Page 66 of Iced Out

And while it might be risky, if there’s anyone I could ask about Oakley to, it’d be him.

Hopefully.

Only one way to find out…

Clearing my throat, I look up at the goalie and do my best to act casual.

“Hey, Cam?”

He glances up at me from his spot on the bench, dark blond hair flopping into his eyes. “Hey, man. What’s up?”

“Did you happen to see if Reed left already?”

His brows furrow for a second, but he schools his expression quickly. “Don’t think so. Last I saw, he was walking into the showers. That was maybe…five minutes ago. Why?”

“Just need to talk to him about something before we go back on break. Nothing serious.”

Lies, lies, lies.

He takes a moment, measuring my words before he rises to stand, responding when he tosses the duffle strap over his shoulder. “Pretty sure he went to the last stall. If he’s not there anymore, he can’t be further than the parking lot.”

“Okay, cool. Thanks,” I say awkwardly.

“Course. Have a good one. And great game tonight, by the way.”

I give him a nod. “Yeah, you too, man.”

And with that, he grabs his keys and heads out the door.

I make a discreet sweep of the locker room as I walk toward the showers, noting there’s more guys here than I originally thought. Maybe four or five.

And when I notice the only shower running is the one at the very end—the one Camden mentioned seeing Oak go into—I might as well be shot up with adrenaline.

I don’t even have to see the guy. Just picturing him naked, surrounded by steam. Dripping wet and covered in soap, and Jesus,I need get ahold of myself before I do something stupid. Like get in there with him. Run my hands all over his sinful body.

That’s what I want, though.

I want it so much, I don’t even think of the repercussions of someone seeing me going into his stall, or worse, having it not be his stall at all.

It takes me all of two seconds to decide the odds are in my favor, glance around to see the coast is clear, and pull the handle on the frosted glass door.

Thank God they didn’t put locks on these damn things.

Luck is on my side, because as I slip in and silently close the door behind me, I find Oakley standing under the spray of water. Even with his back facing me, I know it’s him. At this point, I’d recognize that ass anywhere, complete with a little dimpled indent above each cheek.

Hanging my towel on the hook next to his, I step under the spray behind him.

“Wha—”

My palm clasps over his mouth to silence thewhat the fuckabout to leave it. Loudly. And I didn’t make this whole effort to not be seen, only for him to blow our cover.

“Shh,” I murmur into his ear. “It’s just me.”

Releasing my hand from over his mouth, I let it slide down over his shoulder before stepping away. He spins around to face me, eyes wide, and a look falling somewhere between stern and pissed off crosses his face.

“Are you insane? What’re you doing in here?”

Not exactly the response I was hoping for, though I don’t know why I expected anything less.

---