Chapter 12
GUS
“Language,” Rita chided.
She bustled toward Rafe, plucking at his sleeves and asking him a ton of questions that didn’t register over the steady thump of blood in my ears.
I blinked, hoping it might rattle my brain ’cause I couldn’t stand here gaping at my roommate as if I were meeting a perfect stranger for the first time. But damn, it felt like it. The man who’d sailed into the room with his head held proudly was one badass motherfucker.
From the tilt of Rafe’s chin and the wicked gleam in his eyes to the innately graceful way he moved, dodging bolts of colorful fabric like a dancer taking his place on stage while a captivated audience applauded in appreciation and wonder.
My prickly roommate had morphed into a fairy king or a sorcerer—a man who knew he was special, powerful, and possibly had solutions to all my problems.
My heart thumped wildly, and my dick pulsed against my zipper. I’d already suspected I had a mild crush on the guy, and the kiss had cemented it. But as I stood there with powdered sugar-coated fingers gripping a tin of cookies like a lifeline, I realized I was in deeper than I’d thought.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Rafe preened, spinning in a half circle while Rita fussed with his seams.
“You should.” My voice was raspy and thick, but I could always blame it on the cookies if necessary. I lowered the tin to shield my crotch and shamelessly stared. “You look incredible.”
He did a double take, smiling shyly before giving his full attention to the diligent seamstress.
“This is not tight here, yes?” Rita plucked at his shoulders, his pecs, pointing out areas she’d mended. “The stitching is secure. Pretend you are on the ice and move your arms.”
“Like this.” Rafe lifted his arms, one to the front, one to the side, then above his head.
“Yes, that’s good,” she hummed, pulling him to face her again. “What about the trousers?”
He bent his knees, swung his right leg forward, backward, and repeated the motion on the left. “Great.”
“Turn. Repeat.”
He obeyed, giving me an up close and personal view of his perfect ass, flexing and contracting. My mouth went dry as the fucking desert and let me tell you, the powdered sugar didn’t help. I coughed and tried to avert my eyes, but no…the show was too good, and it was just getting started.
Rita checked the fit at his waist, hiking Rafe’s top and exposing his lean, toned abdomen.
His skin was smooth and unblemished, no tattoos, but of course my gaze locked on his happy trail and the prominent jut of his hip bones resulting in some serious V-lines.
That right there was my downfall. I was a sucker for the sweet dip of contoured ridges pointing south, a.k.a.
cum gutters. I swallowed hard, licking my fingers while giving myself a stern talking-to.
No perving, asshole. Rafe is your fucking roommate.
“Everything feels and looks amazing,” Rafe gushed, moving to the full-length mirror in the corner. “I was just wondering if it’s a little too snug in the crotch area.”
He splayed his hands over his junk and—
Oh. Fuck me. I couldn’t do this.
“I, um…” I coughed, pointed at the tin and sputtered some more. “Need coffee. I’ll grab a couple of lattes and extra cream and sugar and…”
I was out the door before I’d finished my sentence, wiping beads of sweat gathered at my temple as I sucked in a gulp of air.
The late March chill had the same effect as a bucket of cold water…
thank God. Sure, it had been a few weeks since I’d gotten laid—or at least, since I could remember getting laid—but c’mon, this was a rather extreme reaction to a fully clothed man getting manhandled by a professional seamstress.
No, it couldn’t be the clothes or the hint of skin and muscles and a tight ass. It was Rafe. The way he moved was…seductive. I had a sudden urge to see him perform. I wanted to see that transformation in action—all that power and grace and beauty on ice. That had to be something special.
I returned to Rita’s shop with a tray of drinks, hoping they’d wrapped up their meeting. I’d taken my sweet time and made sure I had my head on straight.
It was okay to be attracted to Rafe. He was a good-looking guy and a genuinely cool person.
He was exactly the friend I needed at the moment, and I wasn’t going to fuck it up by making something out of a hot kiss, a little friction, and a random peek at skin under a sequined top that looked like sex and salvation and—
Okay, so…my chill had slipped a bit, but no one noticed. Rafe had redressed in his jeans and sweater and was chatting with Rita about his invoice.
“You pay what you can now and the rest later. It’s no problem,” she was saying.
“I’ll have the full amount next week if you’re sure that’s all right.”
She shooed him away, her eyes flicking to me in the doorway. “Ah, see…your friend has paid with coffee and a nice appetite. Take the kolachki and go.”
Rafe hugged her, careful not to squish the plastic bag draped over his arm. “Thank you.”
I handed Rita her latte, thanked her for the cookies, and breathed a sigh of relief to be on the road again a few minutes later.
“The new Costco is in Haverton, just fifteen minutes away,” I pronounced, sliding into traffic.
“Oh…right. What do you want to buy other than corn dogs?”
“I dunno. Stuff.”
“Okay.” Rafe sighed happily as he stared out the window.
“What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing much. I’m just…in love with that costume. It’s sublime.” He twisted in his seat to face me. “I’ve had it for a few years, but it’s been slowly coming undone. I was lucky to find someone like Rita to save it from a mothball death. At a reasonable price, too.”
“I don’t get it. Doesn’t your team pay for your costumes?”
“Some amount, yes. Not all. This one is special, though. If the stars align, I’ll wear it for the Collegiate Championships tryouts. It’s a good luck charm, and I need it. I haven’t performed to a larger audience in a while,” he said wistfully.
“Your knee.”
“Ankle.”
I squinted at the glare from the Jeep sliding into my lane. “You sprained it, right?”
“No, I tore a ligament.”
“Ouch. How’d you do it?”
“Truthfully, I don’t remember. It happened at practice when I was going over some new choreography with one of our coaches.
I was in my zone, in tune with the music and my own energy.
It was relatively simple—a triple Lutz, land, toe loop, land, but that second landing didn’t go according to plan.
My skate caught a divot in the ice or something.
I wasn’t expecting it, obviously. I couldn’t counter my balance or even fall to avoid impact.
Everyone assumed it was a sprain at first, but the ligament damage was severe, which was why it took so long to heal. ”
I stopped at a red light. “And now it’s good as new?”
“Mostly, yes. I carried my weight on a new team this year, and that felt like a mini miracle. I have to build on it. Next step, qualify for the championships and after that, assuming I do well, I’ll hopefully join a club with excellent coaching.
Of course, I’ll need sponsorship and…” Rafe broke off with a laugh.
“Oh, wow. Snoozeville. Sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself.
I guess I’m a little excited, but my God, that costume is just dreamy!
I can float on air, spin like a leaf in the wind, or… I could the last time I wore it.”
“Ah, so it’s a superstitious thing.”
“A little. I could use some good luck. I’ve been struggling a bit lately. My landings are wobbly and I’m not getting off the ice smoothly. So…yeah, I’ll take any bit of extra help.”
“I know all about that. I wear blue socks and only blue socks on game days. Black socks are for practice and white socks for gym workouts or free skating.” I felt his gaze on me in my periphery.
“What? It’s not that weird. Pritchard eats a peanut butter sandwich on white bread one hour before every game.
It’s got to be this certain kind of chunky PB, no jelly, no honey.
He basically eats cardboard with nuts and chokes it down with a little water.
Not too much ’cause he thinks leaving the ice is bad luck, and he doesn’t want to pee his pants. ”
Rafe barked a laugh. “Really?”
“Yeah. Everyone has something. Brady has a particular way of wrapping tape on his stick. It’s very involved, and it takes him for-fucking-ever. Ty puts his headphones in to get in his groove.”
“And what do you do…besides the blue socks?”
“Nothing else. My job is to pump everyone up. Make sure the guys know our school and the whole damn town are rooting for us. Win or lose, each and every single one of them is a game changer. Sometimes I overdo it, but you get more from people if they feel appreciated, ya know? I s’pose that makes me the head cheerleader. ”
I snorted in amusement at the idea as I veered onto the interstate.
Rafe was quiet for a long moment. “Who tells you that you’re doing a good job?”
I furrowed my brow. “I dunno. My teammates do, I guess. We’re like brothers, and we’re supportive of each other.”
“That’s good. It’s—well, I was at a recent game, and I noticed you were on the bench at the end of the period.
You seemed a bit subdued…for you, anyway,” he added in a wry tone.
“But you were quick to jump up and pat your teammates on the back, offer advice, and support them. I didn’t see anyone else do that.
Just you. I get the feeling you’re the adhesive binding everyone together.
Who’s going to do that when you’re not there? ”
“First of all, I think that was a real compliment. I didn’t think I’d ever get one of those from you. Geez, that’s kinda fuckin’ sweet.” I puffed up my chest and grinned, then risked a brief glance Rafe’s way, hoping to catch his eye roll. Yep, there it was.
“I’ve complimented you before. I told you I like your hair color.”
“That didn’t count.”
“Yes, it does.”
“Nope. I don’t accept it. Give me another one,” I challenged.
“Now you’re just being greedy,” he replied, infusing maximum primness into his speech. “And I see what you’re doing. You’re deflecting. You didn’t like my observation, so you turned it into a joke.”
True.
“What do you want me to say? I’m captain. It’s my job to pump everyone up. I don’t need everyone telling me how awesome I am. If we’re keeping things real, I haven’t been playing so great lately anyway.”
And now you can shut up, Langley.
“Why do you say that?”
“ ’Cause it’s a fact. My passes aren’t connecting, I’m not as sharp as I should be, and I’m slower than usual. Sometimes I feel like I’m skating through molasses, and I’m not sure what I’m doing wrong.” I shrugged nonchalantly. “Other days…I’m fine.”
“I can help.”
“What? How?” I snorted.
“I’m an excellent skater, and I’m fast. Really, really fast.” Rafe sat taller in his seat and flattened his hand on the console between us. “We can do drills together. We could start tonight. I’ll check the rink schedule and see if we can—”
“Yo, hold up there, speedy. I’m fine. We’re down to our last games and—”
“And that’s why you need me,” he intercepted. “Think of it as an outside consultation or a friendly field trip to the rink with your roommate. Or…my contribution to the roommate game.”
“Oh. Very slick,” I drawled.
He chuckled. “Maybe it won’t make a difference, but it can’t hurt to try something new. And on the off chance it helps, it’s the least I can do to pay you back for buying extra groceries and insisting I eat them so they don’t go bad.”
“Do I do that?” I took the Haverton exit and followed my GPS directions to the new Costco on Filmore Street.
“You do and…brace yourself, because I’m about to give you a real compliment.”
The lot was full, so I parked in the first open spot. We’d have to hike to the entrance, but it was a nice spring day and the company was pleasant.
“A second real compliment? Hang on a sec. I gotta be ready for this.” I turned off the engine, unfastened my seat belt, and gestured animatedly. “Okay, hit me.”
My comedy routine earned me another eye roll, but Rafe’s grin was pure sunshine.
“Here goes…you’re extremely generous and you’re a good person, Gus. A little irritating at times, and yet lately, very thoughtful. I don’t know what’s inspired your recent roommate chivalry, but it’s much appreciated.”
I froze at the sincerity, feeling oddly exposed for a beat. “Uh…thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Now it’s your turn.”
“I, uh…I’m supposed to give you a compliment now?”
Rafe pursed his lips in amusement. “Yep. Do your worst.”
This was my cue to say something goofy and hustle us into the store before they sold out of corn dogs. It was all on the tip of my tongue, but butterflies had started churning in my stomach now, and he was aglow with sparkling eyes and a winning smile.
Damn it, confidence looked good on him. I felt dizzy under the weight of his expectant stare. And dazzled.
“You’re really fucking hot in that costume. Like…luminescent or something.”
“Luminescent?”
Oh, fuck. Dial it down, man.
Not possible. My mouth was running again.
“Everything about you just twinkled like stardust and—sorry, I’m being weird. I just…I don’t know if I’m in a sober spiral or if it was that kiss or—”
“You think I’m…hot?” he interrupted, scrunching his nose as if skeptically testing the integrity of that three-letter word.
I nodded like a puppet on a string. “Yeah. Very…very hot. And very—”
Rafe lunged across the console and crashed our mouths together. I didn’t overthink it. My dick was so on board with whatever was happening, it wasn’t even funny. Desire zinged throughout my system in a heady rush, urging me to take what was offered.
I put my hand on Rafe’s nape, cradling his head as I tilted my chin and pushed inside. He moaned at the contact and in a flash, he was practically on top of me, ravaging me, stoking a fire with every twist of his talented tongue.
We made out like a couple of rabid horny teens until the windows fogged and the air was muggy with lust and a heavy cloud of pheromones.
Rafe gasped as he flopped into the passenger seat, a hand covering his bee-stung lips. “We’re good at that.”
“Yeah.” My voice was gravelly and hoarse, and my head was spinning. “Wanna get out of here?”
“God, yes.”