Page 29 of Scoring Position

Frankly Ryan was surprised it had lasted that long. “I’ve got a roll in my bag.” He jerked his thumb toward his hotel room door. “If you want…?”

If you want to come into my room and take your shirt off.Ryan could’ve smacked himself. Never mind low-hanging. This fruit wasforbidden.

But he couldn’t think of a graceful way to take it back. Even if he could, he’d already watched Nico’s expression turn from wary to surprised to grateful, and he didn’t have the emotional fortitude to reverse the process. “If it’s no problem? Thank you.”

Ah, hell. “Sure,” Ryan said. He waved his key card in front of the lock. “Come on in.”

Nico saved Ryan a third minor crisis of the evening by sitting in the desk chair instead of on the bed while Ryan dug his KT tape out of his go bag. He’d had his own shoulder taped enough times to know what to do. “Is this a souvenir from breaking your arm?”

When he turned around, Nico had his shirt in his lap, facing away from Ryan. For a moment all Ryan could do was look at him—the curl of his hair at the nape of his neck, the strength in his arms and chest. “That was the other arm. I…. Don’t tell Lefty?”

Ryan shook himself out of it. “Why would I tell Lefty?” He ripped off the first strip.

Nico glanced up, cheeks pink. “It’s just a pulled muscle. It was better, but I strained it again during our celly.”

Okay, all things considered, that was pretty funny. Ryan coughed to cover a laugh. He could understand why Nico wouldn’t want that story getting out. “Your secret’s safe with me.” He peeled off the anchor backing and applied it to the front of Nico’s shoulder joint, smoothing carefully over the glue. He could feel the warmth of Nico’s skin through the tape, but he tried not to touch him directly. “You know the drill.”

Nodding, Nico bent his elbow and reached across toward his other arm. Ryan stretched the tape around the side and back of his shoulder, following the joint, then anchored the back of the tape. God, he was beautiful.

“It was worth it,” Nico said abruptly, interrupting Ryan’s determined focus on rubbing the tape to get the glue to set. He startled and his fingers slid across the smooth skin of Nico’s back. He quickly pulled his hand away before it could turn into a caress. “The muscle pull, and reminding myself to celebrate. Thank you.”

Ryan made himself smile even though his mouth was dry. “Happy to help.” His voice sounded hoarse. “Okay, arm down. Next strip.”

The next two anchored on Nico’s chest. Ryan licked his lips as he peeled the backing from the tape. Then he smoothed it onto the generous curve of Nico’s pectoral muscle, halfway between his collarbone and his nipple.

Nico inhaled sharply when Ryan’s little finger slipped and almost brushed his areola. Goose bumps broke out over his neck and shoulder, and his nipple went hard.

“Sorry.” Ryan concentrated on smoothing the tape around the ball of Nico’s shoulder to the back.

Nico cleared his throat. “It’s fine.”

The whole process took maybe five minutes—five minutes of Nico shirtless in his hotel room in the middle of the night with Ryan’s hands all over his body, and Ryan was very aware that his semi was directly in Nico’s eye line. He’d overestimated his self-control.

But finally it was done, the last piece of tape set. “Good?”

Nico rolled his shoulder, then looked up at him. The tension had bled out of his posture, leaving him loose and a little too approachable—dangerous. “Good,” he said. He tugged his shirt over his head, and Ryan felt a little pang of disappointment even as he exhaled in relief. “Thanks again. I should probably get going.”

God yes, please. Ryan needed some time alone with his right hand.

But as Nico turned to say good night at the door, his eye caught on the mess of stuff Ryan had pulled out of his bag in the search for KT tape. “Oh, do you play?”

Ryan followed his gaze. He’d taken to carrying a tiny magnetic chess set. “Kind of. My sister and I binge-watchedThe Queen’s Gambittogether, so now we have a game going by internet. But she’s taking lessons, so she’s kicking my ass.” Nico’s expression went hungry and a little calculating, an entirely different kind of sexy. “Why? Doyouplay?”

Nico grinned like a shark. “My mother is Russian. We should play sometime.”

Ryan’s brain got stuck on the mental image of Nico frowning over a chess board, shirtless. “Sure,” he agreed as casually as he could. “It’s a date.”

RYAN SPENThis off day with Chenner and Yorkie and did his best not to wonder what Nico was up to or when they might have a chess match.

The San Jose game went better than Ryan expected. The Fuel weren’t exactly flying high, but at least they were holding the home team at bay—in the bay?—and Greenie was in fine form. Games like this reminded Ryan that Greenie had won a Cup in his younger days.

Which meant that despite Nico struggling to keep his game even and San Jose being the general favorite, the game was tied 1–1 for regulation.

Ryan—stuck in play for the last minute and change thanks to an icing call—slumped off the ice, panting.

Fortunately he probably wouldn’t have to play OT. He wasn’t exactly a 3-on-3 ringer.

Across the room, Nico looked drawn and tense. Considering that he was theoretically a top choice for this special team and practiced for it on the regular, Vorhees rarely iced him in overtime. And true to form, Vorhees sent out literally everyone else he could before finally, in the dying minutes of OT, giving Nico the nod. It wasn’t a train wreck, but Ryan couldn’t help but think that Nico might have played better three minutes ago.

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