Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
COLBY
“Stay still,” Tyler chuckles and shifts to use more of his weight to press me further into the bed. He’s straddling my hips, pinning me down with one hand on my chest to prevent me from squirming out of his hold as he applies the ice pack to my ribs with his other hand.
“It’s cold,” I argue, trying to twist away from him.
He snorts a quiet laugh. “It’s an ice pack, Colby. It’s not going to be all warm and cozy like snuggling in front of a log fire on a snowy day.”
I grunt and try to relax as much as I can with a towel-covered ice pack being pressed against my bare skin. Getting bruised up during a game isn’t anything new. It’s all part of the game, but it sucks I’m going to be nursing one hell of a bruise as we head into the final.
Luckily, we had a fairly easy day today, so it’s given me some time to rest.
It started with a light skate this morning, followed by a workout, and then we spent a few hours watching tape after lunch. Now we’ve got some downtime before we need to head down for dinner.
I’ve already seen my parents and sister but managed to sneak off to join Tyler in our room, claiming I needed a nap. In reality, I wanted to make the most of having my own private nurse to aid me back to strength, except he’s being far too serious for my liking and wearing far too much clothing.
I reach out to grab the hem of Tyler’s T-shirt and push it up to his chin so I can see his chest and abs.
He’s so fucking hot. All broad shoulders and trim waist. He isn’t ripped with muscles cut from marble, but he is muscular in the strong sense. The curve of his pecs has me licking my lips, and the lines of his V point down to a cock I’m hungry to taste again.
A groan gets stuck in my throat. How am I starving for him when I only had him this morning?
“What are you doing?” he asks with a small smile.
“You’re being too serious.” I raise my other hand to give his nipple a flick.
His nostrils flare, and then he lets out a long exhale and adjusts the ice pack. “I just don’t like seeing you hurt.”
There’s a pull in my chest at the honesty in his words.
“I’m fine,” I say reassuringly. “It could have been worse.”
“I know, and that’s what’s pissing me off. What if this happens when I’m not around to take care of you?”
My gaze drifts back to his, and the concern swimming in his brown eyes has me swallowing thickly.
Injuries at the college level are common, but stepping up into the NHL means I’m going to be on the ice with players a lot bigger than me. Stronger. Hard hitters. Plus, fighting is banned at collegiate level, but it’s fair game once you reach the pros.
I’ve never once dropped the gloves, and I’m not gonna lie, the thought of it has my stomach clenching.
“I’ll be okay,” I whisper, hating how my voice catches on the last word.
He hums, clearly not believing me for a second.
Not wanting to think about it anymore, I drop my hand from his nipple to tug on the waistband of his sweatpants.
A choked noise gets trapped in my throat when I notice he isn’t wearing any underwear.
The heat that flares in my groin must be evident in my face, too, because he snickers under his breath.
“You’re relentless, you know that?”
“Didn’t hear you complaining when I blew you in the shower this morning,” I point out with a smirk.
“I’ve created a monster,” he teases with a wry grin, then takes the hem of his T-shirt from me and tucks it under his chin. I waste no time wrapping my fingers around his length and stroking him. He thickens in my palm, and my mouth waters.
“Sit on my chest and feed me your cock,” I beg.
He quirks his brow and smirks. “You’re becoming quite the pillow princess.”
I release his cock to reach up and wrap his hair around my fist. I give him a gentle tug to bring his face closer to mine.
“There’s something about you being on top of me that makes me crazy hard.” I thrust my hips up, pressing my erection against his ass, then drop my voice to a needy, desperate whimper and pout. “I’m injured, Ty. Don’t deprive an injured guy.”
“We’ve gotta go down for dinner soon,” he says with zero argument in his voice, already rising onto his knees and shoving his sweatpants down.
“Then you better hurry up and give me your dick already.” I give his bare ass a playful slap.
Tyler quickly removes his sweatpants and tosses them onto his bed, then pulls his T-shirt over his head.
Still holding on to the ice pack against my ribs, he walks up the bed on his knees, then uses his calf to keep it in place.
His eyes turn hooded as he grips his cock at the base and taps the swollen head on my lips.
“Open up,” he murmurs.
Keeping my eyes fixed on his, I part my lips, and he slips his cock into my mouth. I moan the second his salty taste hits my tongue.
He holds on to the headboard, thrusting his cock into my mouth until it hits the back of my throat.
I gag, eyes filling with tears because I still haven’t mastered the art of deep-throating yet, but I don’t loosen my grip on his hips, urging him to keep up this pace that drives him crazy.
The tendons in his neck are taut as he tips his head back, baring his teeth as he tries to not make a noise.
My own cock is aching, desperate to be touched inside my boxer briefs.
“Fuckkk,” he moans, the sound coming out quiet and strangled as he spills down my throat, and I swallow every drop.
Tyler gasps as he slips his cock from my lips and slumps down beside me, resting his head on my chest. His own heaves with his labored breaths, fanning across my heated skin in rapid bursts. There’s no doubt he can hear how fast my heart is beating.
Sinking my fingers into his hair, I close my eyes and bank this moment to memory. The taste of him on my tongue. The feel of him in my arms. The smell of his shampoo and cologne.
Would it be weird if I bought them just so I could smell him whenever I wanted?
My cock is still hard as granite, and I reach down to give it a squeeze through my underwear. We probably haven’t got time for another round before we need to head down for dinner.
But before I can tell Tyler we need to clean up, he bends down and tugs my briefs down my thighs. He engulfs my cock into the wet heat of his mouth, and I bring my fist to my mouth, biting down on it as my eyes roll to the back of my head.
My balls are tight and aching. Heat bubbles like a volcano about to erupt at the base of my spine.
Tyler’s eyes meet mine as he circles his tongue around my cockhead and wraps those sinful lips around it. He gives me a hard suck before taking me in deep and swallowing around me.
My fingers card through his hair, brushing it away from his face to give me an unrestricted view of him bobbing his head on my dick.
Toes curling, thighs trembling, I’m unable to hold back my release any longer.
With a choked noise, I unravel beneath him. The metallic taste of blood hits my tongue from biting so hard on my fist that I broke the skin.
Once Tyler has cleaned me up with his tongue, he releases me with a wet pop and a satisfied sigh.
“I stand by what I said,” he murmurs, resting his head against my thigh.
“What was that?”
“I’ve created a monster in you.”
I snicker, using the back of my hand to push my hair off my face. “What can I say? I love having sex with you.”
The second the words leave my mouth, my entire body stiffens.
I love having sex with you.
Fuck.
My eyes shoot open, and I glance down at Tyler where he’s still lying between my legs, but his eyes are closed, and there’s a soft smile on his face.
Maybe he didn’t catch my slipup and how easily that four-letter word fell from my lips.
Because it’s true, and it’s not just the sex I love.
The one rule I told myself was to not let my crush grow into something more.
It’s safe to say I’ve failed that with flying colors, because I’m pretty sure I’m falling in love with Tyler Beckmann.
Tyler is unusually quiet when we get back to the room after dinner.
He takes off his shirt and pants without saying a word, then flops onto the bed and turns on the TV.
There’s a New York versus Vancouver Steelheads game on, but instead of teasing me over being a fan of Beau Rousseau, he just stares aimlessly at it, almost lost in thought.
Engaging the dead bolt on the door, I switch off the lights and strip down to my boxer briefs and climb onto the bed next to him.
Wrapping my arms around him, I rest my head on his chest, and we lie there in complete silence. His hand travels up into my hair, his fingers combing through the strands like muscle memory.
There’s a heaviness in my chest, an unsettling feeling I’m unable to ignore for much longer.
I angle my head to look up at him and keep my voice quiet when I ask, “What’s on your mind?”
Tyler chews on the inside of his mouth, eyes unblinking where they’re fixed on the TV.
“I think I’m just having a kinda ‘oh shit’ moment,” he sighs, tightening his arm around my shoulders.
“For the last four years, this team has been everything to me, and after tomorrow night, that’s it.
That’s my hockey career over, and I’m just feeling a bit…
” His words trail off, and I’m having a weird sense of déjà vu from when we were sitting on the steps in front of the frat house, only this time, it isn’t me who’s all up in my head.
“Sentimental? Sad?” I suggest.