Felix tossed his phone aside. “I know. But it’s tiring. And this”—he gestured between them—”makes it easier.”
“Good.” Their gazes caught and Jonah felt compelled to say something. To reassure Felix that he felt that same relief, maybe.
But there was a quick rap on the door. “Room service!”
So Jonah turned away to answer it instead.
When the hotel employee wheeled in a cart, Felix deftly slipped him a tip, producing money from God knew where.
He was always so smooth about it. His family was like that, smooth and polished and undeniably upper crust in a way that Jonah and his grandparents had never been.
The Hale family was no more well off than Jonah’s grandparents were, but it was older money. Well established. They ran in certain circles that his grandparents had never been invited to join, despite the success of their businesses.
They were well-liked and well-regarded around Toronto. But whether it was because Grandma Ji-min and Grandpa Cho had immigrated from Korea, because architecture and landscape design were still considered more blue-collar work than real estate investment, or because of some combination of those things, they’d never quite made the cut.
Jonah didn’t care. He spent more than enough time with the well-to-do of Toronto society as a hockey player. The team obligations were more than frequent enough for Jonah to know that he was perfectly happy with room service in his pajamas instead of canapes in a tuxedo.
Although on the occasions Jonah saw Felix in a tuxedo, that more than made it worth it.
“Are you going to come eat or just stare at the food all night?” Felix asked, sounding amused as he dunked a thick-cut fry into the bearnaise sauce.
Jonah smiled and stepped forward, taking a careful seat beside the plates Felix had spread out across the bed.
He dipped his own fry, enjoying the rich, creamy, herby mustard sauce before he reached for a fork and steak knife.
“Oh, trust me, I’m going to eat,” Jonah said without thinking.
Felix shot him a look from under his lashes as he licked bearnaise off his finger and Jonah’s heart stuttered.
Jesus, if he didn’t know better, he’d think Felix was intentionally teasing him.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
In the morning, Felix awoke to the sight of Jonah’s bare back. He was half on his stomach, breathing slowly and steadily.
He hadn’t had a single nightmare and he seemed perfectly relaxed. Good.
Felix stole a glance at the alarm clock to confirm that they still had ten minutes before it went off.
He watched the rise and fall of Jonah’s back, itching to touch him.
Jonah’s skin was so smooth, without a single freckle or mole. Just acres of flawless, soft-looking skin that Felix was tempted to explore.
Felix shifted a little closer, not quite touching, just breathing Jonah in. He smelled of the hotel’s soap, something citrusy and herbal. It mingled with his natural scent, teasing at Felix’s nostrils in a way that was both comforting and arousing.
Last night, Felix and Jonah had spent a quiet evening eating dinner and watching some dumb movie they’d found on the room’s TV. They’d turned in pretty early, wanting to be well-rested for the big game, and Felix felt great now, already a little amped up with anticipation.
Felix stared at Jonah, biting his lip to keep from reaching out to explore Jonah’s body. But he had no clear idea if Jonah wanted him that way. Felix liked to think he was pretty attractive but was he Jonah’s type?
He was tall and fit, sure, and he knew Jonah liked that.
But when Felix tried to think back on the guys Jonah had dated or hooked up with in the past, he couldn’t really pin down a type. He’d dated all sorts of guys. A variety of races or ethnicities, a variety of hair colors and eye colors …
No. That wasn’t helpful.
Jonah had often commented he liked funny guys, and Felix thought he was reasonably funny. He wasn’t going to quit pro hockey to become a comedian or anything but he certainly knew how to make Jonah laugh.
Jonah could be as indiscriminate with his hookups as the next guy when he got horny and was looking for a quick and dirty release, but he liked a good mental connection to the guys he dated more seriously. Someone he could talk to about a variety of things. Someone who didn’t get bored with him yammering about plants.