Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
DONOVAN
My equipment bag bangs against my shins as I shuffle along the carpeted hallway, heading for my apartment door.
It’s three in the morning, and my late-night flight out of Orlando landed back in Boston about an hour ago, so my goal is to be as quiet as I possibly can.
The hallway outside my door is silent as I gently put down the heavy bag containing all the equipment I took with me to Florida, plus the heavy backpack of clothing and toiletries I packed before I left.
If I’d known the call up would only last a single game, I wouldn’t have packed so much stuff.
My agent didn’t give me much of a clue when he called, except to say that Tobin, the starting goalie for the Boston Copperheads, was awaiting clearance to play after tweaking his knee in the previous game and they were calling me up to join the team on the road.
Not Gilly.
Me.
That piece of information alone nearly did my head in.
Forget the idea that I was suited up wearing a Copperheads jersey and practicing on the ice with the rest of them the moment I arrived.
Wild. Even wilder? Being given the nod to take the crease for the third period after Leonard let four slip past him in the second.
Little eleven-year-old Donovan, who had nearly quit playing, could never have imagined that this would someday be where he ended up.
A piece of me is disappointed that my NHL debut lasted less than one game, but the much larger part of me is stoked that I got the chance to play at all.
Stepping onto that ice felt so… big. Like the culmination of all I’ve worked for and a reminder that it isn’t permanent yet.
I was a passing visitor in the locker room, but someday, if I’m lucky, I’ll be playing at that level for the rest of my career.
But that’s something I’ll think about more when I’m awake.
Right now I’m exhausted from the travel, and as I open the door to my apartment I yawn into the silence.
The light in the entryway is on, so I don’t enter into complete darkness, but the apartment feels still and quiet, which makes sense given the time.
I pull my heavy bags in behind me, leaving them on the entryway carpet as I shut the door, strip out of my heavy winter jacket, and hang it on the hook.
I kick off my shoes next, yawning again as I crouch to dig into my backpack for my pajama pants.
I’ll put the rest of my stuff away later, but right now there’s a dim light from the hallway beckoning to me.
In any other situation, that would give me pause, but I know who’s in there.
Shiloh.
My heart flutters a little bit as I think of him sleeping in my bed, waiting for me to come back home.
I won’t ever admit that out loud to anyone, but I like knowing he’s here.
I root around in my backpack for a few moments before the sound of bare feet padding across the hardwood catches my attention.
I glance up as Shiloh moves from the hallway, coming to stand in front of me.
He looks a bit sleep rumpled, his hair a tangled snarl on the top of his head and his eyes heavy, the lids blinking open slowly the longer he looks at me.
“Hey,” I murmur, rising to my feet and reaching a hand out to him.
He moves towards me with steps that feel slightly hesitant, but soon enough his hand is in my own and his slight body is pressed against mine.
I hold him tight as he shivers in the cold I’ve brought inside clinging to my clothing.
The T-shirt and sweatpants he’s wearing are very familiar to me, but not warm by any means.
“Stole my clothing again,” I comment as I run my hand down his back.
He shrugs, or at least I think he does. A movement happens anyway, but he doesn’t leave my arms or offer a comment back on this act of thievery.
Instead, he turns his head up to mine, his lips plump and tongue flicking out across the lower one.
Shiloh stares at my eyes for a moment, a question written into his own that I don’t know how to read, but the minute he surges upward to plant his mouth on mine, every word flies out of my head and is replaced by the taste of him.
This is bold for him, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t send a small thrill rippling down my spine.
He’s on his tiptoes as he kisses me, his hands moving to hold my face tight, like holding on to my skin is the only thing keeping him upright.
Shiloh holds me there for a moment until his reach up to me falters, his lips slipping away from mine for a split second.
Without thinking twice, I crouch and grab his thighs, hauling him up against me as I plant my lips on his again.
His legs wrap around my waist and his arms loop around my neck as I hold him against me, his mouth moving on mine.
Finally, he breaks the kiss for good, but I’m not ready to let him go.
Instead, I lean my forehead against his, panting and breathless against his body.
“Hi,” I whisper.
“Hey,” he replies.
We breathe into the space between us for a moment before his need for my lips rises and he again captures my mouth with his own, his one hand moving to grip the back of my hair tight in his fist. I let loose a small whimper, and he presses against me hard enough that I can feel his cock rubbing against my stomach.
“Shiloh,” I murmur as he breaks the kiss, his lips skating down my cheek as he kisses my jawbone, then nips at it with teeth that feel almost too sharp.
“Bedroom.” It’s a whispered demand, accented with a sweet sting as he places his lips by my ear, grabbing my earlobe in his teeth and biting down enough that a small shock of pain rattles through me.
I’m not about to second-guess him, and I abandon everything else behind me as I carry him to the bedroom and place him on the bed.
His cheeks are reddened as I step away to pull off my shirt, raising an eyebrow at him as I reach for the button on my jeans.
He nods, pursing his lips like he’s weighing and measuring everything I’m doing in this moment.
Like there’s a gravity to my actions and what they mean for what’s to come tonight.
I undo the button and unzip my tight jeans, stepping out of them and leaving them behind as I move toward where he sits on the bed.
I crouch to cradle his head in my hand as he grabs at my chest, pressing his palms against my pecs.
His eyes meet mine, and I can see the heat inside them as I lean in and capture him again in a kiss that feels like it’s too much and not enough at the same time.
His hands skate down my chest until they land on the band of my boxer briefs.
My cock twitches inside them, eager and ready for his touch.
Eager and ready for him in any way he wants me.
I let him pull them off me, kicking them away as his hand lands on my cock. He gives me a stroke, then another as I moan at the touch of his skin against my own, but he’s wearing far too many clothes for my liking, so I pull away from him.
“What’s wrong?” he asks as he tilts his beautiful face up toward mine.
“Nothing,” I reply, quickly, so he believes me. I reach for the shirt he’s wearing so he understands even more that there’s nothing wrong here. That he’s not wrong, and that I want him in this moment as much as he’d like to have me.
He raises his arms and lets me strip the shirt off him, revealing his tattooed skin again.
I’m captured once more by the colors, the swirls of blacks and reds, the patterns and shapes carved into his pale flesh with needlework so fine I can’t imagine a human being did it.
I lean forward and give him a quick kiss before reaching for the band of the sweatpants he wears.
I slip my hand inside and skirt my finger along the ridges in his skin the band left behind.
Clearly he’s tied them pretty tight so they won’t fall off his small frame.
His hand reaches for the lace holding them tightly to him, and he makes quicker work than I could have of untying the loops he made to hold them on.
With another quick movement, he pushes them down and away from his body, letting me grab the legs and toss them behind me.
“You’re so beautiful,” I breathe as I scan his entire gorgeous body, my eyes catching on the butterfly that sits low on his pelvis.
He makes a small noise that sounds like it could be a bit of a scoff, but I refuse to let him believe he is anything but the most gorgeous creature I’ve ever seen.
With a grin, I lean forward and gently press him back onto the bed until he’s propped up on his elbows.
His hard cock juts upward, beckoning to me, and I drop to my knees, taking the head of it in my mouth.
He lets loose a far more acceptable sound as I wrap my lips tightly around him, pulling his length into my mouth then trailing my tongue across the bottom of his shaft.
He jolts a bit as I pull off slightly, letting him slip from between my wet lips, only to pull him back down deep into my mouth.
“Fuck,” he moans softly, the word sounding like a chorus of success in my head.
I continue sucking him slowly, taking joy in every little noise that escapes his mouth and every twitch his cock makes against my tongue.
Reaching up, I cradle his balls in my hand, massaging gently because I fucking love it when it’s done to me and I want him to feel all the pleasure I can possibly give him.
He clearly approves, opening his legs and letting me draw myself even closer to him.
I look up at him as I pull off his cock and see that his eyes are blown wide with need, cheeks pink and mouth caught open with breaths that fall fast from his lungs.