Page 27

27

holky

Los Angeles, Early March

“Suck it, babe. I need to come.”

We were wedged in a hotel shower stall way too small for a couple of hockey players, but that never stopped us before. We’d figured out that taking care of morning wood in the shower bought us a few extra minutes of sleep. As a bonus, it was a hell of a lot more fun than hitting snooze.

This morning, I’d gotten on my knees and blown Chuck until he’d groaned, tensed, and come with his fingers digging into my scalp. Now, my back was flat against the tile wall, and he was on his knees, returning the favor—slowly, expertly edging me while I tried not to melt into a puddle.

My entire shaft was buried in his mouth, but instead of sucking, he was holding me in that perfect, wet heat while his tongue flicked maddeningly along the underside of my cock. I could’ve grabbed his head and fucked his throat, which could be a lot of fun. Today, I clung to his shoulders and begged. I was in the mood for something else.

The shower spray was focused on my chest, and the water ran in rivulets down my torso and onto his hair, plastering it to his face. I couldn’t take my eyes off him, two hundred pounds of muscle, crouched on the floor waiting for his favorite protein shake.

When he shifted slightly, the flex of his back and shoulders sent a fresh surge of heat through me. He must have felt me staring, because he lifted his head and met my eyes. His were dark and intense, framed by strands of wet, brown hair. Between how his lashes were clumped with water and the steam curling between us, it was like we were in a damn porn video.

Then he started sucking—slow, deep, sinful pulls that had my heart hammering against my ribs. His jaw worked like he was savoring every second, enjoying the best thing he’d ever tasted.

I made a sound somewhere between a gasp and a whimper and braced myself. My orgasm was winding up, heavy and inevitable, and it would no doubt be massive. I wanted to tell him how fucking gorgeous he was and how much I loved him, but I couldn’t get anything out, not when he was watching me like that. He knew exactly what he was doing to me, and I…

“ Fuck! ” The first shot hit hard enough to make my legs buckle. I started sliding down the slick wall as every muscle seemed to contract at once. My vision blurred.

Chuck held on, hands firm on my hips, steadying me as I lost it. I kept my eyes open, not wanting to miss the breathtaking sight of Chuck on his knees gulping my cum, keeping his eyes on mine like he was daring me to forget this moment.

By the time I stopped squirting, I could barely stand. He licked me clean, treating me to a symphony of obscene slurps, and then stood. “You came a lot,” he said, sounding more amused than surprised.

I groaned, still riding the high. “That a problem?”

“Not at all. I’m impressed, actually.” He gave me a crooked grin. “You looked like you were about to pass out.”

I wrapped my arms around him, and after we kissed, he leaned his head on my shoulder while the water pounded around us. There wasn’t room to dance, thank God, but we swayed together.

As my heartbeat slowed and I caught my breath, I thought about how goddamn lucky I was. This amazingly hot, fierce, beautiful man was mine. Chuck was smoothing out the harsh edges of my troubled life, and I hoped like hell it would stay that way.

* * *

I was glad the Warriors had been able to schedule a completely free day in Los Angeles. After a grueling series of games in Vancouver, Seattle, Portland, and San Jose, we needed a break. Most of the guys planned to spend the day golfing, but Chuck and I had decided to enjoy some alone time. We both loved the ocean, and since he’d never seen the Pacific, we agreed to go to one of most fun spots in the city, Venice Beach. After a quick breakfast, decked out in board shorts, T-shirts, and sneakers, we called an Uber.

As soon as we got out of the car, Chuck threw his arms in the air and whooped. “I fucking love California. Sunshine and a great breeze at eleven in the morning.”

“We lucked out,” I said. “I checked the weather app—seventy degrees, headed for a high of seventy-two.”

He did a celebratory fist pump. “Beats the hell out of schlepping across the winter tundra to chase pucks around an ice rink.”

Needing to feel him, I let my arm brush against his. “True, but you love chasing those pucks.”

“No question.” He turned his head, taking in our surroundings. “This place looks amazing. What should we do first?”

“When I was here with Gabe and Logan, we walked around and played it by ear. Sound good?”

“Hell yeah. Let’s go.” Chuck’s grin gave the SoCal sun a run for its money, and he took off.

It took a few long strides to catch him. He grinned as we brushed the sides of our hands together.

“If I didn’t know better,” I said, “I’d think you were excited.”

He shot me a sideways glance, his grin stretching impossibly wide. “Not as much as I was in the shower this morning, but I’m stoked for this.”

When we reached the Skate Park, he stopped short. “Holy shit, this is huge. Look at all those bowls and rails.” His eyes moved to mine. “You skateboard?”

“Used to.” I rested a hand on his back.

“Do they rent them here? Want to go?”

I snorted. “Considering Criswell would personally chop off our nuts if we went back to the hotel with broken bones, I’ll say no.” I slid my hand to his shoulder, and a thrill zipped down my arm when he reached up and covered my hand with his.

“I guess.” He cast another longing glance at the skaters. “We wouldn’t get hurt.”

“You really want to risk it?” I gave him the best think-about-it look I could find. “People are already putting ‘Madison’ and ‘rookie of the year’ in the same sentence. Let’s keep walking, and if you can’t stop thinking about it, we’ll talk later.”

I hoped he’d forget, because talk was all we’d do. Aside from not wanting either of us injured, I really wanted him to win that award.

“Fuck.” He blew out a hard breath, looking like a dejected twelve-year-old.

In a flash, I wished I could’ve known him when we were kids. He would have been an anchor in my completely fucked-up world, the kind of friend who kept me sane. And there’s nothing wrong with falling in love when you’re young. After one last wistful glance at the skaters, he patted my lower back, and we walked on.

We spent the next hour watching street performers—we saw a guy breakdancing on roller skates and another swallowing swords—before checking out the sculpted bodies at Muscle Beach. Chuck nudged me and muttered, “I bet Abby could bench half these guys.”

“Not without chirping them the whole time.” I followed with my best Abdulov imitation: “You try your best boys, don’t feel bad. No match for Russian who lifts weights since three years old.”

Chuck cackled, and we kept walking. A few funky shops later, we found ourselves waiting for a signal to cross the street.

“We are going to the actual beach today, right?” He pointed at the ocean in the distance. The Pacific stretched out endlessly, gleaming in the sun and bluer than I remembered. It looked like a promise I didn’t dare dream of, that Chuck and I could be together for…

Fuck. I didn’t have the best track record for things working out, and there was no need to jinx this. “Want to go to the Boardwalk?” I asked, dragging myself back to the present. “There’s a lot to see, and we can goof around.”

He tapped my arm and left his hand there. “You know me; ‘goof around’ is my middle name.”

We headed in that direction, and I kept glancing at the ocean, my mind already spinning with possibilities. Hopefully, we had long careers ahead, and there was no telling where we’d land. One of us could end up out here while the other was still in Buffalo. Or maybe I’d screw it up like I always seemed to do.

What the hell? If I want this to work, I need to stop thinking about worst-case scenarios.

“What the fuck is that guy doing?”

Chuck’s voice yanked me out of my spiral, and I barely registered that his hand was now splayed across my abs.

Fifteen feet in front of us, a tattooed thirty-something man was juggling chainsaws.

“Really, dude?” I blurted out. “Death-wish much?”

“For real.” Chuck’s voice was much softer than mine, as if he were considering the safety logistics. “At least they’re not running.”

“I guess that makes it a little less dangerous.”

The guy grinned at us. “Want to try? No charge.”

After politely declining, we gave him a wide berth as we walked past.

We wandered for a while, soaking everything in—people watching, listening to a saxophonist who deserved to be playing in sold-out concert halls instead of on a street for tips, and even dodging a fire juggler who clearly had a questionable relationship with personal safety.

Somewhere along the way, the scent of grilled meat, fried onions, and garlic oil started following us. My stomach growled loud enough to make Chuck smirk.

“Hungry, sweets?”

“Starving. If we don’t eat soon, I might accept that guy’s offer and take my chances with the chainsaws.”

We followed our noses to a little sandwich spot tucked between a surf shop and a henna tattoo booth. It was a no frills, no bullshit kind of place, offering nothing but unashamed greasy perfection. The sandwiches were fantastic, dripping enough juice down our fingers that we used four napkins each to clean up.

After a detour to the bathroom, we continued exploring. It wasn’t long until we came to a stand selling everything from hand-blown glass to tiny Hollywood magnets.

Chuck let out a low whistle. “This is some of the most random shit I’ve ever seen in one place.”

“Like Venice Beach in miniature,” I said, picking up a snow globe with a tiny golden Oscar rattling inside.

We pawed through the clutter, pointing out the weirdest trinkets and trading commentary that was equal parts making fun and sheer delight. Chuck grinned at something across the table, and I had a sudden, stupid urge to freeze time.

I don’t want to lose this. The wonderful feelings. Him.

“Want to buy anything?” I asked. “To help us remember this?”

He turned to me. “I’ll never forget today, but I’d love a souvenir to keep the memories sharp.”

Something else across the cart caught his eye, and he wandered off. I was about to follow when a woman stopped me and introduced her daughter.

“Sorry to bother you,” she said, “but Blanca wanted to say hello.”

The girl, maybe eight or nine, peered at me with big eyes and a shy smile.

“We’ll be at the game tomorrow,” the mom added. “Blanca plays youth hockey.”

“I love the Warriors,” Blanca said. “I watched you win the Cup last year.”

There was no universe where I wasn’t going to stop and talk hockey with a kid.

Blanca’s mom dug something out of her purse for me to sign, and after I handed it back and they walked off, Chuck had returned.

“Sorry about that,” I said.

“Don’t apologize. You just made her entire week.”

“Find something?”

“Yeah.” Chuck shifted on his feet while he rubbed the back of his neck. “If you don’t like them, or if this weirds you out, say so. The lady said I can return them.”

I hesitated. Chuck wasn’t the type to second-guess himself, and I wondered what was up.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” I said. “What do you have?”

He lifted his hand, revealing two matching woven bracelets draped across his palm. Tiny silver hockey-stick charms hung from them, catching the California sun.

“I-I thought…” He blew out a breath and ran a hand through his hair. “M-maybe we could wear them, if you’re cool with it.”

Something in my chest twisted, like a screw tightening a little too much. “You mean…” My voice cracked a little. “As a symbol, right?”

“Yeah.” He dipped his head again, then forced himself to meet my eyes. “We’re committed, and I thought it would be nice to have something, just for us. Will you wear it?”

Fuck. I am officially the luckiest guy alive.

“Hell yes, I will.” I grabbed one and turned it over in my fingers, admiring the careful craftsmanship. “This is legit, not one of the cheap ones.”

“I wanted something that would last.” His voice was quiet. “Nate?”

I looked up, and my heart juddered when I noticed his smile. “I love it,” I said. “You couldn’t have found anything better.”

“Hold out your hand, then.”

As we slipped the bracelets onto each other’s wrists, the moment crackled with so many feelings our fingers fumbled. I couldn’t stop staring at them as the gravity of the moment sunk in.

My heart hammered like it wanted to break free of my chest, and I raised my head and smiled. “You’re the first person I’ve ever wanted to be with, and I started at the top. Hopefully, I can live up to it.”

Chuck’s eyes glimmered in the sunlight. “You’re living up to it every time you take a breath.” His fingers ghosted over the inside of my wrist, sending shivers up my arm. “I love you, Nate.”

“Love you too.” I wanted to kiss him, but between the heavy emotions and the weight of being out in public, it was hard to lean in. We rocked on our feet, both of us glancing around, until Chuck tapped my bracelet. “To be continued in private.”

“Oh, babe.” My voice was rough, strained with everything I wasn’t saying. “You’d better believe it.”

We wandered onto the sand, took off our shoes, and walked by the water. The waves rolled in, steady and endless, lapping at our ankles as we waded in knee-deep.

Chuck yelped. “Holy shit, that’s cold.”

I barked out a laugh. “What happened to your love for California?”

“It does not extend to hypothermia.” He shuddered dramatically. “Jesus.”

We abandoned the water and found a spot on the beach, sprawling out under the afternoon sun. The warmth seeped into my back, and when Chuck stretched out and rested his arms behind his head, I rolled onto my side to watch him. I shifted closer, not quite touching him but near enough to feel the heat radiating off his skin.

We talked, but not about anything serious—mostly team stuff and tomorrow’s game against the LA Riptide. Chuck teased me about my obsession with winning faceoffs, and I ribbed him about how long he took to tape his stick.

Out of nowhere, he said, “This is a perfect day. Time with you, and no pressure. Everything’s exactly the way it should be.”

The words resonated deep inside me. Was it because I agreed, or because I knew things never stayed this perfect forever?

Silence settled between us, and Chuck reached over and laced his fingers through mine. The world tilted. It was such a simple thing, but it was a landmark—our first time holding hands in public in broad daylight.

My heart raced, but it wasn’t from fear; it was from the sheer, breathtaking knowledge that he loved me enough not to care who saw. I squeezed his hand, a silent promise to do my best not to fuck up.