Page 31

THIRTY-ONE

Jethro

My heart is pounding. If he rejects me, it will kill me. Now that I finally understand that there is more to life than hockey. And that I probably already ruined any chance I ever had at a future with Clay.

He lets out a hot breath, and I wish I could see his face. Then again, my bravado might not hold up if I had to look him in the eye. He’d be able to read my desperation as easily as he reads an opposing team’s weaknesses.

“We can’t,” he finally says.

“Why?” asks the blood pounding in my veins. And other places.

“A player and a coach?” He puts his head in his hands. “Do you even have to ask that question?”

“You really think the rules are the same for us?” I snort. “There’s no coercion here. And you sure weren’t my coach the first hundred times we got tangled up together.”

He groans, and I like it. It’s the sound of a man who never forgot how hot we are together.

“Besides,” I press. “Who’s going to know?”

“Me,” he says grumpily.

I put my hands back on his shoulders and squeeze gently, and he seems to melt under my touch. “You want me to go? I’ll go now. But I still haven’t heard a real objection.”

“You want to know the real problem? Fine.” Suddenly he stands, whirling to face me. His color is high, and his eyes are flashing the most beautiful shade of blue. “It will mess with my head. I can’t just blow off steam with you and shake it off in the morning. I never could. Happy now?”

Oh shit .

“Oh shit,” I whisper. “ Clay .”

He looks away, his expression pained. I stand up and cup his face with one hand, gently turning it to me. “I’m sorry. I’m an ass.” I stroke his cheek with my thumb. “I never meant to mess with your head. And this is not just blowing off steam for me. It really never was.”

His face reddens, and he moves from my grasp. “Damn you, Jethro—seriously—for saying every damn thing I wanted to hear, but fifteen years too late.” His eyes flash with anger. “You have the worst timing in the whole damn world.”

Like that’s even a surprise? “No wonder I got shelled tonight, then,” I say.

He gives me a look of profound exasperation, and I brace myself to be evicted from the room.

“What the hell am I going to do with you?” he asks.

It’s a fair question.

But then Clay answers it, and not the way I’m expecting. Suddenly, his hands land on my chest and he gives me a shove, forcing me roughly backwards. My knees hit the bed, and I topple onto the mattress.

“You are a giant pain in the ass,” he says in a graveled voice.

“I’m sorry to hear that. I really like your ass.”

The growl he makes is full of violence, and his mouth has curled into a snarl. He leans over me, bracing both hands on the bed. Then he drops down to give me the angriest kiss in the history of kisses.

For a split second my reflexes fail me. Clay’s kiss is all pressure and heat, and all I can do is lie there and take it. But I’m a greedy man, so I catch on soon enough. I pull him into my arms and then down onto my chest, the way I’ve been aching to do since I walked into this room.

He growls again, forcing his tongue into my mouth, as if to teach me a lesson.

I don’t need schooling on this, though. I’m riled up and ready as I slide my tongue against his and moan.

“I hate you,” he says fervently, in between deep pulls of my mouth.

“Okay,” I slur.

“You’re a force of chaos in my life,” he says before nipping my bottom lip.

“I know.”

“Stop it,” he demands. “Stop being nice.”

There’s a problem with angry kissing—you both have to be angry. And I’m not. As Clay deepens the kiss, I’m so filled with relief that I could cry.

I thought this was gone forever. I thought I’d driven away the only person who ever loved me. But here he is, trying to fuse his body onto mine. So I stroke his back with reverent hands, and I soften my mouth under his, taking everything he’s giving me.

Our kisses roll on. Time stops, and nothing matters. Not my save percentage. Not my reputation. Not all my scary responsibilities. Just this. Just him, and the burning need to get closer.

Clay moans, making a sound like he’s in pain. And maybe he is, because there’s a very hard cock lined up against mine, asking for relief. Good thing I know what to do with that. I press an elbow into the mattress and roll us both so I’m on top.

He gazes up at me in surprise. Like he can’t figure out how we arrived at this moment where I’m snaking a hand down his body and yanking down the waistband of his boxers. I slip a hand inside and wrap my palm around his hot length.

“Fuck.” His blue eyes look dazed.

I’m still half afraid he’s going to tell me to stop. But fortune favors the bold. “Take off your shirt,” I demand.

By some miracle, he does, shucking it off to reveal toned abs that make my mouth water. I don’t resist. I kiss my way down his stomach, making his skin tremble.

“Christ,” he pants.

Kneeling, I nose across his V-cut. My movements are slow, lazy, but inside I’m chaos—heart pounding, limbs shaky, mind staticky with desire as I finally reach my prize and kiss the tip of his erection.

He shivers, then sinks his fingers into my hair.

“Mmm.” I take him into my mouth, breathing in the warm scent of his skin as a drop of saltiness hits my tongue.

He curses, and his hips twitch.

Triumph flares inside my chest. His desperation does things to me that I haven’t felt in years. I take him deep and give a hard suck.

More cursing, which makes me grin. And then a pair of hands scrambles for my shirt. “Take this off,” he says. “Take it all off. I want to see you.”

I sit up tall and tug off my T-shirt, flexing all the muscles in my chest.

“What, is this the Chippendales?”

“You asked for it,” I point out.

He sighs. “I did. Go on, then. If I’m going to break all the rules, I might as well get the full experience.”

I’m not a fan of his rules, but I’m too smart to argue. I stand up and drop my shorts, kicking it away with the enthusiasm of someone who’s getting exactly what he wants. And then I wrap a hand around my aching cock and give it a few slow pumps.

Clay makes a pained gasp. “Bring that over here.”

“In a minute,” I tease. But the truth is I’m desperate to be touched, and I only hold out another few seconds before I climb onto the bed and sink onto his body, skin to skin, the way I crave.

And as I lower myself down for another kiss, I take in his flushed face, and heated eyes that only mirror my own expression. He groans when I kiss him, and I moan as he slots his tongue into my mouth again.

Then the kiss catches fire, my nerves snapping and popping like live wires in a thunderstorm. Our hips churn, and our hands are everywhere at once.

“Slow down,” he pants into my mouth.

But I can’t take it slow. I don’t even remember the meaning of the word.

“Baby, slow ,” he says.

Baby . Nobody calls me that. I think I like it.

He rolls to his side, taking me with him. He runs a hand down my flank, and his lips find my neck. His stubble has me breaking out in goosebumps as his questing hand finds my sac and strokes.

“Don’t want it to end yet,” he whispers hotly in my ear.

I take a gasping breath. “I like your hands on me.”

“Yeah? How about my mouth?”

I moan.

He snickers. “Hold on a sec.”

I breathe deeply while he rolls away, grabbing something off the floor. I hear the snick of a bottle opening and a moment later he returns to kneel on the bed. When he touches me again, slicked-up fingers find my sac.

“Jesus,” I gulp as my arousal climbs. The wet heat of his mouth suddenly envelops my cock, and I make an unintelligible noise. “Clay,” I gasp as soon as I remember to breathe. “ Yes .”

His response is smug silence and brain-melting suction.

I thread my fingers through his hair and wonder what I did to deserve this. And maybe he’s still trying to teach me a lesson, because his pace is relentless. Like he’s trying to make sure I remember everything I once gave up.

“Cl-clay,” I try again as my spine starts to tingle. “I’m close.”

He backs off a little. But then his slick fingers wander past my taint and into my crease. When he breaches me, I take a shaky breath. We never did this. I’d thought about it, though.

The sensation is…odd. I haven’t decided if it’s pleasurable, but I part my legs anyway. Whatever Clay wants, I want, too.

With a groan of approval, he leans in to distract me with his wicked tongue.

And wow. I’ll never get sick of that. After a couple of minutes, I’m gripping the sheets with both hands. Then his finger makes a beckoning motion inside me, and I almost levitate off the bed. Holy …

He hums around my cock, and the vibration makes my limbs tingle. “Clay, I…” That’s as far as I get.

Suddenly everything is white noise and splendor. I’m coming and cursing and seeing stars. I let out a shout and bear down on his wicked finger, and the sensation drenches me in pleasure until I’m panting. Until I can barely remember my own name.

After, I have to work to catch my breath. I open my eyes and find Clay staring down at me with heavy-lidded eyes, jacking himself.

“Let me.”

He shakes his head. Then his jaw softens, and his eyes close, and he makes a low, soft sound as he comes. It’s the most moving sight I’ve ever seen in my life.

I only hope he won’t hate me for this later.