Page 111 of Goaltender Interference

“I—”

“He needs to hear it right now, okay?” Jesse’s expression was unusually serious. “Make sure he knows you’ll love him no matter what. That you’ll be proud of him.”

Connor frowned. “Jesse …”

“Just listen, please. Nolan’s feeling a bit … vulnerable right now. You don’t have to know why. Just give him some extra support.”

Connor bit his tongue because this was hiskidJesse was talking about. Who was he to lecture Connor about how to raise his children? But … but there had to be a reason Nolan had gone to Jesse in the first place. Why he hadn’t come to Connor.

This was hard, but he’d have to do it. He’d have to let this unfold in its own time. “Okay,” Connor said, letting out a breath. “Okay. I’ll do that.”

“Now,” Jesse said, sidling a little closer. “What do you say we make out for a bit?”

Connor laughed. “I thought we’d agreed no sex in the house when the kids are home.”

“Making out isn’t sex. We’ll stay fully dressed.”

Connor shot him a skeptical look because he trusted Jesse about as far as he could throw him when it came tothis. But … damn, his mouth was tempting. “Come here,” Connor said with a sigh.

“Hey! Don’t sound so annoyed by the idea of kissing me,” Jesse teased.

Connor grinned and tugged him forward until he was half draped over Connor’s chest. “Always trying to lead me into temptation, you little demon …” he whispered before he cupped Jesse’s cheek and leaned in for a kiss.

They made out until Connor’s lips tingled and he couldn’t resist sliding a hand down to cup Jesse’s cock. But Jesse settled a hand on his chest, licking his lips. “We shouldn’t. The kids …”

And Connor had to concede he was right.

It was late, and they needed to get ready for bed soon, so he turned off the TV—the postgame commentary had ended a while ago—and tidied a few things around the house. But when he turned to go up the stairs, he suddenly hated the thought that Jesse wouldn’t be right beside him while he slept.

“Come up to my room once you’re ready for bed,” he said, feeling impulsive.

Was it stupid? Yes. Was it risky? Also yes. Did he care? Not particularly.

“You sure that’s a good idea?” Jesse asked, his expression skeptical.

“No,” Connor admitted. “But I want it anyway.”

Jesse’s face lit up and he pressed a hand to Connor’s chest, leaning in to kiss him thoroughly. “I’msucha bad influence on you.”

“Yeah, you are,” Connor agreed when he drew back. “C’mon.”

Fifteen minutes later, as Connor slid into bed and waited for Jesse to appear, he admitted he was behaving recklessly. The girls were in the room beside his and there was a very real chance Maura could have a nightmare and come knocking on his door.

But he’d grown accustomed to Jesse’s soft breathing beside him while he slept. He liked the heat of his body and the cute little noises he made as he settled into sleep.

Connor was falling in love with Jesse.

And while he knew, heknew, he should put an end to this instead of letting it grow even deeper, he wanted it anyway.

For once in his fucking life, he wanted something just for himself. He’d been a good son, a good brother, a good teammate. He’d been a good father and a good—well, maybe mediocre—husband. But he’d always thought about the people in his life first. Every decision he made had been weighed against how it would impact the team, how it would impact their Cup potential.

Now, selfishly, with no thought to everyone else it could impact, he wanted this stolen time with Jesse.

He wasn’t delusional enough to think Jesse was in love with him too. But maybe that was okay. Maybe not everything had to be wrapped up in a neat little bow at the end. Maybe this didn’t have to lead to marriage and a family.

He had his kids and he loved them and maybe it was okay if he had this thing with Jesse until whenever it ended. Maybe it was okay if he enjoyed something that made him feel good.

The door opened quietly and Jesse crept in, dressed in soft-looking pajamas and a T-shirt. He shut the door behind him, then hesitated like he thought Connor might have changed his mind.

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