Page 49 of First Puck

He lifted his arms, his hands gripping the top of the doorframe, leaning forward, stretching his hard muscles tight under his skin. I loved the diamonds of dark hair under his arms, and the way it brushed over his chest. The number of times I’d imagined sucking him there was probably a crime. But desire had never hit me so strongly that I had to press my palm against the counter to stop myself from tipping forward—and to hide the way my cock grew stiff.

Even the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed was turning me on.

“Hey,” I said, my eyes dropping back to my oatmeal. I really didn’t want to have to deal with whatever all the tension meant when I’d barely slept.

We had a few hours of practice before my classes started at 10AM.

“We’ve got ten minutes. I don’t want to be late,” I said.

Our kitchen was tiny, barely big enough for both of us to fit. We could just squeeze past each other if we pressed ourselves to the counters. It was always the perfect excuse to touch him.

“How was Lance? I didn’t see him this morning.” Brad said with forced casualness. Even just him saying Lance's name made things even more tense.

“Yeah, he’s fine. He just went to the rink early to get set up.”

“Uh huh,” he said, still stretching, still looking at me.

“What?” I asked, tilting my head. I couldn’t get through the door unless I rubbed against him. My cock was telling me it was a fantastic idea, which was why I never listened to it and got myself into this situation instead.

“You didn’t think of asking before you spent all night fucking your boyfriend?” he asked, his gaze fixed on the cabinets opposite me.

Did he want me to apologize?

“He’s not my boyfriend,” I said flatly. “We just went on one date. And I didn’t realize I had to ask permission when we all live here.” I addressed that part instead of how hard it was when he used to stumble home drunk with a girl in tow and I had to listen to them for hours.

“Okay, but he’s gonna be, isn’t he? If you’re already fucking, then that’s basically a one-way ticket. Boyfriend material right there, eh?” He snorted as his arms fell. It only took one step for him to get into my space.

“Are you angry about him staying in my room last night?” I asked, hoping to get a proper answer instead of blustering from both sides.

“No, not really,” he said more softly. “I’m more worried about him hurting you.”

I twisted my lips, trying to work out what the hell he was saying.

“You’ve known Lance as long as I have. It’s not really your problem.”

“Does that mean you guys are gonna be doing this all the time?”

“We’re not…We didn’t…” I squeezed my eyes closed. It was too much for a Monday morning. I needed coffee, and I wanted to breathe ice into my lungs before I did anything else because standing even from a foot away Brad was making me hot.

But I’d set all this in motion by agreeing to Brad 9.0.

All the fake moaning last night was embarrassing more than anything else. It was all just a game. By the end, Lance and I were holding back our laughs as we tried to see who could make the most ridiculous moan.

“Brad, you’re being weird. Can you just be happy for me?”

His body stiffened, his brow furrowing. I normally loved seeing him think about things, but this time it set me on edge.

“Well, how can I be happy when I don’t know what’s going on?” he mumbled, dropping his gaze again.

“Why do you need to, though? I don’t ask you about your relationships.”

“But I tell you everything. There’s nothing I don’t share with you.”

“Yeah, you do, but I don’t ask.” I drew in my stomach, preparing myself as much as I could. “And if you really want to know, we didn’t have sex last night.”

“What?” he replied straight away. “Why not? He was right there.”

I sighed out a tired breath. I was usually fine talking to Brad about the surface level stuff. We did get into deeper conversations, but I always strayed away from talking about what I really wanted in a partner—which definitely wasn’t “big-ass titties” like he did.

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