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KAYDEN

I lost control. I can admit that. Erik wants you to think I have zero self-awareness, but that’s bullshit. I know my shortcomings and don’t need him harping on me.

When I fought that punk at Mister Goodbar, I’d lost control and spent the night in Buffalo’s finest holding cell.

Kissing Erik was my latest example of control loss, and the consequences felt even worse.

Not that I would admit that to Erik. For one thing, it would prove his point about me being a hothead.

And second, it would suggest that I actually wanted that kiss.

You know damn well Erik would have a field day with that. Knowing I’d had a hard time restraining myself would empower him. When he’d approached me in the locker room, I stared into those eyes again, wanting to snatch my teammate, pull him in close, and fall deeply into another kiss.

That would spell disaster. I could never kiss him again, despite the urge.

All I could do was avoid him completely, which would be impossible.

I would see him on the ice and look at him for too long, thinking of what could be.

Then he would do something to piss me off, and I would react, which would be a dagger through my heart.

After film study, I stayed in the team room, which looked a lot like a classroom but it was where the coach analyzed the game tape for us.

I understood the risk of staying there after everyone had left, but I was the leader and had a responsibility, no questions asked.

Problem was, Erik also considered himself the leader and stayed behind, too, which was bad news.

Maybe he thought I was stupid, but I knew better.

I scooped up my binder full of scouting information, hoping to make a quick exit before Erik could tell me about his latest research into guys kissing guys. Just as I started to push the door open, I heard his voice.

“Kayden, where do you think you’re going?”

I stopped. Not that I had to. I didn’t have to take orders from him, but my nerves were shot, and I didn’t want him getting the upper hand.

“Class,” I said. “You’re not the only one with places to be.”

“Not until I’ve talked to you.”

I turned to him, wondering who he thought he was talking to. He did the same thing the day before. If this kid thought he could pull that authority shit with me, he had another thing coming.

“Look,” I said, “we don’t have anything to say to each other. And I know what you’re going to say. Straight guys do things like this all the time, yadda-yadda-yadda.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“You might as well have. I’m telling you, it’s bullshit.”

“Then why won’t you look directly at me?”

Only when he said that did I realize he was right. I was looking away. Even when I tried to face him, part of me wanted to look past him toward the lockers. Anything to avoid looking directly at his face.

And it wasn’t just because he made me sick. This was survival. Even admitting that to myself felt like a small defeat. On the other hand, I could beat Erik at his own game by looking into those perfect blue eyes, staying strong, and never cracking.

I could will myself through this.

So, I turned to him. “I’m looking at you now, aren’t I?”

“Took you long enough.”

“If you’re trying to start shit, De Ruiter, you’ve picked the wrong guy.”

“That a fact?”

“Yeah, that is a fact. And I know what you’re going to tell me. You know what? I don’t want to talk about it, and I don’t want to talk to you. I’m done with this shit. Out of my way.”

When I tried to step out the door, I felt Erik’s hand on my shoulder.

I tensed up and felt hot all over. Normally, I would’ve nailed anyone who’d touched me that way.

That was how I’d lost my cool a lot of times.

It wasn’t just him touching me, but he’d done it after I’d already told him I was leaving.

“Get your hands off me, Erik.”

He didn’t listen.

“I wouldn’t have to touch you if you’d stop and listen to reason for a minute.”

“Listen to reason? What you told me yesterday was total bullshit.”

I wanted to believe that in the worst way. If I kept telling myself that, I would believe it. No matter what, I would admit nothing.

“You’re scared,” he said.

“What?”

“I said you’re scared, dude. Clean out your ears.”

He’d said that to me before. I couldn’t let him get away with calling me that again.

“You take that back, bro,” I said.

“Or what? Gonna do something to me?”

“Not if you do what I tell you. Now, take that back.”

“Take what back? That you’re scared? No way, dude. I’m just telling the truth.”

I shoved him. Don’t blame me for that one either.

He totally had it coming. Here’s the problem: Shoving Erik meant my hands made contact with his chest, allowing me to feel the firm muscle under his shirt.

No one could stay in charge after feeling him like that.

In the seconds that followed, I stared into those eyes again and felt weak.

But it gets worse: He shoved me back. Feeling his strong hands slam against my chest triggered so many of the same feelings. You know that saying about upsetting the apple cart? That applied perfectly here. We’d stood on shaky ground to begin with, and a shoving match would cause disaster.

My eyes stayed fixed on his. I shoved him again, feeling his firm muscles for the second time. I would’ve given anything to experience his touch for the third time. If I did, God knew what would happen.

Erik didn’t shove me back. I didn’t strike again. We stood frozen for a moment, staring deep into each other’s eyes, losing ourselves. All at once, everything I’d held back burst free, like a deluge crushing a dam.

We fell into each other’s arms for the second time, our tongues instantly inside each other’s mouths.

This time, we pawed at each other like animals.

We didn’t break away from the kiss after a few seconds, terrified by our actions.

We reveled in the moment, soaking up the heat and passion.

He cupped the back of my head, pushing me deeper into the kiss, and I combed my fingers through his hair.

And I felt his hard-on pressed against my leg.

Oh my fucking God. It was the real thing. I’d excited Erik De Ruiter so much that his member felt rock hard poking against my leg. Worse, I felt tingles below my waist and found my own hard-on straining against my jeans.

I couldn’t remember getting hard the first time we’d kissed.

That doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. I’d been caught up in the moment and couldn’t recall for sure.

Erik had exercised the same power over me that I had over him.

I couldn’t deny that I felt totally aroused.

I also couldn’t deny my boxer briefs felt wet.

I didn’t have to admit that last part to Erik, but I knew it for myself, which felt bad enough. That meant my arousal was no accident.

Our lips did break apart, but we didn’t push away from each other like last time. We both panted. I kissed Erik’s cheek, feeling his scratchy beard on my lips, and planted kisses down his neck. His head thrust back and he groaned, which told me I now had him right where I wanted him.

Someone could walk in and see us. That warning called out from the back of my mind but not enough to make me stop. I pulled his shirt out of his pants, ready to lift it over his head because that was the natural next step.

Then I stopped, peeling myself off Erik, whose eyes stayed fixed on me, hungry. I felt totally ravenous too.

When we fell back into each other’s arms, kissing deeply, I knew I couldn’t allow myself to give in. I had to do something, so I pushed myself away, but not hard.

“I can’t do this.” I choked out the words, breathless. “This is going way too far.”

“But we haven’t done anything yet.”

But we’re going to, I wanted to say. If we keep going, it’s going to happen, and all the excuses in the world will never change it .

If it did happen, he would know I wanted it as badly as he did.

Maybe I wanted it even more because I had such a hard time controlling myself.

I stared down at the massive bulge in his jeans that hadn’t yet subsided.

I’d never looked down at a guy’s crotch on purpose before, but I found Erik hard, throbbing and ready for action.

I wanted to touch it, to hold it in my hand and squeeze it.

Nothing I could do would banish that urge, that need.

When I saw his eyes sneak down to my crotch, I peered down and found my hard-on as ready as ever. Did Erik want to touch my hard-on as badly as I wanted to grope his?

“This was a mistake,” I said.

“No, it wasn’t.”

“I’m telling you, it was just a mistake, a complete fuck up. Don’t correct me, all right?”

I picked up my bag, slung it over my shoulder, and headed out the door at warp speed. Once in the hall, I held my bag in front of me, so passersby wouldn’t see me pitching a tent.

So, I’d survived this round with Erik De Ruiter, but I would see him again. When I did, we would fall into each other’s arms again. That was a given. And when we did, how the hell would we stop ourselves?