Page 35 of Unrivaled

Max didn’t hold it for him, so they were past the pretense of their date, which was a relief. Grady didn’t feel like faking social niceties.

“You want a bottle of water or something?” Max asked as he tossed his keys in a dish by the door.

Grady had chugged a Gatorade in the car. “I’m not thirsty.”

“What’re you doing here, then?” But he clearly didn’t care about the answer, because he grabbed a fistful of Grady’s shirt and pulled him into a kiss.

Max kissed the way he played hockey, fast and hard and with an edge of teeth, always daring Grady to push back harder, to take him to the boards. Grady tried to hold back on the ice, but fuck if he was doing that here. He fisted a hand in Max’s damp hair and bit his lower lip. “Where’s your bedroom?”

Max hissed into his mouth and then pulled away. “Upstairs. Come on.”

This time Grady didn’t ask about foreplay. If he’d learned anything about Max, it was that the competitionwasforeplay.

Grady couldn’t say it didn’t work for him.

Max’s wet T-shirt hit the hardwood at the top of the stairs. He didn’t even look back at it. If he wanted to wreck his floor, Grady wouldn’t stop him. He pulled his own shirt off, tossed it in a corner where no one would trip on it, and followed Max into his bedroom.

Any other time, he might have looked around to see what the room said about its owner. But Grady was a little busy right now, because Max had shoved his hand down the front of Grady’s shorts.

His enthusiasm was contagious, or at least that was what Grady told himself. He bit Max’s lower lip again as Max thumbed the head of his cock and then slid his hands over Max’s ass and squeezed.

The space between them evaporated, so Max had to move his hand. But that was okay, because now Grady could grind their cocks together while kneading Max’s cheeks. Whatever Max’s many other flaws, he had a great ass, and Grady looked forward to getting to know it better.

Maybe Max was thinking the same thing about Grady’s dick, because he started tugging at Grady’s waistband. “Off, come on, get these off.”

But—“Fair’s fair,” Grady said, and when he stepped back to undress, Max did the same.

Then, for the first time, they were naked together.

Max had a body built for hockey—thick, well-defined thighs and strong arms, abs hidden under a layer of fat. This was a man who valued function over form—he needed the extra weight now because he’d burn through it and then some by the end of the season. It looked good on him.

Not as good as Grady would look on him, though. He shoved Max backward onto the bed, climbed up after him, and straddled his waist.

“Thought you were gonna fuck me.” Max squirmed under him. He raked his nails up the inside of Grady’s thigh and then wrapped his hand around Grady’s dick. “Gonna be kind of tough in that position.”

Grady thrust into his grip. “I thought you were gonna let me be in charge.”

Max laughed and raised his eyebrows, telegraphingI dare you.

Well, they weren’t on the ice. Grady didn’t have to feel guilty about giving in. He rose onto his knees, shoved Max onto his belly, and then settled his weight on his ass. That should keep him out of trouble for the next few seconds. “Where’s your lube, if you’re so hard up for it?”

Max scrabbled under the pillows at the head of the bed and retrieved a strip of condoms and a half-empty bottle. At least it was a decent brand. Not as nice as the one Grady preferred, but beggars and choosers.

Except Grady wasn’t going to be the beggar in this scenario.

He shifted down the bed so he was sitting on Max’s thighs. Then he uncapped the lube… and stopped. “What the fuck is that?”

Max turned to look over his shoulder, his hair half falling in his face. “What—oh, that’s Larry.”

“Larry?” Grady repeated. Without meaning to, he traced his fingers over the bright red cartoon lobster tattooed on Max’s left asscheek. “You named your tramp stamp?”

“Excuse you, it’s not a tramp stamp, it’s a testament to my cultural heritage.” He wiggled his ass. “Is this going to be a deal-breaker for you?”

Unfortunately, it was not. Grady’s brain tried to point out that he’d rejected a guy for questionable tattoos last week, but his dick overruled the objection. “Why a lobster?”

He could practically hear the eye roll. “I’m from New Brunswick. They give us those when we’re born.”

Smartass. Grady slapped him on the lobster—not hard enough to hurt, just to sting a little.

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