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holky

I had to go into Dog’s room and jump all over the bed again to get him past “Ng,” “Ah,” and “Ten more minutes.”

“No more fucking minutes,” I said once his eyes were open. “Morning skate’s in less than two hours, and if we’re late to anything on game day, Criswell benches us.”

“Sounds like fucking college,” Dog grumbled.

“What can I say? He’s old school, and he took the Warriors from the basement to the Cup.” I slapped Dog’s ass through the comforter. “Now get the hell up. We’re missing breakfast at the barn, so I’ll go fry some eggs.”

We barely made it in time to change into practice gear and hit the ice. Criswell always kept morning skate light on game days, so we did a long stretch and warm-up, followed by a few easier drills—double pass transitions, inside-outside gaps, and pass shooting.

Dog and I took quick showers and stopped by Scionti’s for our pregame meal. We ordered the same thing, unsurprising since half the league probably ate pasta, chicken, and veggies on game days.

After sharing our stories last night, we ate pizza and watched a few episodes of The Simpsons , a favorite for both of us. We laughed more than I expected and ended the night with another quiet hug before heading to bed. This morning, neither of us brought up what we’d talked about, and that was okay. We weren’t each other’s therapists; what we needed was someone who knew the truth and could have our backs.

“Ready for a pregame nap?” I asked as soon as we got home.

Dog chuckled. “You probably figured out by now that I’m always up for a nap. What time do we have to be at the barn?”

“Four-thirty. Game’s at eight.” I glanced at my watch. “It’s one-thirty now, so unless you’re one of those weirdos who likes to shower before a game, we can sleep for two hours.”

“Perfect. I’m definitely not one of those.”

We stopped in the hall outside our rooms, and I gave him a serious look. “You’re really hard to get out of bed. If we wake up at three-thirty, you’ll need to be ready to leave in fifteen minutes. Will that work?”

“My suit’s in the closet, and I know where everything else is, so fifteen minutes should be fine.” He flicked an imaginary speck of lint off his sweater and shot me a sideways grin. “Lunch was great. I like Scionti’s.”

“That’s good. I’m not sure we could be friends if you didn’t.”

Our eyes met, and something tightened in my chest. “We should go to sleep. I’ll come get you in two hours.”

I stripped down and climbed into bed, expecting to fall asleep quickly. Instead, my brain lit up and took off for the races. The last few days played on a loop—every look, every breath, and every word either of us had said, plus some I hadn’t said. We’d been up front with each other when we told our stories, so I wondered if I should continue the same level of honesty. I could tell him I was confused as hell and maybe—possibly—sort of attracted to him, so he could help me figure things out.

Right. Nothing seals a friendship like confessing you’ve got feelings you don’t understand for your new roommate.

The harder I tried to relax, the more awake I was. My thoughts were sprinting laps, and now that I was overthinking everything, my body decided to get in on the action by freezing. Goddammit, why can’t I remember to reprogram the heat? I yanked the covers to my chin, but they might as well have been made of tissue paper. My muscles twitched, the room was cold, and all I could think about was how my bed felt too empty.

An idea occurred to me: hockey players took naps together all the time. Travel days, long road trips, and hotels took a lot out of us, not to mention that we were human and got lonely. As a result, we sometimes napped on the same bed with a teammate. It wasn’t weird, and there was never any touching. Why not do it at home? I was cold and couldn’t settle down, and Dog was right out of the minors, where he might’ve had to share a bed at night sometimes.

I could take a blanket down the hall and say something like, “Hey man, I can’t sleep. Mind if I sprawl on top of your covers?” We’d both played hockey most of our lives, so it wouldn’t be a big deal. It was perfectly normal.

Unless it wasn’t. What if he said no? Or worse, what if he thought I was trying to make a move? Would he tell me we couldn’t be friends and move out?

Nah. He’d probably say, “Sure, no problem.” We were both straight, and he had no reason to read anything into it other than what it was.

I stared at the ceiling, then at the door, and then back at the ceiling.

Fuck it.

I tossed the covers back, swung my legs over the side of the bed, and got up. Cold or not, confused or not, I didn’t want to be alone. I grabbed a pair of basketball shorts, pulled on a T-shirt, picked up my blanket, and went to find him.

Then I hesitated at the guest room door. He was probably already asleep, so should I risk waking him? If he wasn’t sleeping, I sure as hell didn’t want to walk in and catch him jerking off or something. Shit. I knocked and waited for the all-clear.

“Yeah? Come in.”

I opened the door, and—oh, come the fuck on. He was propped against the headboard, shirtless, pecs on full display like a cover model on Inspiration to Keep Working Out . I froze as my eyes locked onto him. Dog had muscle definition I could only dream about.

He shifted, and the comforter slid to his thighs, revealing his abs and obliques. I almost turned around and ran. He had at least a twelve-pack, and that little V-cut was incredible. I’d tried for years to get one of those, but it wasn’t in my genes.

“What’s up?” he asked.

It was time to stop staring, so I dragged my gaze to his face. His eyes were warm, his expression easy. He obviously hadn’t been asleep, but it seemed polite to ask anyway. “Did I wake you?”

“No. Been restless, to tell the truth.”

Roughly a million butterflies took off in my stomach. I stood frozen barely inside the door, rethinking every decision that had led me here. Had I seriously walked into a teammate’s bedroom—while he was in bed—for no real reason?

Eventually, I managed to say, “I’ve been restless too, and it’s freezing in my room. I was wondering…”

He raised an eyebrow and waited.

I shifted my weight. “Would you think it was weird if I asked… Could we nap together?” I held up my blanket. “I’ll crash on top of your covers.”

“No, not weird.” His eyes widened, and— holy shit —he licked his lips. “We used to do it in Syracuse sometimes.”

Damn, what color are his lips, anyway?

He fixed his eyes on the wall opposite the bed. “Did you want to ask if it would be weird to ask? Or if we could do it?” His cheeks turned red when he looked at me. “If we could nap, I mean. Together, you know. Like… take a nap together?”

I snorted. “We used to do it all the time in college. Hell, sometimes we were two to a bed, two beds to a room.” Dog remained quiet, so I blundered on. “It wouldn’t be weird, or at least it wouldn’t for me. I think if we did it… napped together, I mean… I’d be able to sleep. And since you were restless too, what do you think?”

He hesitated long enough to make me wonder if I’d lost my mind. Finally, he nodded. “No problem. I’d like it. Like being able to sleep, I mean.”

My shoulders relaxed, and I exhaled for what may have been the first time since entering his room. “Great. Should I turn around while you put on shorts?”

“I’m wearing some. Can’t stand trying to sleep in a shirt, but I usually keep my boxers on.”

“Same.”

His eyes followed me as I walked around the bed.

Everything is fine. This is perfectly normal.

My mind went blank when I looked into his eyes, and it took a moment to remember what I was going to say. “Could I?”

He snickered. “Could you what?”

I grabbed the hem of my T-shirt but didn’t lift it. “Take off my shirt.”

“Yes.” His voice was low, rough around the edges.

He tracked every inch of movement as I peeled the shirt off and let it drop to the floor. The air was cool on my skin, but his eyes were all fire. Suddenly unsure of what the hell I was doing, I hesitated before climbing onto the bed.

His gaze drifted down my torso, paused at my shorts, and then slowly made the return trip. I could feel the weight of it, like a warm hand trailing over my skin. When his eyes landed on my chest, something flickered in them, and I felt a jolt all the way down to my toes. And when he finally looked into my eyes again, I gripped the edge of the mattress to keep from shaking.

He hadn’t just looked at me; he’d taken me in. Every inch, and every detail. A weight lifted from my shoulders as I realized I wasn’t the only one feeling this. That should’ve helped.

But God help me. If he was feeling it too, there was no telling what might happen.

I pointed at the bed. “Okay?”

He rolled his eyes. “I already said yes. But why don’t you get under the covers? I’m cold too, and you can spread the blanket over both of us.”

I lifted the edge of the comforter. “You mean, get under this with you?”

“Yes, and hurry. You’re letting the cold air in.”

“Sorry.” I slid in beside him, and while he helped me spread out the blanket I’d brought, I said, “We’ll reprogram the heat when we get home tonight. I’ve been too lazy to do it.”

We both turned, me onto my left side, and Dog onto his right. For a while, we stared at each other, and I noticed things I hadn’t before. His hair was curlier than I’d thought, and his skin was paler. I could still see the top of his chest, where the little dip under his throat began the rise into his pecs. What does he do to get a body like that?

“Do you have a workout partner?” he asked.

“No. I used to work out with Carson, but he’s gone for the season.”

A crooked smile tugged at Dog’s lips. “I know. That’s why I’m here, remember?”

“Fuck off. Why’d you ask about working out?”

“I don’t have anyone to exercise with, and workouts are crucial. Could we be partners? You’re built like a fucking Norse god, and I want to learn your secrets.”

I snorted. “You think I’m built? Buddy. You’re a poster boy for The Ultimate Guide to Looking Jacked .”

He furrowed his brow. “Is that a real magazine?”

“No, but they should create it so you can be the centerfold.”

“Centerfold? Will this be a nude magazine?”

I was speechless, caught like the proverbial deer in the headlights.

After we laughed, his eyes found mine again. “It’s okay, then? We can work out together?”

“You’re on, bud.” I couldn’t resist scrubbing a hand over his chest. “Ready to get some sleep?”

His breathing evened out in a couple of minutes, but I remained awake, watching him. Is it creepy to watch your roommate sleep?

After a few minutes, still chilly, I inched nearer to him, stopping as soon as I was close enough to steal some body heat.

Dog let out an indistinct sound—half-moan, half-snore.

I relaxed, and my gaze drifted from his slightly parted lips, to the stubble along his jaw, and the arm he’d thrown over the pillow on the other side from me. It was bent so his bicep was flexed. His scent surrounded me, body wash from the arena mixed with a musk I’d noticed before. It was enough to start trouble.

My mind drifted back to the team shower after morning skate. Dog and I had stood across from each other. The memories slammed into me, the lazy way his cock and balls hung underneath him. They’d begged me to look, and I hadn’t been able to resist. Water was running down his body and over his cock, then rolled off the tip in a thin stream. We finished washing off at the same time, and I couldn’t help noticing the beads of water on his skin and the careless way he’d dried off, half-talking, half-laughing as he skimmed the towel over himself. He either didn’t notice, or didn’t care, how exposed he was. But with a body like that—and one of the biggest cocks on the team—why should he?

I’d looked too long, and now I couldn’t stop imagining it. His cock had weight and presence. Now, mere inches away from him, forbidden thoughts filled my mind. I imagined what it would be like to have his dick in my hand, warm and heavy, twitching as I stroked him. If I did it now, would he moan? Would he shift in his sleep and instinctively thrust against my palm?

My itching fingers curled into the sheet.

Jesus, what the hell am I doing? It was only a weird fantasy, right? It must have been triggered by the months I’d gone without sex and the vulnerability we’d shared last night. I didn’t actually want Dog; I’d needed to fantasize about being that close to someone again, and there he was—warm, easy to be with, and very close by. He was my buddy, and we were both straight.

Fuck all. Even if watching your roommate sleep wasn’t weird, lying a few inches away from him with a massive boner sure as hell was.