Chapter 28
Twenty-Eight
Oakley
Two firm hands grip my waist as I attempt to unlock the front door to the townhouse, causing all the nerves in my body to stand at attention. Including the ones in charge of my dick, because paired with the way I can feel Quinn’s pressed against my ass, I’m sporting a full-fledged erection.
I have been all night, seeing as this guy is the biggest cock-tease I’ve ever met.
Ever since practice ended, I’ve been anticipating getting him home, naked, and under me more than I’m dying to hold that Frozen Four trophy at the end of the season.
But he threw a massive wrench in my plans by asking to grab a late dinner instead of letting me have him as the main course.
But sustenance is a good thing, and when he mentioned a hole-in-the-wall Mexican place I’d heard has the absolute best el pastor in the Chicago metro area, I was sold.
Too bad I could barely enjoy my meal with him right there in front of me, close enough to smell his musky body wash, but too far away to touch him. All I could do was stare at him across the table. Which he felt necessary to mention. More than once.
Not being one to take his shit lying down, the second we paid and were in my car, I practically hauled him into my lap for a make-out and dry-humping session.
It only lasted about twenty minutes before I couldn’t take it anymore and had to drive us home, otherwise I ran the risk of fucking him in the backseat of my car.
Which is why we’re at my place rather than his like normal. Cutting ten minutes off the drive means getting inside him ten minutes sooner.
He’s dismantled ninety-five percent of my self-control. And I’m ready to devour him because of it.
If only I could get the fucking door open.
“Jesus fuck,” I curse under my breath as I fumble some more with the lock and key. “You’re making this far harder than it should be.”
“Mmm,” he hums seductively as his tongue flicks out over the junction of my jaw and throat. “But isn’t that the entire point?”
To drive his reasonings home, he reaches around to cup my already aching cock through my jeans. I’ve been rock hard since we left dinner thanks to his teasing, and the pressure in my balls is becoming a matter of life and death.
Not kidding, if I don’t come in the next twenty minutes, I might actually die.
Thankfully, I’m finally able to slide the key into the lock and gently push the door open, finding a quiet darkness in the living room of the house.
As it should be, seeing as it’s almost one in the morning on a weeknight.
The only one of my roommates that would even think about being awake at this hour is Theo, but thankfully he’s two floors apart from my room.
Quinn continues to rub my length through the denim, and I let out a low groan before turning into him.
One hand wraps around the back of his neck, and I spin him before planting the other firmly against the doorframe.
I back him into the wood slowly, my body pressed the entire length of his, and he drops his duffle to the porch step.
“You’re trying to kill me,” I murmur, more a statement than a question. Because there’s no way I can stand much more of the tormenting he’s unleashing.
“Believe me,” he whispers back, “that’s not the intended goal.”
He grabs my chin with his hand, pulling me in for a searing kiss, his tongue flicking against mine as it parts my lips.
My heart does this weird thing in my chest as he tilts my jaw, fingers skittering along the skin there.
A sort of pulsing squeeze, like a fist is wrapped around it as it struggles to find a steady beat.
The sensation has happened more than once now, the first few times after break. But the damn slab of muscle has been doing it a lot more lately, especially since introducing him to my parents, which was almost two weeks ago now.
I’m not sure how I feel about it, or why the fuck it’s happening in the first place. Though I’m sure it has something to do with how easily he’s wormed his way into my everyday existence.
Not just in the obvious ways, like with hockey.
I mean the way he’s the first person I look for a text from in the morning, or how much my anticipation grows as I set foot into the arena, knowing I’m about to see him for the next hour or two.
He’s become the high I’m constantly looking to chase, and with that, he’s integrated himself into my life almost seamlessly.
But as flawless as he might fit into my life, we still haven’t done one thing.
Not a goddamn soul on this planet—besides Hayes—knows about us hooking up.
But as I stand here at my front door aching for him in every way possible, I also don’t think there’s any reason to keep it silent anymore.
I’m sick of hiding this and sneaking around.
It’s gotten stale, and more importantly, feels pointless since we’ve foregone every other rule set out since the beginning.
Keeping it on the DL is the only rule that’s actually stuck this entire time.
And I think it’s time for it to go too…though maybe it can wait until morning when the guys aren’t all dead asleep. The last thing they’ll want to wake up to is me mauling the guy who’s supposed to be my enemy as we fumble our way to my bedroom.
“You gonna invite me in?” He laughs softly against my neck. “Or are you planning to let me freeze out here all night after mauling me on the doorstep?”
“Now there’s a thought,” I utter before grabbing his bag from where he dropped it. “But no, I have other plans for you that don’t involve inducing hypothermia.”
A sinful expression appears on his face, teeth scraping over his bottom lip as he takes his bag from me. “Then lead the way.”
I do just that, taking his hand and dragging him through the front door until we’re both enveloped in darkness.
The door clicks shut silently behind us, and I release my hold on him to lock up for the night.
All’s going well, and just as I think we’re in the clear from waking anyone, Quinn knocks a set of keys off the entry table with his duffle.
“Shh!” I whisper-shout. “It’s like you want us to get caught.”
A disembodied sorry is whispered through the darkness, and I follow the sound until the faint form of his silhouette appears before me.
Quickly flipping on my phone’s flashlight, I grab Quinn’s hand again and haul him toward the stairs. “Follow me. And try not to knock anything else over.”
“I don’t know why you didn’t just put the flashlight on in the first place.”
“Because I know this house like the back of my hand, and I don’t need it,” I tell him as we reach my door. Quickly, I push it open to avoid the loud creak it sometimes makes, and shove him through into the safety of my room.
I cross the space in darkness to the bedside table, my hand slipping beneath the lamp shade there and flicking the bulb to life. It casts a soft glow over my bedroom, illuminating Quinn as he drops his bag to the floor beside my desk.
A smile inches its way on my face as he digs through the duffle, not stopping until his puck is in hand. He meets my smile with one of his own when he catches me watching him, his more shy in nature.
It’s probably the most innocent I’ve ever seen him.
He takes a moment to slip the puck beneath a pillow, and when he’s done, I grab his waist and drag him to me.
“One superstition down,” I murmur, my lips trailing down the column of his throat.
“Two more to go.”
Quinn’s dimpled smile flashes at me in the dim light before sealing my mouth to his in a toe-curling kiss. The kind that does all sorts of stupid things to my heart. Like ache and yearn for things it has no business wanting.
Mouth glued to mine, he backs me toward the bed, only breaking the kiss to slip my shirt over my head. He takes his time stripping every article of clothing from my body and tracing the newly exposed skin with the pads of his fingers.
The feather-light touch has my every nerve-ending on fire, burning for him.
When the backs of my knees hit the edge of the bed, he pushes me down. I fall onto the mattress alone with him still standing over me, still completely clothed.
“Well, this isn’t exactly fair,” I say, adjusting to the center of the bed.
A wicked grin takes over his face as he slowly peels off the hoodie he’s wearing, revealing a tight six pack and miles of artwork inked into his skin. “Since when does fair have anything to do with it?”
His pants go next, his underwear quick to follow, and then he’s bare. The sight of him—hard and waiting for me—is something that’s ingrained into the very recesses of my brain by now. But it doesn’t stop him from stealing my breath regardless.
One hand wraps around his shaft, and he takes long, slow pulls while he stares down at me, sprawled and at his mercy.
“Okay, this really isn’t fair,” I complain, my eyes latching onto where his palm is stroking that gorgeous cock. One I’d like to get my hands or mouth on before this is all over.
A flash of his tongue appears as he wets his bottom lip, and he continues to jack himself in leisurely strokes.
“Oh, baby,” he murmurs, sex and desire dripping from his voice as he layers his body over mine. “You know all’s fair in hate and hockey.”
There’s no denying the truth in his statement, but there’s one thing I disagree with.
I don’t hate him. And with the way things have shifted between us—so quickly and easily—I’m wondering if I actually did in the first place.
Nothing about him screams enemy.
Not anymore.
His mouth lands on mine again as he grinds his pelvis down. Our cocks rub and bump against each other, all smooth skin and blissful friction as he kisses and licks his way across my jaw and down my throat to my chest.
“Aren’t you the least bit concerned about them hearing us?” His lips trail down some more, from my pecs to my abs, on a clear path to my cock. “I mean, assuming that’s the reason we never come here.”