Chapter Five
The drive to Nate’s condo lasted all of ten minutes considering it was a few minutes past five a.m. at this point.
The streets were mostly empty, and the sky had lightened a shade or two from the deep navy of the wee small hours.
He dropped Wesley off next to the elevator door, parked in his slot, and jogged back to his guest. Wesley limped into the elevator and leaned wearily against the stainless-steel wall.
Fatigue pulled at Nate’s eyelids. They exited on the twelfth floor and Nate followed as Wesley made his way slowly down the corridor in the direction he’d indicated.
Once in the condo, Wesley shuffled past the main living space—kitchen, dining area, living room—to the bank of windows.
“Wow. Great view.”
Lights glittered across the northern part of the city.
Headlights and taillights moved like the dot-eating monsters in the old Pac-Man game through the maze of streets and the freeway beyond, but the side streets were generally empty.
Streetlights stood sentry in otherwise dark neighborhoods, their glow filtering through leafy trees.
“It is,” Nate agreed. The view was the only thing about the condo he liked, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.
The Locomotives had made the arrangements for him—a couple of his teammates apparently lived in the building and had recommended it.
It’s not that he didn’t appreciate having someplace to lay his head, he did.
It was better than living in a hotel with his stuff in storage.
Been there, done that. But this place fit him about as well as an outgrown pair of skates.
He really needed to make time to find a new place before training camp got underway.
Problem was, he didn’t know anything about Omaha.
Which meant more time and effort to research.
He had no idea what he was looking for. He’d know it when he saw it, right?
And that’s what real estate agents were for, weren’t they?
Almost shoulder to shoulder, they stared into the early morning world, and for the first time in a long time, the chasm of loneliness that normally lived in his chest didn’t seem quite so wide.
Don’t get used to it.
Barring any serious medical setbacks, Wesley would be returning to his life in a day or so, and Nate would be alone again.
Maybe he ought to get a roommate. Take on a rookie.
The Locomotives had one, didn’t they? Nate swiped a hand down his face, whiskers prickling his palm.
Jesus, he really needed to study the composition of his new team.
The silence was broken when Wesley’s jaw cracked with a huge yawn followed by a moan. “Oh, God, my whole head hurtths.” His voice was rough, a bit frayed at the edges, like speaking took effort. His shoulders sagged and he listed toward Nate.
Nate bumped his shoulder gently. “Yep, it will for a while. Come on. Spare room’s this way,” said Nate, leading the way.
He flipped on the overhead light and moved a pile of folded towels from the bed to the old wooden desk. He pulled down the covers and waved toward the door. “Bathroom’s across the hall.”
Large hands and elegant fingers twisted at Wesley’s mid-section where the two bottom corners of his ruined blouse had been tied closed.
Hands and fingers that had touched Nate, had already coaxed pleasure and powerful orgasms. Desire stirred deep within, but he clenched his abs to stay any outward evidence of arousal.
The guy had been through enough. He didn’t need Nate lusting after him. Nate dragged his gaze to Wesley’s face.
Wesley remained in the doorway, a grimace on his face, top teeth digging into his plush bottom lip.
“What’s the matter?”
“Your sheetth. I’m filthy and bloody. Maybe I could shower?”
The sheets were clean and crisp and white. Not that Nate cared about the sheets and couldn’t afford new ones should these get ruined.
“Up to you. You’ll probably sleep better.”
Wesley nodded. “Yeah. I’d like to. If you don’t mind.”
“Not at all. I can loan you something to wear.”
Wesley’s lips tightened for a moment, and he lowered his gaze to the soft carpet, a mix of muted, earthy hues. “You’ve done so much already, but I’d really appreciate it.”
“Yeah, let me go grab something.”
With a nod, Wesley shuffled into the small interior bathroom, and Nate headed for his bedroom.
He rooted around in his dresser and dug up a faded blue tee from his college team and some basketball shorts with a drawstring.
The capital K and golden eagle logo on the tee shirt were patchy from so many washings, but it was the best he could do, considering that Wesley was at least six inches shorter and a good forty pounds lighter than Nate and nowhere near as bulky.
The rumble of water gushing against the tub bottom grew louder the closer Nate got to the hallway bath. He came to a halt in the doorway.
Wesley’s back was long and smooth. His build trim.
Hips and waist narrow. Nate had been in scene mode and more focused on himself the two times he’d been with Wesley.
He hadn’t fully cataloged Wesley’s physique.
Wesley didn’t seem to have an ounce of extra flesh.
Nate hadn’t thought he had a preference or a type, but everything about Wesley—except the excessive skinniness he now noted—appealed to Nate.
He looked at the clothes in his hands, and an image of the blouse Wesley had been wearing in the hospital came to mind.
He certainly didn’t care what Wesley wore.
Him being his true self was sexy. Wesley was sexy.
Not the time, Hennessey. Wesley is a guest and recovering from a concussion. He doesn’t need you lusting after him.
Nate tapped a fingernail on the doorway announcing his presence. “Hey, listen...”
Wesley peered at Nate over one shoulder, eyes squinting, not only from the swelling of his face but from the harsh glare of the overhead light.
Nate couldn’t even tell what color Wesley’s eyes were.
Couldn’t remember, despite the time spent with gazes locked while they fucked.
He wanted to say blue, but that didn’t sound right. Brown didn’t either.
“Thothe for me?” Wesley asked.
Nate glanced at the clothes in his hand and remembered what he’d been about to say.
“Um...yeah.” He set them on the vanity. “You might want to take as cold a shower as you can stand. I have a bit of experience in this area, playing hockey. The cold will reduce blood flow which keeps the inflammation down which helps the pain some.” Nate reached around the door frame and popped open the medicine cabinet. “Pick a pain reliever—take four.”
“Four?” One of Wesley’s eyebrows arched slightly, and a wince followed.
“Yeah. Trust me.”
Wesley nodded, the ghost of a smile pulling at his mouth. “Okay.”
“I’ll get you some water.”
Nate returned with a bottle of water and froze in his tracks yet again.
Wesley had shed the pale blue skinny jeans.
Instead of the tighty whities he’d worn at the club—Nate remembered those—a pair of lavender bikini briefs now hugged Wesley’s hips and shapely ass.
Holy shit. His dick twitched again, and he swallowed.
He didn’t usually react this strongly to someone.
Of course, he didn’t usually interact with a lot of men with the same sexual bent. “Um...here’s…water.”
“Thankth.”
“Yeah. Sure.”
During the season, Nate was surrounded by naked men in the dressing room on an almost daily basis, so it wasn’t as if bare flesh alone got him all hot and bothered. So why did Wesley’s unclothed body affect him so much? “Need anything else?”
“No one’th taken care of me in a very long time.” Wesley looked at him through the bruised and battered flesh surrounding both eyes. “Thank you. For everything. I’m not thure what I would have done if I hadn’t ended up in your car.”
“You’re welcome.”
The silence stretched just this side of too long. Nate finally nodded for lack of anything else to say. “I’ll, uh, leave you to your shower. And I’ll set an alarm for—” Nate glanced at his watch. “—ten-thirty to wake you up.”
Wesley nodded as well.
Nate pulled the door shut. Back in his own room, he stripped and, after setting the alarm as promised, face-planted into his big empty bed.
Sleep was a long time coming. How he was supposed to sleep with Ashton—no, Wesley—in the next room and the memories of every pleasurable thing they’d done on repeat in his brain?