Page 24

Pope

“Because you didn’t have to worry about being rejected?”

He nodded. “Because I didn’t have to be rejected, shunned, or bullied.

Hockey…” he blew out another breath of winter mint.

“The fans love Pride night. They love the rainbow flag. They support us, but there are players... People in management and some owners who think just because I like men, I’m going to harm them somehow.

Worse, there are the fans who think like the owners, too. ”

I couldn’t even imagine how that felt. The league wanted to be recognized for their contribution to the community, but not for supporting their athletes.

Sounded like a bunch of bullshit to me. Then again, I wasn’t in Thierry’s shoes.

I couldn’t possibly understand what it was like for him. “Why didn’t you just walk away?”

“Like you?”

I nodded, wincing slightly at his tone. “Yes.”

He shrugged, tugging at his shirt. “I love the game.”

Fuck. How easy was that? He would endure anything to play. I despised the idea someone would hate him just because he didn’t like women. “Enough to not be you, though?”

“Yeah, I guess so. I’m in the middle of my thirteenth season, now as a coach, aren’t I? Have a scandal at my back to boot.” His shirt ended up with his jacket on the floor. “Fuck.”

I swallowed hard. The act of him undressing seemed too intimate for me to be witnessing.

His tanned, muscular torso surprised me.

I hadn’t seen him without a shirt on in years.

Now, seeing him like this, sent a mini wave of something akin to arousal through me.

His nipples were hard. A shade or two darker than his skin, and surprisingly one had a barbell through it.

I wanted to run the tip of my tongue over the hard point and hear the sound Thierry made when he got excited. He gazed at me expectantly. His lips parted while his pulse throbbed at his neck. I blinked, then said, “Yeah. You’re right.”

“Pope,” he groaned. “Don’t do this to me now.”

“Do what?” I asked, getting defensive.

“Stare at me like you’re about to eat me alive.”

The idea had promise. “I’m not. Besides, you’re drunk. You’re probably seeing three of me right now.”

“Yeah, but you’re the one in the middle.” He closed one eye and bit his tongue in concentration before laughing. Then, as if spotting the pillows on my couch, his demeanor changed. “You don’t have to sleep on the couch in your home, asshole.”

“But I wanted you to have the bed,” I replied. “I was being nice, dick.”

Thierry flipped me off, then held his hand out to me. “You can stay here in this bed. Come on, Pope.”

“Are you sure?” I question taking his hand in mine. His palm was calloused, rough from repetitive use. My hands had been the same way years ago while I played. No matter how thick of gloves I used or how much I taped up my stick, my palms stayed calloused.

“Of course, I’m sure.”

I should have declined. Not been a greedy bastard.

Thierry wasn’t in the right state of mind for me to be asking questions.

Nor climbing into bed beside him. He probably wouldn’t even remember how he got here in the morning.

But, if this was our only night together, I’d take it. Just to be close to my best friend.

After grabbing my pillows and shucking my clothes, I climbed into bed.

The most expensive thing I owned, besides my tattoo equipment, was this bed.

Thierry rolled over facing me as I slipped beneath the covers.

Again, the intimacy of the moment ratcheted up a few hundred degrees.

Nervous energy replaced my exhaustion. I wasn’t sure where to lay or put my feet.

I didn’t want to drag the blankets up too much and not leave him with any.

Fuck, I never worried this much about a woman’s comfort before, and that sentiment definitely made me an asshole.

“There’s one thing I do wish more than anything,” Thierry said, trying to keep his eyes open.

“Oh? What’s that?”

The corner of his mouth lifted and some of the tension bled from his features. “I wish I would have told you how much I loved you, Pope. I longed for you to say the same.”

Before I could react to his statements, a snore exited him, and he’d fallen asleep.

I rolled over onto my back, staring up at the stained popcorn ceiling.

My mind raced. My heart hammered. Thierry loved me?

Maybe he said something that sounded like Pope or love.

It’d be conceited of me to think he’d say my name or the L-word together.

That was crazy. Doesn’t matter anyway. By morning he’ll have forgotten everything you talked about.

That thought sucked more than being able to ask questions.

I closed my eyes, praying sleep would come in short order so I’d have a reprieve from my restless thoughts.

But every time I closed my eyes; I saw images of Thierry in my mind.

Most of all I saw his smile and those few seconds took my breath away.

I might not understand what was happening to me or why I felt this connection to Thierry, but here I was, unsure what I wanted to happen next.

At some point, I must have fallen asleep.

I knew I’d be dragging ass in the morning.

Tonight was worth it, as far as I was concerned.

I’d do it all over again if I got the same results.

However, when I woke again, narrow rays of pink filled the apartment as the sun rose over the Smokies, ending our time together.

By the time the sun came up fully, we’d retreat to our respective corners and continue with our lives. That sucked most of all. I didn’t want to return to my empty existence.

As I stared at the wall across from me, I was cocooned in a warmth that was draped across my body like a heavy, comforting blanket.

I tucked closer into the sensation, snuggling down until I heard Thierry’s groan, and his arms slip around my middle.

I stiffened, not sure what to do except wait to see how the moment played out.

“This is different,” he whispered, his voice thick and scratchy with sleep. “I always wake alone.”

I swallowed hard. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” He rolled us so I was facing him, inches from his face. Lying like this, it was as if we were sharing secrets, we didn’t want anyone else to know. “Tell me one thing. Did we do anything last night?”

Besides argue and piss each other off? “Nope. I’d never take advantage of you or the situation like that.”

“Didn’t think you would, but we could have both been drunk,” he said with a tiny smile hooking his lips.

“You have me there,” I replied. “Though I enjoyed being able to reconnect with you.”

“Good to know,” he stated. “Will you kiss me now?”

I drew back an inch not sure if he was serious or still wasted. “Uh?”

“We both know you want to, Pope. I’m on the level. I want you to kiss me.” Thierry cupped my cheek, and a shiver went down my spine. A combination of excitement and arousal swirled low in my belly.

“You’re the first guy I’ve ever kissed,” I murmured, hating the fact my cheeks burned with embarrassment. “You’ve always been my first kiss.” Seemed my confession meter was full, and I had tons of shit to unload.

He groaned. “I knew I was your first. I really wanted you to be my first, too.”

Wait. What? Was he serious last night about all that?

A million thoughts raced through my mind as we stared at each other while the sun came up.

Three hours of sleep would never be enough to carry on this conversation, yet it seemed, ready or not, we were having it.

“I don’t know what to say. I prepared myself for the idea that you wouldn’t remember what you said. ”

Thierry laughed. The full-body, though equal parts sleep-filled sound, hit me square in the chest as his face lit up with humor and desire.

“I hate to break it to you. I remember everything. Also, I’m a natural bottom, but I also wouldn’t mind if one day, you let me top you. If we’re being honest with each other.”

The fog covering over my brain evaporated as I put two and two together. I jerked, shocked by his confession. “Holy shit.”

“Holy shit, indeed,” he agreed.

My mind reeled from the knowledge. Honor and fear settled in the forefront of my mind. I should have backed away. Should have said no, I wasn’t looking for something like Thierry offered. Instead of saying as much, I closed the distance between us. “Please don’t regret this.”

He shook his head. “I’ll never regret this for as long as I live.”

The second my lips met his, I groaned. They were soft, plush, and warm.

I adjusted our position so I could deepen the kiss.

He rewarded me with needy little moans that built in the back of his throat.

Thierry’s hands went to my chest. His fingers explored my body, but it was his nails that had me sucking in a breath.

Thierry scraped my nipple, playing with the hard point before teasing the ring attached there.

My hips flexed with each tug and pinch of his fingers.

Fire raced through my veins. Arousal bloomed across my senses.

Even my dick throbbed for attention, spilling precum over my tip.

I moaned Thierry’s name, breaking away to catch my breath. This shouldn’t feel so fucking good.

“What’s this?” He wrapped his free hand around my cock, and I saw stars. “Fuck, Thierry.” I didn’t know what I wanted him to do—let go or make me come.

“Later,” he said. “We’re not ready for that.”

I agreed. However, the wet sounds from stroking me along with the way he attacked my mouth—taking over when I’d been too stunned to start anything for the time being—sent me spiraling out of control.

I rolled my hips, desperate for relief. The idea I could get hard and maintain my erection, while also wanting to fuck Thierry, surprised and thrilled me.

Maybe I wasn’t giving myself enough credit.