Twenty-Six #2
“Yeah. His name is Toby Eads. Do you know him?”
“Personally, no. I know of him. He tags me often.”
“I like him because his posts are visual and they also tend to explain what he’s talking about more than other hockey guys. I feel like maybe I’m learning some things. Though I wish he’d just focus on you so I can catch up on your career.”
Fuck, this man! He’s so fucking sweet.
“I’ll tell you what you need to know. “This is my eighth season. Third with the Lights. My third team of my career. My personal stats are pretty good. I’m not exactly breaking records, but I’m not deep within the pack, either. I play?—”
“I know this!” Zak says, cutting me off. “You play as a wingman.”
The stupid smile that fills my face nearly hurts my cheeks. “I do. Do you know what side?”
“Yes, I do,” he says proudly. “Right!”
“How about this, what’s my number?”
Zak laughs. “It’s on all your hoodies, Owen. You’re number 31.”
I flash him a wide smile. Maybe he can feel my pride radiating off me because he flushes and ducks his head. “I am. Come here so I can kiss you. I can’t leave this.”
He slips from his chair and enters the kitchen. As soon as he’s within reach, I press him against the counter next to the stove and kiss him silly until I have to breathe or risk drowning in him. Of course, I kind of want to take my chances and drown.
“Help me dish this,” I tell him.
Zak nods and slides away from me. I watch him, paying less attention to my glaze than I should be, but fuck, I can’t help it. He’s just… breathtaking. And his knees are wobbly. That’s sexy as fuck, knowing that I did that to him.
We eat quietly, our legs tangled together, sitting so close that it’s a wonder we’re not making a mess since it’s kind of awkward to eat in this position.
After dinner, we clean the kitchen together.
Then Zak heads for the shower. I wait until he’s under the water before telling him I need to run to Menlo’s condo for a minute, promising I’ll be right back.
I text him on the way up to make sure everything is ready. They’re still there, setting the covers over the trays. Linden spots me first, beaming the biggest smile at me.
“It looks so good,” Linden says. “I’m jealous. No one does this stuff for me.”
Menlo’s gaze slides to him with a brow raised. “You don’t have a girlfriend, dude. Who’s going to do this for you?”
Linden sighs. “I don’t know.” There’s a pout in his tone again.
Menlo, shaking his head, turns his attention back to me. “This what you had in mind?”
“Definitely. I appreciate your help.” It’s perfect.
They’ve moved one of the long couches close to the fireplace and then stuck a heat lamp at the other end to fight the chilly April air.
It’s getting warmer, but we’re also well above the ground, so it’s still cold.
There’s a long, low table parallel to the couch with a variety of trays now covered to keep the scavenger birds away.
Lots of different desserts. And then there are blankets because my man loves to snuggle in blankets.
Menlo clubs my shoulder. “You bringing him up now?”
I nod. “Yep. I owe you.”
“Yes, you do,” Linden says. “When I get a girlfriend, I want you to do this for me.”
Menlo chuckles. Taking Linden by the elbow, he drags him inside. “When we get back to the apartment, I’ll tell you why that’s not how this works.”
“You said I needed a girlfriend to do this.”
I hop in the elevator with them and listen to their chatter. Linden is too damn cute. I’m not sure if he needs a super soft, sweet girl to love him or someone more like Menlo, strong and stable and able to guide him.
Zak is on the couch when I get back. His shoulders relax as soon as he sees me. I get all sappy and warm when I find him in my sweats. “Come here, sunshine. I want to show you something.”
His brows knit together as he crosses the room. He’s in hard-sole slippers, so I don’t bother to make him get his shoes on. Lacing his fingers with mine, I pull him into the hall and lock the door behind us. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
He frowns at the elevator when I press the up button. “I’m not dressed for your friends,” he says, looking down self-consciously.
“You’re dressed perfectly. I don’t think you fully grasp how sexy it is for me to see you in my clothes.”
His cheeks turn bright red and he presses his face into the side of my shoulder.
He’s still hiding his pretty flush when we step into the elevator.
I keep him like this by telling him just how sexy his blush is while I push the button to the roof.
Maybe I can keep that a secret until we’re there if I keep him hiding.
It’s not like I’m lying. “I love to lick you when you’re flushed,” I tell him, massaging the pads of my fingers into the back of his scalp. “Your cheeks get so hot, but the rest of your body just shivers. Tasting you like that is dessert.”
“Owen,” he complains, voice breathless.
No, he’s right. I didn’t mean for this to turn sexy. My intent was to give him a sweet night. I want Zak to have something really happy to think about when I’m away for several days.
The door pings and I pull him out before he can look at the number on the screen. It’s not like he won’t recognize the space we spill into. I love to watch the way his brows knit together in confusion when he looks around. It’s dark with only a few safety lights illuminating the area.
Otherwise, it’s the city lights from outside the fishbowl windows that light the area up. Zak doesn’t see the fireplace on until I’m pushing out the door. Then his eyes snap right to it, widen, and he looks at me with surprise.
I smile, guiding him to the cozy corner I had help creating for him. The night air is getting cooler, but once we step into the perimeter of the fireplace and heat lamp, it’s toasty.
“What is this? How did you do this?” Zak asks when I push him onto the couch and take a seat next to him. I lift a tray to show him the chocolate-covered strawberries. Bringing one to his mouth, his eyes sparkle with the reflection of the fireplace.
“I had help,” I tell him. “This is a date. A private date because I don’t want to share your presence at all tonight.”
He chews his bite of strawberry as he leans into me. Pulling the blanket around both of us, I snuggle us in tightly to keep out the chill. “This is just for you, Zak.”
Zak doesn’t speak. I’m not sure he knows what to say. That’s okay. I feed him for a while longer and then we lay on the couch and watch the stars as best we can through the light pollution of the city. It’s one of the best nights ever.