Chapter 11
TAYLOR
I closed my eyes and pressed my forehead against my arm, which was braced on the shower wall. My other was still around my dick, which was still rock-hard, and I just stood there for a long moment, the shower pounding on my back as I shook and tried to catch my breath.
I hadn’t made a sound, had I? Nothing that would carry out of the bathroom to where my roommate might still be awake?
It wasn’t like this was the first time I’d beat off on the road, and I was sure Brown and every other roommate I’d ever had had done the same, but it felt different this time.
More conspicuous, and more like something that would be mortifying if it got out.
Sighing, I pushed off the wall and faced the spray, letting it rinse away the cum. I was stupid. That was all it was. Nobody—not Brown, not anyone else on this team—was going to catch on that I’d been fantasizing about Vasily with my hand on my dick.
Well, okay, they might. Hoskins had thought we were flirting, and he apparently wasn’t the only one. But as far as Brown knew, I was just grabbing a shower after the long day, same as I usually did.
I was overthinking it and I didn’t even know why.
Except I did know why—because they’d all probably think I was batting way out of my league to even fantasize about Vasily Abashev.
Hoskins thought Vasily had been flirting with me, but…
I mean, if the guy was interested, things would’ve happened differently last summer, right?
As I finished my shower and dried off, I reminded myself Vasily and I had talked that evening through.
When he’d balked, it had nothing to do with me.
But that didn’t mean he was into me now, or that anything could, would, or should happen between us.
I mentally ticked off all the reasons it shouldn’t happen.
Teammates. Temporary teammates. Out of my league.
It was a hot fantasy, but that was all it was. Maybe now that my hard-on had been dealt with, I could get my brain around that idea.
Yeah. About that.
Long after lights out, long after Brown had started snoring quietly in the other bed, my mind was still firmly on Vasily.
If I’d been a little less tired, something else would probably be firming up along with it.
And hell, that was still a possibility, because fuck me, I could not stop thinking about my linemate.
His smile. His eyes. That gorgeous body. He was such a nice guy, too—chill and sweet, great with the younger players.
And then there was Vasily the hockey player. He was so controlled on the ice—the thought of him losing control in bed was too hot for words. Especially if I could be the one making him lose that control.
I closed my eyes and bit back a groan.
So much for not getting hard again.
Edmonton was not having a good night, and we took full advantage.
Well, “we” meaning the Everett Orcas. Including myself in that was… disingenuous.
By the end of the first period, I was pretty sure I’d set a personal record for turnovers in one game. Probably a record for the whole league. And three of those turnovers had resulted in scoring chances, one of which had become a goal against. I was on a goddamned roll .
“Wils,” Coach growled as I took my place on the bench. “This isn’t a bakery—let’s go easy on the turnovers, all right?”
“Yeah, Coach. Got it.” My face was on fire, and I tried not to die as my teammates chuckled around me.
Vasily nudged my elbow. “That last one—it wasn’t completely your fault.”
“Not completely,” I muttered. “But I sure didn’t do much to prevent it.”
He didn’t gainsay me. “Eh. Period’s almost over. Second will be better.”
I studied him, wondering where in the world he found that kind of optimism in my play after my abysmal shifts tonight. But then I forgot all about turnovers and hockey and what were we talking about? Because… fuck me. Those were the same eyes I’d seen while I’d been getting off last night.
I cleared my throat and faced the game again, my cheeks even hotter than before.
Vasily leaned in and murmured, “Focus, Wils. We’ve got this.”
Gritting my teeth, I nodded. We, as in the team, had this.
We were up 3-1. Me? Playing alongside him when I could still remember how hard I’d come while I’d imagined fucking him?
Shit, maybe I should try something dirty and get myself thrown in the box; even handing Edmonton a power play didn’t sound as detrimental as staying on the ice.
Would Coach or Vasily get mad if I asked to be bumped down a line?
Maybe give one of the other wingers a shot at playing alongside Vasily?
Hell, Coach would probably jump at the chance; I was amazed he didn’t have smoke curling out his ears after my last couple of shifts.
Another fuck-up like that and bumping me down a line or two would be his idea.
Luckily, we were near the end of the period, so my line didn’t have to hit the ice again.
Now we had an intermission to cool off, hydrate, and—in my case—pull my stupid head out of my ass.
Which would’ve been a lot easier had my locker stall been literally anywhere else on the planet than right beside Vasily’s .
Considering how many people seemed to have clocked that I was into Vasily, couldn’t Coach and the equipment managers pick up on it?
Maybe yell at us for distracting the team, separate us, and not let us anywhere near each other until Vasily’s conditioning loan was up?
Because that was probably the only way my dumb ass was going to play hockey at a professional level for the foreseeable future.
Fuck. What was wrong with me? It wasn’t like Vasily was the first teammate I’d ever had a crush on. Hell, I’d hooked up with one and dated another during my time in major juniors.
But they weren’t Vasily. They were cute, and we’d had fun together, but Vasily was…
God, he was on another level.
I selfishly wanted him to stay here longer than his two-week stint. I also selfishly wanted that stint to get cut short so he was sent back to Seattle and I could get back to playing hockey at the level they paid me to play.
I was such a stupid mess for him. And why? It wasn’t like I had a shot with him.
Maybe that was why—we all want what we can’t have, right?
Except then his gaze would snag on me and linger for a beat too long. And his smile would be just a little brighter when it was directed at me. Somehow, we always found our way to each other, whether at a dinner table or on the bus, and he always seemed pleased to find himself beside me.
Or I was imagining things.
As were my teammates who were sure Vasily and I had been flirting on the bus.
I closed my eyes, pushed out a breath, and then grabbed my water bottle.
I sprayed some ice-cold water in my mouth, focusing on that and how it made my teeth ache.
For fuck’s sake, I’d played against an ex-boyfriend before.
My second year of major juniors, I’d had one of those super-dramatic teenage breakups, and just thinking about him had made my hormonal brain short circuit with anger, sadness, and a million other emotions.
Two months later, there he was on the visitors’ bench, then beside me during the opening faceoff.
It fucking sucked, but I’d played my heart out and hadn’t let him get to me.
And he’d tried, too, chirping far below the belt in an attempt to throw me off my game.
Vasily was just… here. Existing. Hot as fuck, cute as hell.
Sure, we’d gotten off on the wrong foot in the beginning, but we’d put that to bed, and we were fine.
If I could play through the teenage angst of being in the same place as my dickweasel ex-boyfriend, I could sure as shit play as an adult alongside a man who made me horny and stupid.
I glanced over at him.
That… was a mistake.
He’d stripped off his jersey as we sometimes did to cool off. His black base layer clung to his powerful body, and his pads and chest protector made him look unreasonably hot.
More cold water, then. Much more.
Fortunately, Coach distracted us all with his intermission motivational speech. He didn’t single me out, which I appreciated; he knew I’d heard him on the bench. If I didn’t get my shit together starting next shift, I’d be hearing from him one-on-one.
That actually helped me focus. I hated getting reamed out by a coach.
Those one-on-one conversations terrified me; even now, it made me feel like a kid getting chewed out by a teacher.
I’d hated that as a kid, and I hated it even more as an adult.
Avoiding that was enough to get my head together and make me play like a pro.
I did play better the next period. Still some turnovers I wasn’t proud of, but I also managed a couple of shots on goal.
I racked up a secondary assist on Cams’s goal, too.
Then in the third, I scored myself, which made me feel a million times better.
I was still going to be a basket case as long as Vasily was on the team, but I could do this, damn it.
We soundly beat Edmonton, but there was no time to celebrate. The powers that be had us playing in Winnipeg the day after tomorrow, and since we were the plebs of the PHL instead of the superstars of the NAPH, that meant a bus ride.
So, after we’d all showered and eaten, we piled onto the bus for the thirteen-plus hour ride.
And fuck me…
Vasily sat right beside me.
I did a little mental fist pump in the same moment I tried not to panic. He was absolutely the source of all my distraction tonight, and for that reason, I simultaneously wanted to be as close to him and as far away from him as possible.
He glanced at me and smiled. I returned it.
And oh my God, this was going to be the longest bus ride ever .