so obnoxiously observed, I wasn’t known for being a fighter on the ice, either. He was.

A physical altercation with this numbskull wasn’t smart. At all. Trinsky outweighed me by at least twenty pounds of pure muscle. He was scrappy and thick, and I had no hope of winning this fight. But anger and adrenaline were powerful motivators.

I pushed his chest, hiked my thigh over his, then threw a punch that didn’t land before diving for him again. Trinsky caught my elbow and instead of retaliating with a left hook, he pulled me against him, tightening his hold like a boa constrictor.

Note: We were now on our knees facing each other in thin cotton pajamas, locked in a weird-ass embrace. He wasn’t moving, and his tight grip made it difficult to wiggle away.

The darkness added an aura I couldn’t quantify. All I could think was, Fuck, he’s strong , and that thought sent a thrill up my spine and?—

Holy crap.

Trinsky’s warm, hard body plastered to mine kind of…turned me on.

No.

No, no, no.

I bit his shoulder, shoving him as he yelped. “Get the fuck away from me.”

“You attacked me, ya dirty raccoon. I’m gonna need a damn tetanus shot.”

“Why don’t you get one now?” I snarked, straightening my sleeping bag with military precision, my heartbeat reverberating in my ears.

“Gee, I’ll get right on that. Oh, wait. It’s midnight, and I’m stuck in a tent with an animal in the fuckin’ forest.” His sarcastic tone was so over-the-top, it was funny.

Or it might have been funny under other circumstances. But now…

I had a boner. No kidding. I had a raging fucking hard-on.

I was stunned.

Popping wood at the merest brush of another body, any body, was a condition for teenagers, not grown men in their thirties. I didn’t get it. I mean, I loathed this guy. Trinsky was combative, ridiculous, and annoying.

I swallowed hard, zipped the sleeping bag, and burrowed into the down warmth. Do not freak out. Do not freak out.

There had to be a logical explanation—no doubt it had something to do with exhaustion and the release of pent-up agitation. It had felt gratifying to get some angst out. Unfortunately, my subconscious had just taken it to a weird level.

“You have my pillow. Toss it over.” My voice was deep and gravelly. Shit, that was a sex voice. Any second now he’d call me out for?—

“Nope. It’s my pillow now. Night, Jakey,” Trinsky singsonged.

A wave of pure rage hit me. It was feral and base, and came with a side of something primal. I balled my hands into tight fists and cautioned myself not to lunge for him again.

What was my deal? I was even-tempered…ask anyone—but this guy brought out the worst in me.

I wanted to tell him not to call me Jakey and to give me the fucking pillow, right here, right now, like a little kid at a sleepover gone wrong. I wanted to wipe the smug lopsided smile off Trinsky’s stupid face, kick him out of the tent, and let him fend for himself.

Ugh . I just had to get through one night and?—

I frowned at the sound of a soft rumbly noise.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” I grumbled, squinting in the dark at my roomie, lying on his back with two pillows under his head, snoring away.

My anger slipped as I studied Trinsky. His features softened in sleep, giving him a deceptively boyish look. He had a tough exterior with his copious tats, muscles galore, a crooked nose, and full lips.

The media called Trinsky charming yet cutthroat, disarmingly nice yet brutally cunning—public persona versus his reputation on the ice. I called him an annoying asshole ’cause it fit. And was there anything more annoying than being subjected to close quarters with an enemy who had the gall to claim that associating with him was good for my career?

This entire situation pissed me off, but I had a bigger problem. I was still hard as a rock. In fact, my dick strained the elastic band of my boxer briefs. I cupped my shaft through my lightweight pajamas and squeezed.

Only the world’s biggest hypocrite would jerk off after giving a lecture about tent etiquette. I knew that. I really did. So I sucked in a deep breath and counted sheep, fingers still firmly wrapped around my pole, hoping to drift off to the sound of the big oaf sawing wood nearby.

No such luck. My cock pulsed insistently. It was uncomfortable as fuck, and no, I wasn’t going to do anything about it. I wasn’t. My hand was just…there. Touching, not stroking.

But after a minute of sweating it out, I had to make a strategic adjustment to avoid chafing.

I slipped my thumb under the elastic, slid my palm over my length, and— Fuck . It wouldn’t take much to come. Just a couple of strokes would do it.

I stole another peek at Trinsky as I oh-so stealthily gripped my throbbing cock and slowly dragged my fist up…and down. Up…and down. My nostrils flared, and my skin tingled everywhere. I tried to think super sexy thoughts to make this quick. Sure, I’d been on an epic dry spell for a while, but my brain could be trusted to conjure porn-worthy pert boobs in wet T-shirts, lacy thongs, and round asses.

Not this time. Trinsky was ruining this with his snoring. That had to be it.

I furrowed my brow, glaring at the insufferable lump in the shadows. He was so…obnoxious. Fuck those muscles and that pouty lower lip. Fuck his strong chin and that ridiculous dimple. Fuck his meaty forearms, his toned abs, and those chiseled V-lines pointing toward his cock like a neon sign. Just fuck him, fuck him, fuck him…

Oh, shit. I was coming…

And coming…

And coming.

Pleasure tingled along my spine, and white light clouded my vision as I shot ribbons of cum on my tee. I gasped with the force of my orgasm, trembling and doing my best not to make a sound.

Holy fuck.

I blinked wildly, licking my lips as I floated unsteadily back to Earth.

Trinsky’s rhythmic snoring cleared the remaining cobwebs. I glanced at his sleeping form, wondering what the hell was wrong with me. Too many things to count at the moment, starting with my cum-stained tee.

I yanked it over my head and cleaned up as quietly as possible. I braced myself for a long restless night but immediately fell into a deep dreamless sleep.