Chapter 5
LUCAS
The next morning, my phone alarm blared through my bedroom. “Fuck.” I tapped it off and rolled to my side.
My morning erection stretched to the band of my briefs, hotter and harder than normal. I rolled to my side, tucking my hands between my thighs. For the short time I’d slept, I’d been dreaming about Ezra. I’d been kissing him. And holy fuck, I’d been rubbing my dick on him? What the hell?
Brushing my thumb along my balls, tingling sparked in my cock. I couldn’t go to practice this horny. I had to take care of it. Like now.
Shifting to my back, I hefted onto the pillows over the headboard of my bed and lowered my briefs. As I gave my cock a slow stroke, the sensation shivered up my spine. Hell yes, this was happening.
As I bit my lip, I threw the covers down, closed my eyes and jacked my dick with quick strokes. The Ezra from my dream filled my head, writhing below me, whimpering into our hungry kisses.
I halted. What the hell was I doing? Why was he stuck in my head? I spat in my palm. I had to think of a girl. A hot as fuck puck bunny. I wasn’t queer. My brother was, but not me.
With a huff, I forced a random image of a brunette with thick lips into my head. She bobbed over my dick, her mouth wrapped around my shaft. Yeah, that’s it.
I quickened my pace and pleasure rocketed up my spine, my body tingling for release. “Oh, fuck.” I groaned. As my balls tightened, my stomach clenched. In my mind, the brunette lifted her head, flicking her…his tongue over my crown. Fucking Ezra’s sultry gaze caught mine as he devoured my cock.
My body tensed and toes curled as sensation surged, spilling hot cum over my hand and shooting my load onto my chest. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.” I panted, lost in my release.
When it slowed, I took deep breaths. What the hell was wrong with me? I was losing my damn mind. I’d have to talk to Mason after practice. I twisted my lips. Shit, could I though? Maybe I should keep this to myself for now. Maybe it would pass.
At the rink, I worked the puck with my stick’s blade and skated across the ice. I’d sucked at everything today and Coach wasn’t happy with me. How would I make it to the NAPH playing like this?
“Hopkins, are you feeling okay?” Crosby skated to my right. “Coach wants us to do another round of blue line shuffles. He thinks then we’d sync.” He pushed his stick out and nabbed the puck from me.
I stopped and hung my head. “Yeah, okay.” I wasn’t feeling it today. No amount of blue line shuffles was going to fix it. My brain kept focusing on Ezra. Was he okay? He’d have texted me if Tate showed up at his place after I left, right?
“Hey, what’s up?” He pushed on my shoulder. “You didn’t even flinch when I stole your puck.”
Glancing at Coach, who was chatting with the second line D-men, I said, “You remember Ezra, the photographer?”
“Yeah.” He batted the puck back and forth. “And his asshole boyfriend.”
“I started talking to him. The asshole boyfriend hit him.” I tightened my lips. “After talking to my brother, I was concerned. So, I went to the studio and had a coffee with him.” I didn’t need to mention my stalkerish behavior and the dinner.
“Shit, that’s terrible. Does he need help?” Crosby stopped the puck under his stick. “He seemed like such a nice guy.”
“He is and yes, I told him I’d help him.” My gaze met his. “You’ll have my back, right?” If something went down with Tate, I might need backup.
“Of course.” He patted my shoulder with his gloved hand. “You know you can count on me.” His gaze turned hard. “I hate dudes who abuse their partners, no matter their sexuality. It shouldn’t happen.”
“Photo shoots end today, right?” I eyed him. I planned on heading to the studio today, if possible. But it might appear odd if someone was there.
“Yeah. I think he scheduled Addison and Petrov for today. Are you going over there again?”
“I don’t know. Every time I do, Tate shows up and gets nasty.” My chest heated, and I scowled. “I don’t want to make things worse for Ezra.” Would he break up with Tate today? We needed a plan for it first.
“So, what are you going to do?” He narrowed his eyes.
“I’ll text him and see what’s up. He told me he wanted to end it with him.” I shifted, my gaze snagging on Coach, skating toward us. “Fuck, here comes Coach.”
“We’re supposed to be practicing our drills.” Crosby huffed a chuckle.
“Boys, what’s with the deep conversation? Is there something I should know?” Coach Sullivan skidded to a stop in front of us. “Hopkins, you need to focus. You’re too distracted.”
“I know, Coach.” With a sigh, I grabbed the puck from Crosby and skated toward the pucks set up in a line on the ice. Fuck me, I had to stop obsessing over Ezra. “Let’s do this.” I halted with the puck.
Crosby skated across from me. “You got this, Hopkins.”
After practice, I put up a valiant fight to not go directly to Ezra’s studio. I needed to eat anyway, and I’d driven Crosby to practice today. I followed him into our apartment and closed the door. “What’s for lunch?” I asked, passing him in the kitchen.
“We have leftover chicken and rice.” He pulled a large container from the refrigerator.
“Perfect.” I dropped my duffel onto my bedroom floor and fished my phone from the pocket of my athletic shorts. I’d text Ezra to see how he’s doing.
Lucas
Hey, it’s Lucas. How are you today? Did Tate show up after I left?
I chewed the side of my lower lip. What if I didn’t hear from him? Should I assume he was in trouble? Fuck.
The microwave timer dinged, and I strolled into our open kitchen. “I texted Ezra.” Setting my phone on our quartz countertop, I spooned chicken and rice onto a plate Evan had left for me. “What time were the photo shoots today?”
“I assume the same time as ours, so maybe around now and this afternoon?” He slid a plate of food across the island counter and dropped into one of two black metal barstools, then hunkered over his plate. “Hey, will you grab me a Gatorade?”
“Sure.” I stuffed my plate into the microwave, started it and peeked at my phone. Ezra hadn’t gotten back to me yet. Fuck, how long was I willing to wait? I grabbed two Gatorades from the refrigerator and handed one to Evan.
The timer went off, and I pulled my food out. We’d prepared this for dinner a few nights ago and it had been delicious. Evan had seasoned the chicken with Caribbean jerk spice and sun-dried tomatoes. After grabbing a fork, I set my plate and drink next to Evan’s and sat beside him.
“You know you may be inserting yourself into a real mess.” Evan shoveled chicken into his mouth. “You don’t even know this guy.”
“I know enough.” I ate some food, the spice heating my mouth. “He needs help, Evan.” I sipped my drink. Ezra had even said so, right?
“I get wanting to help someone who’s in trouble.” He ate more food and chewed. “But I’ve been thinking about this. A lot of times, abuse victims say they want to get out, but they don’t follow through or they’re too scared.”
“What?” Knitting my brows, I stared at him. “He wants out, believe me.” I glanced at my phone. What if I never heard from him again?
“Okay, I’m sure he does. If he takes the asshole back, what will you do? These abusers can be super manipulative.” Cocking a brow, he drank some Gatorade.
“I-I don’t know.” Fuck. He was right. I stared at my food, my hunger waning. I needed to get my mind off this situation. “Hey, what do you think about the game next week?”
“Against the Vegas Aces? We’re going to smoke them.” With a chuckle, he shook his head. “No contest.”
My phone buzzed.
“Fuck.” I scrambled to snatch my phone, fumbled it and held it to my face. It was Ezra.
“Jesus, Lucas. Settle down.” Evan tsked.
With a long breath, I opened the message. Evan was right. I needed to calm the fuck down.
Ezra
No, Tate called, but didn’t show up. I’m fine today and preparing for my photo shoots.
Rubbing my chin, I reread the message. What should I text back? I wanted to see him. How could I make it happen?
“What did he say?” Evan leaned close, scanning my phone. “Looks like he’s fine.”
“Yeah, but…” We still had to plan an exit strategy. I sighed. I was already in so deep.
“But what?” He peered at me. “Dude, what’s up with you?”
“He doesn’t have any friends, and he needs my help. If he tries to break up with his boyfriend, I want to be there, so he doesn’t get hurt.” My chest pinched. Did I sound crazy right now? It seemed perfectly normal last night.
“No friends?” He dipped his brows. “I can’t believe a guy like that has no friends.”
“He told me, fuck.” I huffed a breath, hung my head, and then straightened. “His boyfriend doesn’t like him hanging out with anyone, so he lost all his friends.” I stared at the phone. I’d start by seeing what he was doing later.
“Oh, that makes sense. That’s what abusive assholes do to their partners.” Evan ate another bite of his chicken and rice.
I texted.
Lucas
Are you free later?
The three dots flickered, taunting me, and then stopped. Fuck me. I set my phone down and ate my meal.
An hour later and I still hadn’t heard from Ezra. I paced the main room in front of the patio doors leading to our small balcony overlooking the pool area of the complex. Evan had gone down there to relax and show off his hockey bod. The guy loved trolling for women.
Should I text Ezra again? He’d read the message. But maybe he was busy with his shoot? I shouldn’t bother him. Fuck it. I’d call Mason.
Sliding my phone from my pocket, I stood in the sunshine streaming in through the sliding door and called my brother.
“Hey, bro,” Mason said. “How’s your game?”
My breath caught. No need to tell him the truth. “Fine.” I strolled to our dark leather couch and fell in. “I have questions about, uh, well, I spoke more with Ezra.”
“Who?”
“Ezra, the photographer I told you about with the shitty boyfriend?” I inhaled deeply. I had to keep my weird feelings out of this conversation.
“Oh, yeah,” he said. “What did you find out?”