Page 17 of Wrap Around (Forbidden Goals #7)

GIDEON

I go to bed more tired than drunk. After all the food and the mountain of dishes, most of the wine has worked its way through my system.

I probably could have driven home, but I was too in my head.

I'm tired on an emotional level, and also wanting to hold on to the feelings tonight brought me for a little while longer.

The feeling of friends and family; the laughter and light.

Being around Silas without everything hurting quite so much. At least until we were alone.

There are fleeting moments when I think I can do this. That we can be friends. Maybe never like we once were, but close enough that Lily can be happy.

If only I could stop myself from fantasizing about him. From falling asleep to the memory of his arms wrapped around me…

I wake up with a start. I'm covered in sweat, heart pounding.

The dream fades quickly, but not fast enough that the images don't linger .

Sweat. Steam. My back slamming into cold, wet tile. Silas' hands in my hair. My mouth on his throat. His body pressed into mine.

I groan into the pillow, dragging it over my face and pressing into it to muffle my yell of frustration. "Fuck!"

It was just a dream.

I have to shake it off. Forget it happened. It's just a dream. A stupid, steamy, locker room fantasy that my traitorous brain decided to play in high definition while I was unconscious and weak.

I stare down at the sheets tangled around my legs from my restless tossing and turning, and scowl at my tented boxers. This can't happen here. I need a cold shower or something before anyone else wakes up.

Uncomfortable and irritated at myself, I crawl out of bed. I crack open the door and step out, only to run straight into the star of my very vivid sex dreams. He looks like he just woke up too, and it's doing nothing to cool my engines. His hair disheveled just like after I used it to…

No. Nope. Not going there.

I look behind him at the door he just emerged from. Not the primary bedroom. Not where I know Lily was sleeping last night. A detail that sticks and lodges itself into the forefront of my mind, making my brain short-circuit for a second.

"Sorry," Silas mumbles, his voice gravelly with sleep. "Thought you'd still be asleep."

I freeze. My body is not cooperating right now, and I do not need him noticing the way I'm holding my hands in front of my crotch right now.

"Did you sleep okay?" he asks, his eyes flicking over me. They pause at my knees, likely checking the bare skin for how well they’ve healed, and then back up to my face.

I don't answer. Instead, I turn around, march to the bathroom, and lock myself inside.

A few minutes later, after I've brushed my teeth and given my dick a stern talking to, I go back to the guest room to get dressed in the clothes I wore yesterday.

I can smell coffee and bacon being made downstairs.

After breakfast, I'll head straight to the practice rink.

I have some workout clothes to change into there, and a few extra laps will help clear my head.

The door to the bathroom closes as I emerge from the guest room, and I hear the shower turn on.

The door to the room Silas came out of earlier is cracked open just enough for me to peek inside.

It opens wider when I step into the space, lured in by the potent smell of every good childhood memory I have and the spicy deodorant Silas wears.

The room is furnished similarly to the guest room, except for a desk set up in a cutout alcove on the far side of the room.

The space is lined with bookshelves filled with various sci-fi novels that I know Silas has always liked.

He had to read them in secret when we were kids because his father didn't approve, he kept all the books he got from the library in his locker at school.

There are various models and figurines on the shelves with the books, and posters on the wall.

It tells me two things. One, that this is definitely Silas' room.

And two, that he's finally getting to enjoy the things he wasn't allowed to in his childhood.

I'm still confused why Silas has a separate room, though.

Having a nerd room or man cave seems normal enough, but the bed is clearly slept in, and the open closet door shows me a full wardrobe of clothes.

My mind spirals with all the possible explanations for Silas sleeping in a separate room when I hear the bathroom door open. Shit .

The last thing I need right now is to have to explain why I'm snooping around. Then again, maybe he could explain to me why he doesn't sleep in the primary bedroom with his wife.

I step out of his room just as he's about to enter. He stares at me incredulously and opens his mouth to say something, but Adaline's door creaks open and her little voice calls out for her daddy.

Saved by the toddler.

Silas grins widely and walks past me to go scoop her up.

I flee the scene.

Morning skate helps a little. It burns off the worst of the nerves. I stay on the ice well after the rest of the team leaves, hoping to avoid any conversation in the locker room. The repetitive motions, the speed, the smell of the ice help to calm and center me.

Until I hit the showers.

The tile. The steam. The echo of running water.

My brain betrays me again, flashing through images of my dream from last night.

Hands. Mouths. Desperate gasps for breath.

I look up into the spray of the water, letting it beat down on my face like I can rinse the images away.

The ache that has been with me since I woke up this morning—hell, since Silas showed up in this locker room and sent my life into a spiral—flares to life.

There's no ignoring the throbbing need between my legs.

I take myself in my hand and stroke languidly, trying and failing not to picture all the things Silas Caldwell did to me in my dreams last night.

With his hands… his mouth… his gold-flecked hazel eyes looking up at me like I'm something to be worshiped while his tongue ran over the vein along the underside of my cock.

I turn and put my back to the wall, pressing back like when Silas pushed me up against the tile.

I stroke faster, remembering what it felt like to tangle my hands in his hair and guide his mouth up and down…

Fuck.

I shoot into empty space, my cum splattering against the wet floor and circling the drain instead of being swallowed down.

It's not the first time I've jerked myself to a fantasy involving Silas over the years, and I'm sure it won't be the last. Even the handful of times I've had my dick in a real mouth, I've closed my eyes and imagined it was him.

Moaned his name and everything. Not that they minded, they were there for a mindless, faceless fuck just as much as I was.

Our game against Minnesota goes pretty well.

It's a tough game, in a good way. The game is hard, fast, and physical in all the best ways. It’s the kind of game that leaves bruises and adrenaline highs.

I feel superhuman, so much so I can’t even feel the pain in my knees.

It reminds me why I fell in love with this game in the first place.

We win by one goal just before the end of the third period, narrowly avoiding overtime.

The whole team is all smiles, patting each other on the back for a game well played.

I wave into the crowd, where Lily and Addy are cheering.

Addy's bouncing up and down in her tiny jersey that all the guys signed for her.

Valdez, Ives, and Landon skate by them to give her high fives through the glass .

It should be the most beautiful, wholesome moment imaginable. But my mind is still in the goddamn showers, not able to forget that dream. If anything, my little jerk-off session only left me more unsatisfied, and I'm stressing over the long string of away games we have ahead of us.

The next morning, we board the charter flight to Ottawa and the start of our brutal road stretch. I'm sitting beside Tim Landon, who is holding an e-reader but hasn't started reading yet. Finally, after we've been in the air for a little while, he turns to me.

"Can I ask you something?" he says quietly.

I nod, a little concerned about whatever he's been stewing about for the last ten minutes.

"The other night, at dinner, when Ives told us about his husband. You didn't say anything, but you looked pretty uncomfortable."

My stomach turns, and I wonder if he can hear the way my tongue clicks inside my suddenly dry mouth. I don't say anything, waiting for Landon to get to whatever point or question he has.

He huffs. "I just wanted to make sure there wasn't going to be a problem.

You've been on this team with us for a little while, but we haven't gotten to know you as much as some of the other guys.

You keep to yourself, and that's cool or whatever.

Ives is a good guy, and I don't want there being any kind of problems."

"I don't have a problem with Ives," I say quickly, interrupting him before he gets too worked up.

Landon studies me, squinting like he might not believe me.

"Just because I lead our team in prayer doesn't make me some kind of religious nut.

And being religious doesn't automatically make me a homophobe or whatever you're thinking.

I left that life for a reason," I say, then roll my lips before I say too much.

I never talk about my past, where I come from, or why I left. "I was just surprised, that's all."

"He's a good guy," Landon says.

"I know he is. And I'm happy for him."

He nods slowly, accepting me at my word.

I mean it, too. I'm truly happy for him, and as much as I told Silas off for pointing it out, there was a small part of me that was comforted by the knowledge that I wasn't the only gay person on our team.

But his insistence that Lily would be okay with it?

I'm not sure about that. My family talked a big game about love and acceptance, but I know the judgement they held in their hearts.

She might be fine with one of our teammates or friends, but if she knew it was her brother?

She might feel differently. More than that, if she knew about me, would she be able to see through my relationship with Silas?

Would she guess that the reason we fell out was because I was in love with him and he didn't want me in return?

There are too many unknowns.

I doze off somewhere over Lake Superior. When I wake up, my head is leaning on a shoulder that smells a little too comforting. My stomach drops.

I blink blearily, looking up into Silas' face.

He smiles and raises an eyebrow. "Good dreams?"

I sit up fast, rubbing my face free of any evidence that I'd been dreaming about him at all.

"Where's Landon?"

"He moved to the back to play cards. I switched places with him so I could keep reading," he says, holding up a worn paperback book. "You okay? "

I nod and look out the window, mentally calculating how much longer we'll be on this plane.

The real answer is no. I'm not okay. I'm not looking forward to this week on the road. I'm not ready to spend every night listening to him breathe, not when I've been so on edge and dreaming of him every time I close my eyes.

Not when just the smell of him so close to me makes me feel dizzy with need.