Chapter Fifteen
FINN
THE NEXT DAY
Sleep didn’t come easy last night. How could it, when one explosive kiss tilted my entire world on its axis?
I’ve always known I was different, especially in high school when my classmates wouldn’t shut up about how hot they were for someone—instant attraction—and I wondered why I didn’t feel the same.
It was only when I got to know Simone, first as a friend, then as more, that I finally clued in that my dick and my heart were hardwired to work in sync.
But this isn’t high school.
Sel’s my professional teammate.
Crushing on him is one thing, but that kiss? Holy fuck, it blew any kiss I’ve had out of the water and then some. Another piece of my sexuality puzzle pops into place and I guess this means I’m bi as well as demi? Hitting the pro hockey league isn’t the only major change going on in my life.
Even hours after leaving Sel’s room, my body’s hot and restless with need. I’ve never been more turned on in my life, shit, I’ve never been this excited for sex before, like if I don’t get my fix of Sel’s mouth in the next hour, I’m gonna go out of my mind.
It takes me longer to warm up, but once I do, look out.
Thankfully, Kuznetsov spent the night elsewhere, so I had the hotel suite to myself.
Good thing too, because I barely got inside my door before I unzipped, spat in my hand, and jerked my throbbing dick so hard that when I came, I cried out Sel’s name and my vision blanked.
After I slid down the door and caught my breath, I crawled into the nearby bathroom, grabbed a towel, and mopped up the jizz I spilled all over myself and the carpet.
But that wasn’t the end of it.
I showered, dried off, and tumbled into bed, exhausted and hungering for sleep.
Unfortunately, my dick had other plans, and my imagination was only too happy to help.
Filthy images flashed through my mind: Sel naked and stretched out underneath me, his thick thighs wrapped tight around my waist, his pretty mouth driving me insane.
Damn, the sexy sounds he made and the feel of his skin slapping mine as we fucked was intense.
Next thing I knew, I was fisting my cock and scored again, flooding the sheet with so much cum that I felt guilty and decided to leave an extra tip for the cleaning staff…
With the sunrise, though, reality surfaces.
It starts when Kuznetsov steps into our room with his sunglasses on, a huge smile in place and a couple of hickeys on his neck.
He pauses when he enters our room, but he doesn’t say anything except, “Good morning,” and “Order a shit ton of food from room service.” The room smells like spunk, but thankfully, I get no ribbing about it.
He hits the shower first, while I order breakfast. After we eat, my roommate grabs his stuff and heads out, while I hit the bathroom.
I should be calm at this point, but alone in the shower, wishing I was alone with Sel, my cock grows stiff again. Next thing I know, I’m frantically stroking myself off and painting the tiles with a record load of cum. At least in here, I can easily wash away the evidence.
Scoring a hand-job hat-trick should have me relaxed, but I’m still wired.
It’s only when I get dressed that I glance at my phone.
It’s been silent all night, and while I’m disappointed, I’m not surprised.
My hands itch to text Sel, but I’d prefer to say what I want to say to him in person.
I’m hoping he feels the same. I’m so caught up in my head that I keep ignoring the problem I don’t want to face: Sel’s off limits, and I should back away.
Then I don’t have time to worry about it because my phone pings with a reminder that I need to grab my shit and get downstairs to meet the guys for our bus to the airport.
Our flight to Toronto leaves in a couple of hours, which means I have to get my ass moving.
Since I’m more than distracted, I check my room twice to make sure I didn’t leave anything behind, and when I’m good, I grab my bags and head for the door. A flutter of nerves in my belly kicks up, swift and strong.
As I make my way out of the hotel, most of the players are lined up for the bus.
But not Sel. I don’t see him until I step on board.
He’s with Berg, sitting in the back row, the two deep in quiet conversation.
Disappointed, I take an empty seat at the front, beside Sorensen, and we get talking.
I don’t know how I make conversation, but I do it, even though my mind is on the hot defenseman seated at the back.
Once everyone’s on board, we’re ready to roll. The rumble of the bus engine kickstarts my brain.
Sel didn’t even make eye contact with you.
What if he didn’t feel the same way about our kiss? What if it wasn’t good for him and I fucked up our friendship? This time, the nerves in my gut turn to a gnawing ache, and I place a hand over my belly.
“Drank too much last night?” Sorensen asks. “Are you gonna vomit?”
“I hardly drank at all. It’s probably motion sickness,” I explain. “I’ll be fine.”
I won’t be if I screwed everything up with Sel.
“Just don’t barf on my fit, rookie. It’s designer.”
Despite my anxiety, I laugh.
“I’ll do my best.”
After a long ride—no throwing up—we arrive at the airport, check in with security, and grab snacks before the flight.
Sel and I circle each other but never make direct contact.
Not until we get on the plane. He’s already got his window seat and his gaze is fixed on the tarmac. Is he ever going to look at me again?
Fuck this.
I stalk toward him, shove my carry-on in the overhead bin, and plant my ass in the seat next to his. “Hey.”
“Morning,” he mutters.
“It’s afternoon.”
Sel slowly turns his head toward me, and I’m relieved to finally make eye contact.
Up close, there’s no mistaking his pretty brown eyes are bloodshot.
Do I look the same? I’m running on too much adrenaline and too little sleep, but being near him again is such a fucking rush.
A vivid replay of our kiss hits me, and I feel like I’m taking off. Is it the plane or is that my heart?
“Miss me?” I tease.
I catch the flare of heat in his gaze, and it gives me hope.
“What do you think?” he whispers.
I’m about to reply when I notice Sel’s gaze veer past me, his shoulders tensing. Following his line of sight, I spot Berg staring at us. Suddenly, he looks away, shoves his headphones on, and closes his eyes.
“You should move seats,” Sel adds.
I freeze, confused.
“What? Why?”
“Please,” he implores. “Sit somewhere else.”
His words sting, but I can’t ignore the worry etched on his face.
“Later,” he murmurs. “I’ll be in touch later, I promise.”
I lower my voice. “Text me?”
Sel nods and returns to staring out the window.
I casually stand up, move down the aisle, and grab the seat next to Makela.
The physical distance between me and Sel isn’t far, but it might as well be.
The loud chatter on the plane resumes as the rest of the players settle in.
My thoughts spiral, and I don’t want to talk to anyone, so to distract myself, I select a movie—I doubt I’ll remember any of it—and try to figure out what Sel’s going to tell me.
We can’t do this again.
It was a mistake.
What if he doesn’t want to talk about it at all?
Sel promised he’d contact me later.
The only thing I’ve got is faith in his word.
Sel
I wanted things to be different this morning.
But there was no knocking on Finn’s door, or greeting him with a slow, sexy kiss. Instead, I headed for Berg’s room as instructed and got my second wakeup call of the day. A real one…
“Is there something I should know about?” Berg asked me point blank.
“No, why?”
“I’ve heard talk from someone about your relationship with Finn.”
“What about it?”
“They mentioned Pike Place and inferred there’s more going on than a partnership in hockey.”
Somehow, I managed to put on my game day face.
“I was sightseeing with a colleague, nothing more,” I insisted. “And you know we have history, friends in common. Is it really that surprising that we’ve become friends too?”
I was amazed at how calm and rational I sounded. Good thing Berg’s not a mind reader. Captain stared at me for a long second and then nodded. He bought it.
“Alright. That’s what I thought, but you know how shit gets stirred. I’ll shut it down.”
“Who’s talking about us? It’s Brady and St. Clare, isn’t it?”
Berg doesn’t give me a direct answer. “I said I’ll quash the rumor.”
“Good,” I replied sharply. “Because if they start harassing Finn, I’ll be the one stirring the shit, and loudly.”
Berg raised his eyebrows.
“What?” I snapped.
Captain didn’t say anything else, except, “Maybe it’s best if you keep your distance from Finn until we hit the ice in Toronto.”
“This is ridiculous. Now I need to censor who I can and can’t hang out with?”
“I’m not saying that—”
“Yeah, it sounds like you are. If I were straight, this wouldn’t be an issue, would it?”
Berg looked embarrassed.
“I’m sorry. I’m just trying to protect both of you.”
“We don’t need it. I protect myself and my friends, including Finn.”
I stomped out of Berg’s room and back to mine…
Maybe my reaction was over the top, but it was too late to take it back.
I hate lying, and to my captain of all people, but why confirm something that isn’t true?
Yes, Finn and I kissed, but’s that’s the end of it.
We’re not having sex, we’re not in a romantic relationship.
Why fuck up Finn’s life—and mine—over one kiss?