Page 67 of Goaltender Interference

“Look, I’m not gonna go into details but I definitely fucking did,” Connor insisted, his tone turning stubborn. “The best head of my life actually.”

“Really?” Pennington shot him a surprised glance. “Well, good for you, man.”

The best head of his life, huh? Jesse tried not to preen. Well, that was nice to hear. He shouldn’t be surprised though.

He was amazing at what he did inandout of the net.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Life had been a hell of a lot simpler when Connor was sure he was straight and he wasn’t fucking a guy on the team. Now everything felt all muddy and confusing and he was trying to be sure his team didn’t treat Jesse and Tanner like shit while also trying not to give in to his urge to get jealous.

It didn’t help that Jesse looked fucking great tonight.

Connor wasn’t even sure what it was that looked so good. Sure, his custom-fit jeans made his legs and ass look as fantastic as they felt, he had on a black shirt that made his eyes stand out, and he also had a piece of hair that kept falling over his forehead in a way that made Connor want to brush it out of the way.

But none of that should have made Connor feel this keyed up tonight. And then there was that stunt with the shot that had made Connor choke on his drink.

Because Jessehadto know how that looked. Hehadto know how it had made Connor think of the blowjob from the other day. And now Connor couldn’t decide if he wanted to strangleJesse or kiss him. Or, more likely both. Because that was just what Jesse did to him.

But neither were a good idea. Ugh, what was Connor thinking, fucking someone on the team?

Frankly, Connor wished he had a good reason to head home now instead of buying shots for a bunch of idiot hockey players in the name of team bonding. He didn’t usually go quite so hard with the liquor, but they had a day off tomorrow and half of the guys there wouldn’t be playing in the first few pre-season games. Connor certainly wasn’t.

He couldn’t wait to watch Jesse in net on Sunday though. He was going to be fucking good for the franchise.

Watching him at training camp had beenelectric.

“What do you think, Connor?” Jesse asked, settling a hand on his thigh under the table.

“Uhh, what?” he said, suddenly aware that he’d been paying zero attention to the guys for a few minutes.

“About some other team stuff we should do during the pre-season. I was thinking we’d do an escape room and maybe finding somewhere to do some zip lining.”

“Um, yeah, we could do that. I was planning to do some golf?—”

“Golf is boring.” Jesse made a face. “No, we can do better thanthat.”

Jesse squeezed Connor’s thigh and Connor had a sudden, horrible flashback to the drive home the other day when he’d nearly crashed his SUV several times. At least he was sitting down at the moment, but that didn’t mean it was safe.

Their teammates were right there for fuck’s sake!

Connor shifted forward, intending to push Jesse’s hand off, but unfortunately, that only pushed Jesse’s hand higher on his thigh.

Jesse squeezed again, pinkie teasing against his inseam, and Connor had to breathe shallowly through his nose.

Oh, he’d made aterribledecision.

The conversation flowed around him—Graham giving Jesse shit about hating golf, Jesse protesting that he didn’t hate it, he just got bored doing the same thing all the time, then coming up with increasingly wild-sounding team activities—before Connor finally had enough.

“Hey, I’m gonna …” he muttered, lurching out of the booth.

Jesse shot him a weird look but didn’t comment. Connor fled for the bar again, this time, making a beeline for the white-haired bartender pulling a pint.

“Hey there. What can I get you, O’Shea?” Liam O’Neill asked, his Irish accent not softened a bit by the decades he’d lived in America.

“Uh, just a water at the moment.”

Liam arched an eyebrow but nodded, filling the glass and sliding it across the scarred wooden bartop without a word.

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