Page 22

TWENTY-TWO

carter

Jack spent the night wrapped in my arms. I said I wouldn’t leave him, and I meant it.

He didn’t rest soundly, though.

He muttered a lot, his dreams…

or likely, nightmares…

holding him captive through the hours until early-morning sunlight peeked into the blinds in my bedroom.

I’d never felt so helpless.

I had no words for him, no ability to chase away his demons.

And now all I want to do is comfort him, make him believe that whatever happened isn’t going to take away everything he’s worked for.

It won’t ruin his life.

But I might be lying because I don’t actually know specifically what demons he’s running from.

He only let me in so far last night before retreating back into his one-man shell.

I know it’s because he doesn’t feel like he can trust me entirely.

And I get it because of what he’s been through.

I’ve never felt more grateful for my family than I did last night after hearing those horror stories about Jack’s childhood.

My heart ached for the little boy who basically had nobody but himself to rely on .

It doesn’t come as much of a shock why he’s adopted that mindset as an adult.

His even, warm breaths heat my skin where his face rests against my chest and I run a hand down the slope of his back, which I found out he absolutely loves.

I’ve never seen a huge hockey player melt over a simple touch but for Jack, maybe it’s something he’s never experienced before.

Something gentle, something loving.

It’s sad, gut wrenchingly so.

But it makes me feel closer to him, and nothing has ever made me happier, if I’m being honest.

He has my heart.

I just hope he’s careful with it this time.

He’s so worth the risk.

Jack slowly raises his head, his sleep-tousled hair hanging over his heavy eyes.

I sweep my hand through it, pushing it away from his face, a sudden and sharp ache banging around deep in my chest.

He looks so defeated, it stuns me to the point of silence.

Streaks of purple smear the skin under his eyes, the normally mischievous green flickers of light that glow in his eyes now gone, his gaze dull and empty.

“Thanks for being such a good friend to me,” he says in a quiet, gravelly voice.

“I really needed that last night.”

“It doesn’t have to be limited to last night,” I say, the reality of his words grasping my heart and twisting it hard.

“I told you I’d be here for you, that you aren’t alone. I hope you remember that.”

He nods.

“I do. And I will.” The tip of his finger traces over my chest, then he opens his hand and smooths his palm over my prickled skin.

I let out a hiss of air, my dick already hard from being pressed against him all night .

My brain screams at me to make him stop, that I don’t want to be the doormat encouraging him to enter when he needs an escape from his life.

And that sex can’t fix whatever is happening to him.

If anything, it can break me, especially if he only thinks of me as a fuck buddy ready and willing to help him work through his issues.

I know how much that sucks, since it’s basically what I used Livvie for.

I can’t be his crutch.

But I also can’t bring myself to let go, even knowing that sex might be all the “relationship” he can handle.

He slowly lifts a leg and straddles me, lowering his body onto mine.

My dick jumps when his jerks against it.

We lie there, grinding together, our chests flush against each other for what feels like eons, our gazes battling for answers to questions that neither of us want to offer before he dips his head and envelops my lips.

His arms snake around my back, pulling me toward him.

I run my fingertips down his sides, smiling through the kiss when he trembles and twists in response.

“I love that you’re ticklish,” I murmur against his mouth, my hand moving up to the back of his neck, fingers winding into his hair.

He lets out a groan.

“Your hands are fucking magic.”

“What else?”

“Mmm. Your hard cock. Speaking of…” He reaches for me as he ruts against me.

“I’d love to feel that magical dick inside of me right now.”

My heart should soar at that.

I should be happy…ecstatic…

that the man I’ve secretly pined for wants me.

But does he want me the same way I want him…

totally and completely?

Would he even realize it if he did ?

I reach past him and grab a tube of lube from the nightstand.

I coat my fingers and work them inside of his ass, trying desperately to focus while he lubes up his own hand and strokes my cock.

How the fuck did I live without this for so long?

“Fuck me, Carter,” he whispers, attacking the side of my neck while I jut my hips and thrust into him with a loud groan.

His ass is perfect, the way he moves, the way he tenses up and releases me, the way our bodies meld together like they were created to be this connected.

He rides me hard, taking me deep, his lips and teeth assaulting my neck and ear.

“You fuck me so good,” he moans.

“Your cock is making me crazy.”

My pulse jumps into my throat.

Jack’s ass bobs on my cock, the push and pull making me choke on each raspy breath coming out of my mouth.

My hand wraps tight around his cock, teasing the slit as my brain short-circuits from the erotic charges zapping my insides.

“Yes, that’s the fucking spot.” He clamps down on me, his tight hole sucking me farther into his heat until the sparks of hunger in my groin morph into full-fledged flames that rage through every cell.

With a low, rumbling roar, he clenches his teeth and squeezes his eyes shut.

Tremors shudder his body, hot ropes of cum shooting all over my chest at the same time that my dick explodes inside of him.

He collapses on top of me with a deep sigh, our skin slick and sticky with his cum.

But neither of us is anxious to peel away from the other.

I love to feel him plastered against me, to feel the race of his heart, the warmth of his embrace.

Goddammit.

I’m so fucked.

“Hey, I told Sam I’d show up at Play It Forward today.” Jack takes one of my nipples between his tongue and teeth.

“Wanna come with?”

So I can spend more time with you and get even more hooked than I already am?

Yes, I’m all about the self-torture and torment.

My lips curl upward.

“Sure.”

We don’t rush getting out of bed.

Or the shower.

Or my condo.

It feels like hours before we actually walk into the building.

And my God, were those minutes the most carnal ones I’ve ever spent with another person.

I think my dick needs a sling and a good icing after the marathon erotic workout we basically started at sunrise.

But fuck me if I can’t keep stripping him naked in my mind as I watch him walk into the place.

My cell phone pings, and I pull it out of my pocket, smiling when I see my mom’s face.

“Hey,” I say after swiping to answer the call.

“How are you?”

“Great, sweetie,” she says.

“I’m so excited to see you this weekend. Grandma is going to be so surprised when you show up for her ninetieth birthday party.”

Shit, I completely forgot about the party.

Dad mentioned something when I saw him in Ohio, and I put it to the back of my mind since other things kinda crept into its place.

“I’m excited to see you guys, too,” I say.

“But listen, I’ll call you later. I’m volunteering at this place in Oakland, helping underprivileged kids learn hockey.”

“Oh, that sounds amazing. Have fun and good luck, sweetie. Love you.”

“Love you, too, Mom,” I say before ending the call .

Jack looks back at me.

“You’re going home this weekend?”

I shrug.

“Yeah, it’s just overnight. We play on Friday and then not again until Monday, so it worked out.”

He gives me a stiff nod but doesn’t say anything else.

I follow him, staring at his back as he pulls forward like someone just lit a flame under him.

What the fuck did I say?

It’s my grandma’s birthday.

Why is it a problem that I’m going home?

But before I can even ask him what his problem is, he makes a beeline for the ice skating rink and the group of kids standing near the stands.

Sam stands at the front desk with a girl.

He looks up and waves to me.

I wave back, Jack still in my periphery.

The kids are on the ice with another one of the coaches.

Looks like they’re playing a game.

One kid pulls a dick move, deking a second kid in the line before taking off down the ice with the puck.

The other kid loses his balance and struggles to straighten up.

But someone else comes up on his right and he trips as he swings himself out of the way.

He goes down on his arm and lets out a loud yelp.

Jack runs to the middle of the ice to help him up.

I furrow my brow when the kid shakes his head at something Jack says.

He helps the kid up and walks him into a corner, away from all the other kids.

His jaw tightens as he leans over the boy and whispers something.

The kids eyes are red-rimmed and he swipes at a tear that slips down his cheek.

I take a few steps closer, still too far away to hear anything.

Then I see Jack take his arm.

He slides the shirt sleeve to his elbow.

Jesus Christ,” I mutter when I see the angry, bluish-purple bruises that cover the whole forearm.

He runs a finger over the kid’s ratty turtleneck to expose another bruise near his clavicle .

Sam walks over to me.

“Hey, everything okay?”

I look at him, my eyes wide.

“No. Not at all.”

Jack runs over, his face flushed red, his eyes blazing with anger.

He grabs Sam by the t-shirt, fisting the fabric as Sam gapes at him.

“I want you to find Jeremy’s father. Because I’m going to fucking kill him.”