Chapter 17
ETHAN
“Holy fuck.” I flopped onto the bed beside Jake, panting hard and trembling even harder. “I need… I need to watch you fight more often.”
He laughed breathlessly, sinking onto his stomach. “Did it really turn you on that much?”
I eyed him. “Pouncing on you in the car wasn’t a clue?”
He studied me, then chuckled and wiped a hand over his face. “Good thing I won, then, isn’t it?”
“Pfft. If you’d lost, I’d have sucked you off as a consolation prize, then fucked you until you screamed.”
His eyebrow rose. “So… how exactly would things have played out differently than they did tonight?”
“It would’ve been a consolation prize.” I shrugged. “Otherwise, pretty much the same.”
Jake laughed and rolled his eyes. “I think you just like watching me get knocked around.”
“No, I like watching you get hot, sweaty, and focused while you knock someone else around.” I groaned and sat up. “Let me get rid of this. Be right back.”
He got up too, and of course, we ended up in the shower again. We had, after all, worked up quite a sweat. Things didn’t get spicy this time, though. After two orgasms apiece, not to mention Jake’s fight earlier, we were both out of gas.
That was fine. I had no complaints about standing in the small shower, arms around his neck as we kissed lazily.
This was something I’d missed after my last breakup, and definitely not what I’d expected the first time I’d crossed paths with my hot fighting coach.
I loved rough-and-tumble sex as much as the next guy, but I’d missed the softness too.
The affection. The kisses that didn’t go anywhere. The touches just because.
If Jake had been too tired or sore for sex tonight, that would’ve been fine.
There’d been a few times when a hockey game had whooped my ass, and he’d still wanted to spend the night with me.
And hell, sometimes one or both of us just didn’t feel like fooling around…
but more nights than not, we slept in the same bed.
My housemates didn’t even blink when he came out of my bedroom or the bathroom in the morning, and sometimes I’d come out to the kitchen to find him and Nate or Sven shooting the shit over coffee.
I didn’t want to get my hopes up that this was something like Marek and Carson had. At the same time… I mean…
What if it was?
What if all these fluttery stupid feelings I got whenever I looked at Jake were the real thing? What if all the affection and quiet moments were the beginning of something that ran deeper than lust and sex?
Standing here in his shower, Jake broke the kiss as gently as he’d started it, and he drew back to meet my gaze.
He’d had fire in his eyes earlier, both during his fight and during our sexy aftermath, but they were full of fatigue now.
Fondness, too, and a sweet smile, but he couldn’t hide the exhaustion.
That exhaustion came through loud and clear in the slur of his words: “I don’t think I’m going to be much company tonight. The whole evening is catching up with me.”
“Then let’s call it a night.” I slid my hands down his back. “I have to be up early for practice tomorrow anyway.”
“You don’t mind?”
I couldn’t help laughing as I lifted my chin for another kiss. “Uh, did you miss the part where you made me come twice? I’m not as tired as you are, but I’m not far behind.”
He offered a soft smile and kissed me lightly. Then we got out of the shower, dried off, and got ready for bed. Unsurprisingly, Jake was out cold within seconds of us climbing under the covers.
Out cold, with his head on my chest and his arm draped over me. His whole body was still and relaxed, a far cry from how wound up he’d been on the mat and… well, he hadn’t exactly been a passive participant after we’d come back to his place, let’s put it that way.
But now he was still, snoring softly and still holding me against him. I was ready to pass out myself, but I couldn’t drift off. Not quite yet.
What if this was the real deal? What if I’d had lucked into meeting the guy who’d end up meeting my family and becoming that permanent fixture who came to holidays and weddings and funerals? I’d tried to imagine previous boyfriends like that, and I could never quite bring it into focus.
Jake, though—I could see him in that role. Hugging my grandma. Bantering with my brothers and me. Being adorably intimidated the first time he met my dad.
Staring up at his bedroom ceiling, I carded my fingers through Jake’s hair. Yeah. I could see that future with him. He fit. He was someone I wanted to be with, and not just while we were in that “fuck at every opportunity” phase of a relationship.
Is it too much to hope he wants that too?
Frost elbowed me on the bench as the top line set up for the opening faceoff. “You’re gonna fight him again tonight, aren’t you?”
“Who?” I asked.
Frost and Keps both shot me looks that said, “don’t bullshit us, dickbag.”
I scowled and faced the ice again, watching Marek’s line battle for the puck in the neutral zone.
Max Vincent was out there, jostling with one of our defensemen, and yeah, my teammates had me dead to rights.
I was still salty after Vincent had made me look like a jackass all those games ago.
And then of course he’d spent warmups tonight giving me smarmy little smirks that, yes, had gotten under my skin.
Keps laughed and bumped his shoulder against mine. “Do it.”
I turned to him. “What?”
“What?” He shrugged, and as we both faced the action again, he added, “He’s a punk who’s always taking cheap shots and making dirty hits. Someone needs to knock him down a peg.”
“Especially after that bullshit against the Orcas the other night,” Olson muttered, all joking gone from his tone.
“Wait, what? What did he do?”
“Boarded a rookie and took him out for the rest of the season,” Olson said dryly. “Son of a bitch needs to lose a tooth for that.”
I nodded grimly, tracking the fucker in question as he headed back to his bench after his shift. Right then, he looked my way, and he blew me a kiss. My hackles were instantly up.
Keps bumped my shoulder again. “Do it, Berns.”
“You’ve been learning to fight, haven’t you?” Olson asked. “Put it to good use. Fuck that fucker up.”
I laughed, but I couldn’t lie—I was tempted. I’d never gone out onto the ice intending to fight. Some guys did that, especially the old-school enforcers, but it wasn’t my style. My fights were always spur of the moment after someone pissed me off.
Tonight might have to be an exception.
As I skated out for my shift, I glanced up at the crowd, instantly zeroing in on Jake, who was of course sitting with Carson. He smiled and waved, and warmth rushed through me. Admittedly, that momentary connection with him cooled some of my desire to throw down with Vincent.
Some of it.
Because one stoppage later, Vincent came out onto the ice for a faceoff in our defensive zone. He gave me a little smirk as he glided past me, and all that aggravation flared hot again.
I told myself to cool it, though. We weren’t even halfway through the first period, and I didn’t need to tilt the ice in the wrong direction by taking a five-minute major. Or a ten-minute misconduct, since a fight would be completely unprovoked at this point.
But if he decided to provoke me? Well, then. Game on.
After the next stoppage, he and I were both headed back to our respective benches, and he skated up beside me.
“Hey, Berns.” He elbowed me. “Heard you been takin’ fighting lessons.
” He turned around to skate backward away from me, and he grinned as he added, “Bet you think you can fight like a real man, don’t you?
” He winked and blew me another kiss. “Guess we’ll find out, pussy! ”
My temper nearly snapped, but before I could even speak, someone grabbed me and steered me to my team’s bench.
“Don’t take his bait,” Marek hissed, shoving me through the open door. “That’s his game—pick a fight, take out a player, beat the other team. Don’t fall for it.”
I huffed with annoyance, but… I mean, he was right. I met his gaze, finding both irritation and worry in his expression. “I won’t,” I assured him. “He just pisses me off.”
Marek nodded, glancing toward the away team’s bench with a scowl. “He pisses everyone off.” He clapped my shoulder with his glove, then took a seat.
I took a few slow, deep breaths to calm myself down. Marek was right. Vincent wanted to rile me up so I’d give his team an advantage. I had to keep a cool head. Focus on putting pucks in the net rather than my fist in Vincent’s face.
Toward the end of the second period, I managed to do exactly that. Shortly after Marek scored, my linemates were screening the goalie, and I whipped one in from the blue line. That put us up 3-2. Now we just needed to hold—and ideally extend—that lead.
“Let’s keep it rolling,” Marek said to everyone in the locker room during the second intermission. “We came back from being down two, and now we’re ahead one. Let’s finish the job.”
That had everyone cheering and fist-bumping. Coach added his own motivational speech, and by the time we were headed back out for the third, we were pumped. Twenty minutes of hockey left to play, and a lot could happen during that time; nobody was taking their foot off the gas, damn it.
Syracuse also came out ready to fight hard and reclaim their lead.
And Max Vincent—well, he predictably came out to be a dick.
He took an interference penalty for an open-ice hit on Marek while the puck was miles away from both of them.
Marek was slow to get up after that, which made me think the objective was to take out our players.
The two-minute minors he took were incidental compared to the bigger goal of taking our best players off the ice for the rest of the game.