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CHAPTER THIRTEEN

TUCKER

I was nervous. Not piss my pants nervous, but close. When I’d woken up alone in Vegas, I kind of wanted to pancreas-punch the person who left me in the hotel room without my legs or my memory. When I found out I accidentally got married to a total stranger who was coming to see me, I kind of wanted to run and hide.

And then Amedeo showed up with his dimples and his wild hair, and shit. I was a goner from the moment he opened his mouth and stuttered his first hello. And now, I was about to have him—provided I didn’t fuck this entirely up between now and the time it took to get to his bedroom.

I thought for another second about bringing my hockey bag inside to use my stubbies around the house, but I didn’t. I was going to wait. I wanted to wow Amedeo with my dick skills before he saw me waddling around like a toddler with no knees. He could like me all he wanted, but it wasn’t a turn-on. Anyone who found that sexy had a fetish, and I was not about that life.

The only thing I wanted was to make sure my body didn’t turn him off. I could live with the rest.

“Do you need anything out of—oh.” Amedeo started to talk, but I lost control of myself and bossed him against the wall. Knocking his ass into the plaster with my hips, I rubbed my dick against his as I kissed him with long, lush pulls on his tongue.

“Hi,” I whispered when I pulled back.

His eyes were heavy-lidded, and his gaze was a little foggy. “Mm. Hi.”

I kissed him again for the lust-thick way he said that two-letter word. “Hi.”

“You said that.”

“So I did.”

He put a hand to my chest to stop me before I could kiss him again. “I feel like we’ll be more comfortable in the bedroom.”

He was right, and my post-game ass would not thank me if I gave in to my urge to try and take him here in the foyer. Neither would my hips. I’d attempted to get acrobatic on my prosthetics a handful of times, and it never went well. I’d had a hookup a few years back with the Razors’ goalie. They were only a couple of towns over, so he was easy to see whenever I got in the mood.

He was an incomplete paraplegic with a decent amount of butthole sensitivity, and he loved it when I’d hold him up and rail him. We usually used his trapeze he’d had installed over his bed to get in and out, but one day, I decided to be adventurous and fuck him in the kitchen.

My hips still hadn’t forgiven me for it.

I threw myself out of commission for six weeks, and my team was less than thrilled with me. So, I decided to take Amedeo’s advice, link hands with him, and let him lead us to the bedroom.

When I saw it, I was a little shocked for a second. It was all florals with a very high four-poster bed, which wasn’t him at all. Then I remembered that this wasn’t his place. It was a little rental in a middle-class neighborhood—a stark reminder he was just a guest here.

That no matter what I wanted or how good it was, it wasn’t going to last.

He lived an entire country away from me, and I most definitely did not do well with long distance.

“You okay?” He tugged softly on my hand after I’d come to a complete stop in the middle of the room.

I wasn’t. But I also was. I was with him, and in the moment, that’s all that needed to matter. Curling my fingers around his hips, I tugged him close and bent down to devour him with another needy kiss. He groaned and melted against me.

“You have to tell me what you like,” I said, moving to nip and suck at his neck. He shuddered, so I bit down a little harder. “And what you don’t. I want to make this good for you, Deo. I want you to forget for a little while.”

“Forget what?” he asked, breathless.

“Anything.” Kiss. “Everything.” Another kiss. “I want the world to be just you and me for tonight.”

He moaned softly and turned his face, tugging on my hair to bring me back to his mouth. He kissed me like he wanted it—like my words were important to him. Like I meant something. “I don’t have condoms.”

Neither did I. I was on PrEP, and I’d just been tested since the whole Vegas thing, but I wasn’t going to ask him to trust me.

“We can do other things tonight, and I’ll make a trip to Walgreens tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” he echoed.

I pulled back to look at him. “You’re not leaving tomorrow, are you?” I realized right then I had no idea when he was supposed to go back.

He shook his head and bit his lip, his expression shy. “No. My flight isn’t for a while yet.”

That wasn’t a concrete answer, but it was good enough for now. I went back to kissing him, slowly backing him toward the bed until his ass hit the mattress. He leaned into it as I bucked my hips into his, and I knew if I stayed here long enough, I could come just from this.

It had been so long—especially now that I knew for sure nothing had happened in Vegas. I was primed to go off like a fucking bottle rocket.

I was going to paint him in come if I wasn’t careful.

“Didn’t you say something about too many clothes?” he asked, putting a hand to my chest.

I blinked down at him. “Ooh. Okay, demanding.” He flushed, and I nipped at the pink flooding his cheeks. “I like it. And yes, we do have way too many clothes. But uh…I need a piss first. Once I take my legs off, getting in and out of this bed is going to be a giant pain in the ass.

He grimaced, then looked around. “I have an idea. Come with me.” He seized my hand and pulled me out the door and through the one across the hall from us.

Inside was a small room with no bathroom, and the bed there was huge and practically on the floor. It was nothing more than a box spring and a mattress.

It was perfect.

“Okay,” I said, giving an impressed whistle. I tucked my fingers into his belt loops and hauled him back so I could rock my stiff dick against the globes of his peachy ass. “I can get behind this. Do me a favor and get comfortable while I do my thing.”

“Your thing,” he echoed with a smile. He turned and surged in for one last kiss before letting me go. “Leave the door open so you don’t have to mess with the knob after you take your legs off. There’s no one here to bother us.”

That was true. The beauty of no meddling roommates, though Boden had seen pretty much everything I had on offer. And he’d never been impressed with it, though I think he might put up a fight if I start dragging my sex-butt all over the living room floor.

I didn’t turn to look behind me as I headed into the bathroom, and I shut the door with a firm click before flicking on the light and finding the toilet. It was a small space, so I dropped my jeans and kicked them off my feet before pressing my knees to the sides of the toilet bowl.

That had been a trick they taught me in PT when I was learning to see the world through one eye. Who knew I needed both eyes for accurate aim?

I was better at it now. My aim was amazing. Not just in the toilet bowl but shots on goal, and now hopefully going after this one thing that I wanted more than I’d ever wanted anyone in the world.

Not even my ex had gotten my heart rate up the way Amedeo did.

I loved her as much as I’d been able to love anyone back then with my bitter anger toward my family and my hyperfocus on my hockey goals. And that was probably unfair to her, but I was a different man now.

Maybe better, who knew.

But at the very least, I wanted to be. Even if I couldn’t keep Amedeo, I knew right in that moment I wanted to be someone worthy of a guy like him.

Shit, I was all worked up again. I washed my hands, splashed water on my face, then stared in the mirror with my nose a few inches away so I could see myself clearly. I turned my head slightly from left to right, then pulled on the dark bags under my eye.

I wasn’t at my best, but I wasn’t at my worst. I’d showered after the game so I didn’t smell like a gym bag, so yeah. I was alright. All I had to do now was open the door, cross over the hallway, and climb into bed with him.

Simple as that.