Chapter 13
Dylon
M y head spins, and I’m drunk off his kisses. His tongue against mine brings me higher than any drug I’ve ever experienced. I’m floating on clouds, delirious because his body is next to mine.
Lars pins me to the bed with his body weight, the fluffy white comforter billowing around us. He rips it out from under us and tosses it on the floor. He’s a heavy human blanket, lighting me up like the Vegas strip at night. “You can have me to yourself only if I get you all to myself,” he says in a way that reaches my heart and takes hold like he won’t let go. Ever. His piercing blue eyes puncture my soul, and I would walk barefoot through fire all the way to Vegas for this man.
He’s so familiar, yet brand-new. I’ve watched his trapezius muscles as he lifts weights, and now I know the curve of them under my fingers. His eyes crave more as he touches me with hungry hands.
My greedy fingers run the length of his back until I grip his meaty ass and squeeze. His moan electrifies me. My palms are full of his power as he swivels his hips. He can deadlift four hundred and twenty pounds, and those legs are steel on top of mine.
My hands move through his thick hair to the corded muscles of his neck. This blows all my expectations out of the water, and I can’t get enough. I’d spent the past two days running from the conversation we needed to have. But we could’ve done this last night. We could’ve been doing this every night .
He’s been the constant in my life for the past few years, keeping me grounded. The progression of us feels inevitable, as if my very existence has been waiting for him. Yet, it’s surreal to jump into a physical relationship.
My heart beats so fast I’m sure it’s pounding against his chest. A blue whale’s heartbeat can be heard from two miles away. The team on this floor could hear mine if they listen hard enough. A rhythm so fast, it’s possible it will swim away and take up residence with Lars.
He shaved this morning, but his stubble scrapes against my facial hair, and that somehow becomes an erogenous zone. I’m a cat rubbing my face all over his, and his happiness fills my heart. I’m the one who makes him smile and laugh.
There’s nothing soft and gentle in the way he touches me. He’s possessive, as if claiming every inch of me. He fists the front of my T-shirt and hauls me up, ripping it off and tossing it over his head.
Lars’s eyes devour me, and goose bumps form along my arms. A single finger traces over my four-leaf clover and I shudder. After my shoulder injury, I regretted the tattoo, but his finger reminds me of why I got it. The clover symbolizes luck, but it’s a tribute to my hard work and how fortunate I am to do what I love. When he traces the outline with his tongue and kisses the center, I’m grateful all over again.
My nipples pucker into stiff peaks, and he lowers his head with his eyes on mine and bites one, worrying it between his teeth. I bow off the bed, which creates friction on our cocks.
I groan, so close to the edge. He must sense it because he slides to the side with his hip next to mine, separating our dicks. Aggravatingly, he stops kissing me when I try to pull him back and presses our foreheads together.
“Dylon.” His raspy voice scrapes out of his chest, but he doesn’t say anything else.
Talking’s overrated, and I need his lips back on mine. His hum vibrates in my chest as his thumb fits in the hollow of my throat while his fingers stroke my hammering pulse.
“I fear we are going too fast. ”
“Fast? We’ve had months of foreplay. And finally, finally , I’ve got you where I want you.” My arms twine around him.
“Finally.” He smirks and kisses the tip of my nose. A childlike kiss should not make my heart skitter. “How long have you wanted this?”
“Don’t make me math. I hockey. I don’t math.” He lets me tug him back on top of me.
“I have wanted this for,” he checks his expensive watch I picked out with him, “two years, five months, three days, and give or take ten hours.”
My mouth falls open, and he closes it with a calloused finger.
“Kidding. Sort of. I have had a crush on you for ages.” He smooths my hair back from my face.
“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” I mentally try to go back in time and remember if he said or did anything. All I can remember are the flirty things I said.
Lars’s exhale fans my cheek. “Sit up,” he demands, and I immediately do as he asks, even though it’s the last thing I want. “Dylon, I’ve been your friend for a few years, and you have never had an interest in men. It’s a real thing to recognize that in another person. This is new for you, and you should take your time to figure it out.”
“But we’re not new,” I insist petulantly.
“I would never add another burden on top of your goals to stay sober and play hockey. Once you made the commitment, you worked your program and have not faltered. This is your time to become your best self, and I am selfish for not leaving your room tonight.” He runs his hand through his hair.
There’s a pang of guilt because I’ve never told him about the temptation and cravings. That would be the opposite of helpful here.
“You’ve been my rock, and I want you to be more.” I reach out to hold his hand, and when he laces our fingers together, they fit perfectly.
“You’re not out of the first year of your program. It’s not recommended you start a relationship yet,” he argues.
“I’m only forty-three days short, and if you tell me to wait those days until we can kiss again, I’m going to beat your ass,” I argue back. Of course Lars knows the protocol of the program and presumably the days of my sobriety. He requested duplicate copies of the literature and researched everything online, as if he was going to become an addiction counselor.
His eyes burn my lips right before he kisses me, taking all the air from my lungs. I drown in him, not needing air as long as he’s here to breathe for me.
“I am too selfish to stop kissing you. Not unless you ask me to,” he says as he continues to kiss me. “But.” He retreats and I chase his lips. “We need to take this slow.”
As I’m about to protest, he says, “For our friendship and the team. I will not risk losing what we have, so that means being clear and intentional. And we cannot let our personal life onto the ice or in the locker room.”
“Do I get a say in this?” He’s so sure, but if we’re doing this, he can’t dictate the terms of our relationship. “Don’t make me feel less than you because I have issues. That’s not fair.”
His eyes soften, and he presses his firm lips to mine in our first chaste kiss, causing the hair on my nape to stand up.
“You’re right. But I want you to be sure this is right for you.” He searches my eyes for uncertainty. He won’t find any.
“Fair,” I concede, only so he’ll listen. “But for this to work, it has to be a partnership. Otherwise, there will be a power imbalance, and I’ll always be trying to prove my worthiness to you.”
The rest of what I’m about to say is cut off as Lars attacks my mouth with a growl. “You are worthy of everything. Don’t doubt that.”
“Noted,” I say breathlessly. “First of all, you will never be a burden. Friends, lovers, more, it doesn’t matter. You lift me up, and I don’t think you’re capable of weighing me down. It’s not who you are.” I cup his jaw and relish his stubble under my thumb as I stroke his face.
“And you make me a better person. You showed me a different life than I’m used to. I never knew how ingrained drinking was in my everyday life. It’s what my family does, work all day and come home and relax with alcohol. Yoga and meditation were for other people, not me because I can’t sit still. You showed me I can and drinking isn’t relaxing.” It’s so hard to unlearn bad habits. I thought everyone had a few drinks daily.
“I would do anything for you.” His arms sneak underneath me, and he binds me in a reassuring hug.
“I know. You make me want to be the best version of myself. A version that can have fun and play pro hockey and not drink so when I wake up in the morning, I’m ready to tackle the day. To do all that for you.”
Lars murmurs in Swedish, and his face burrows into my neck. “Do not aim too high as to be a morning person.” He becomes serious. “Be that person for you. You deserve the best, with or without me. I cannot be the reason. What if something happens to me? You must do it for you.”
“Nothing will happen to you,” I say with surety, yet unease slithers along my spine.
“None of us knows the future. I could live to be a hundred or have a life-changing injury tomorrow. The people you signed up for the WCHL, most of them were not born unable to walk. It happens.”
“I would take care of you like you’ve been taking care of me.” I hold his head tighter.
“I know, k?raste , but you must care for yourself too. Never forget that.”
I love the nickname, and even though I don’t know what it means, my breathing slows, soothing my doubts as we lie in silence.
Before Lars, I could never sit in a room with another person and not fill the void with mindless words. To me, silence was the equivalent of rejection and had to be attacked and eradicated. Which usually meant I would do all the talking and no listening.
“Are you willing to give us a try?” I whisper into his hair with my eyes screwed shut.
“Yes, but—”
“No buts. ‘Yes’ is a complete sentence.” Lars huffs because he often tells me “No” is a complete sentence.
“We cannot go from friends into a serious relationship after our first kiss. ”
“Lars Drakenberg, are you saying you want to take me out on a date? I’ll dress up pretty for you.” I’m not expecting the punch to my ribs. “Hey,” I yell with fake outrage.
“Yes, we should date like most couples do.” He caresses my stomach, and my abs contract under his hand.
“Most couples don’t already live together and see each other naked a few times a week.” It’s in a team shower, but I still see his body.
He groans but not in a good way. “I will have to start using the private showers. I won’t be able to see you and not have a reaction.” His hips jut forward so his erection rams my thigh.
Pride fills me with that statement. The unflappable Lars can’t resist me. “In your version of taking it slow, do we get to fuck tonight?” The answer won’t be the one I’m hoping for, but it’s worth asking. Just in case.
He scoots up to rest his head on the pillow and tugs me onto his chest. “Today has been monumental. You set boundaries with your family and had your first kiss with a man. The conversations around coming out can be exhausting. Now you need to sleep. The plane leaves early tomorrow morning.”
“You sound so reasonable. Where’s my breathless Lars who can’t keep his hands off me?” I pout and try to tickle him, with no reaction. Not even a flinch. Figures.
“Sleep,” he commands, and my eyes drift shut.
“Don’t be too proud of me. I still called my uncle’s bar and bought a round of drinks for everyone there to make up for any lost business.” My lips rain kisses on his shoulder.
“Small steps. I will always be proud of you. And I would bet your uncle’s place had an increase in business with the possibility of your arrival. You explained your team commitment. They cannot expect you every time you fly into Detroit.”
I sigh because they do. And if I don’t, I’m a selfish, terrible son. They’ve drilled it into me since I went away to college.
“Thank you.” With his heartbeat under my ear, envisioning all the naked things we’ll do together, sleep finds me in minutes.