Page 67 of Home Ice Advantage

It turned out that Eric’s room was neither of those things. It was clear that he came home often enough to actually care about the way that it was updated, and even though it was small and only had the space for a double bed, it wasn’t cluttered with childhood artifacts or his parents’ discarded items that hadn’t fit anywhere else. It had the same Spartan style that his apartment had, with a lot of gray and navy blue, and as always, books piled up everywhere. Ryan immediately gravitated toward a stack of them, a little jump in his stomach when he saw the overlap: they both had copies ofThe Art of War, Marcus Aurelius, andHenry V, alongside the more obviously work-oriented tomes.

“You have good taste in books,” Ryan said, thumbing through the well-worn and hand-annotated copy ofThe Art of War.

“I’m glad you approve,” Eric said, dryly.

“So I’m allowed to sleep in here?”

“Ryan, I’m forty-two years old. Yes, you’re allowed to sleep in the room with me.”

“Pretty sure it wouldn’t be the same at my dad’s,” Ryan said, and set the book back down on the stack.

“Well, luckily, you’re not in Boston anymore, Dorothy.”

“Ouch, that was terrible.”

“What are you going to do about it?”

What Ryan did about it was cross the room to take Eric’s shirt in his fists and pull him closer so that he could tug him down into a kiss. Eric’s mouth opened easily under his, hot and giving, and Eric’s hands grabbed Ryan’s ass to pull him closer against the long line of his body.

“That’s a good start,” Eric said, a little breathless, “but really, I know you’re capable of a lot more than that.”

“It’s just—I don’t know, it’s kind of weird in here,” Ryan said, laughing a little nervously. “It’s your childhood bedroom. Your mom’s downstairs.”

“Considering you started this,” Eric said, his hand worming its way under Ryan’s shirt, “I think maybe you’re kind of into that.”

“Into what? Sneaking around in your parents’ house?” Ryan asked, teasing at first, then sucking in his breath sharply when Eric tweaked his nipple. “Not in the least. I’m not—”

“Not what?”

“Not into the exhibitionism—”

“Hmm, the guy who blew me in his office with the door unlocked, not into the exhibitionism?”

Ryan looked up at Eric, how fucking delighted he always was to needle him into discomfort, the way Ryanlikedit. Well, two could play at that game, couldn’t they? He lowered his gaze, pulling out of Eric’s hold, and said, “Are yousureit’s okay to do this? Your parents aren’t going to come home in the middle of things, are they?”

Eric’s hands on his biceps flexed, squeezing tighter for a moment. “Ryan fucking Sullivan.”

“What?” Ryan asked, innocent as anything. “I have to be careful; my parents wouldkillme if they knew I was here.”

“How do you keep talking me into this shit?” Eric grumbled, but he didn’t sound terribly annoyed about it.

“Because you only have so many opportunities to make out with me,” Ryan said, refusing to break character, “and you said your parents wouldn’t be back until late, so this is the perfect time to sneak me into your bedroom.”

Eric looked at him over the frame of his glasses, and there was a second where Ryan wasn’t sure whether he was actually going to go for it or not. And then his face shifted, and he was smiling, just a little mean. He moved forward and his hands on Ryan’s hips were warm; Ryan could almost feel the heat of them through his clothes. “I think that was just becausesomeonewas pretty eager to get sneaked into my bedroom and fucked up—” Eric walked him back toward the bed. “Or fucked?”

Ryan’s calves hit the edge of the bed, and he let Eric push him down onto it. It wasn’t a hard push, but Ryan also wasn’t fighting with it. He shifted backward so that Eric could move forward, between his legs. “But I’ve never done anything like this before,” he said, looking up again.

Eric’s eyes were laughing, but the curl of his mouth was a little mocking. “Oh really? That blowjob at school says otherwise. You like to pretend you’re so innocent, such a good, well-behaved boy, but you’re...anything except that, huh?”

“You make me do stupid things,” Ryan said, voice lowered to a throaty whisper, “against my better judgment. Like being here—” Eric was close enough to touch, so Ryan took advantage of the proximity, pulling him forward by the belt and leaning up into the kiss.

“You’re fucking ridiculous, you know that?” Eric mumbled into it.

“You’re enjoying it,” Ryan retorted, and got the answer he was looking for when he started to unbuckle Eric’s belt and try to get his hand down his pants.

“You know, for someone who claims he’s never done this before, you’re awfully—awfully sure about—”

“I’m a fast learner. You know that.”

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