Page 6 of Crossing Lines

“I think I’ll take a dirty boy.” I ticked my brows at him. “Anda beer, please. You have any Molson?” It was about the only taste of home I could think of in a place like this.

He eyed me up and down, then smirked. “Sure, coming right up.” He left and poured my shot, then opened a bottle of beer for me and set them both on the bar top.

I thanked and paid him, then scanned down the bar a moment before taking my shot, the sweet liquid sliding down my throat. “Oh fuck.” I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and sipped my beer. I was done with those. They’d only lead to a hellacious hangover in the morning.

A man with a dark head of hair stood at the corner, tapping his hands on the bar.

“No fucking way.” I narrowed my eyes at him. Could it be the guy on the team I’d noticed? Maybe he was one of the queer players?

Grabbing my beer, I wound through men to the corner of the bar, then planted my beer next to his. If he was here, what was I going to do about it? I didn’t even know if he was on defense and, technically, one ofmyplayers. Shit, I didn’t want to fuck up my new job already.

The guy twisted around and lifted a brow, his brown eyes raking over me. “Hi.” He bit the side of his lower lip.

It wasn’t the player from my team. “Hi.” I gave him my best smile. He wasn’t bad to look at and was close enough. He could pass for my player in my imagination. Yeah, that would do. And I wasn’t going to think too much about it. Not tonight. “Happy New Year.” I held up my bottle to him.

“Happy New Year.” He tapped his beer to mine with a clink, then drank it.

After a few gulps of my beer, I cocked my head, taking in his white cropped shirt and the rippled ab muscles underneath it, a trail of hair leading into his jeans. “What’s your name?”

“Owen.” He drank more of his beer, flicked his gaze behind me, and then came back. “And you are?”

“Ryan.” I inched closer to him. He wasn’t moving away,which was a good sign. He didn’t look older than his early twenties. “You a student at the college here?”

“Yeah.” A grin teased his lips. “I’m studying business, well, marketing, really.” He rocked to the beat of the music. “How about you?”

“Me? I’m done with school. I work, um, I’m a hockey coach for the Devils.” Might as well get it out of the way. He wasn’t a hockey player, so he wasn’t technically off-limits.

“Really?” His eyes lit up. “I don’t know much about hockey, but aren’t you a little young to be a coach?” As he tongued his lower lip, he worked his gaze over me.

“Not really. I’m twenty-eight. I graduated from school in Toronto with a degree in kinesiology. Comes in handy if you want to coach hockey.” I sipped my beer and did a quick scan of the men filtering in through the door. It was going to be packed. But what had I expected on New Year’s Eve?

He tapped the top of his bottle against my chest. “So, did you everplayhockey?”

My chest stung and I dipped my head for a beat. I didn’t want to get into it with him. This would only be a hookup. “Yeah, I played until my first year out of high school. Got into juniors and…” I focused on him, his brows knitting. He didn’t know what I was talking about. “Anyway, I quit when I was eighteen and decided to coach instead.” There, that was the abbreviated version.

“Guess you weren’t good enough to keep going?” He smirked as he drank his beer.

Heat prickled over my skin. “I was good enough, I just…” Fuck, it wasn’t worth getting into. I’d been a shoo-in for the draft. I had been damn good. This guy wouldn’t understand. “Just didn’t work out, is all.”

“Okay.” He set his hand over mine resting on the bar top and gave me a coy smile. “Anyway, want to dance?”

I peeked at the dancefloor. There were too many people out there to move around very much. The knee would be okay. “Sure.” Twisting my hand around, I grabbed his and hauled him out to the dancefloor, then turned around.

With a smirk, he hooked an arm around my waist and dragged our hips together, brushing his already hard cock against mine through our jeans. “You’re pretty hot.”

“Yeah? So are you.” He wasn’t wasting any time. I ground on him, my dick lengthening against his, then claimed him with a hungry kiss.

His tongue darted between my lips and swiped over mine, then he broke the kiss. “Where you from, Ryan?”

“Toronto.” Hadn’t I basically told him that already? I swayed with him and bounced to the beat, the friction on my cock shivering up my spine. “You?”

“I’m from here. Born and raised in Scottsdale, also known as Snotsdale.” He let out a sharp chuckle, then his brows quirked. “You’re Canadian?”

“I am.” I cupped his cheek, then pressed another kiss to his mouth, gliding my tongue inside to tangle with his.

With a moan, he slapped both hands to my ass and ground on me. “Fuck, can we go somewhere?”

“Restroom?” I nibbled on his earlobe, and he shuddered in my arms. This guy was a needy fucker. I liked that.

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