Page 33 of Slew Foot
He’d made it very clear he wasn’t interested in getting involved with a teammate.
And he was smart for that, Mickey thought as he stood.
“I’ll get a ride share,” Rafe continued. “The hotel’s like … ten, fifteen minutes from here, right?”
“Yeah.”
Rafe did something on his phone, then started for the door.
“I’ll walk you out,” Mickey said.
Tanner gave him a weird look before returning to his screen and Mickey resisted the urge to flick him in the forehead.
He’d had no idea when he’d signed with this team he’d end up with a little brother who was technically a year older than him, but here they were.
Mickey followed Rafe to the door, resolutely keeping his gaze straight ahead, locked on Rafe’s wide shoulders. Which wasn’t necessarily a whole lot better than staring at his ass like Mickeywas tempted, but this way if he got caught, he wouldn’t look like a creepy—no, creeper, he mentally corrected himself.
Rafe put on his shoes and coat, then beamed at Mickey. “Thanks for letting me hang out. This was fun.”
“Any time,” Mickey said before he caught himself. Fuck, he shouldn’t have said that.
Especially when Rafe’s smile widened. It was bright and happy and made his already attractive face even more appealing.
“Thanks. G’night.” Rafe held his arms out for a hug and Mickey took a deep breath, bracing himself as Rafe wrapped him up tight and squeezed.
Unfortunately, all that did was give Mickey a big lungful of Rafe’s cologne, something warm and comforting and arousing all at once.
Mickey carried the scent with him as he closed the door behind Rafe and stumbled into the living room, earning him a snicker from Tanner.
He muttered, “Shut the fuck up,” in German to Tanner, who only laughed harder. He might not know what it meant, but he could probably guess.
Especially when it was accompanied by Mickey’s raised middle finger.
The scent of Rafe’s cologne lingered as Mickey got ready for bed, brushing his teeth in a daze. After he slipped under the covers and turned the light out, he closed his eyes and thought of the smell again. He slipped a hand under the waistband of his pajamas, palming his cock before he even realized what he was doing.
I will not jerk off to my teammate, Mickey thought, yanking his hand away.
He rolled over onto his stomach and muffled his frustrated groan against the pillow.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The following night, music thumped on the speakers and the locker room was filled with noisy chaos as the team dressed for the game against Florida.
Tanner was in charge of the playlist, and it was pretty good—full of high energy and catchy tunes.
Rafe hummed along as he strapped on his pads and laced his skates. He felt warm and loose and happy. They’d played two-touch in the hallway, the guys folding him into their circle like he’d always been there, tossing around the soccer ball and throwing chirps back and forth.
Last night, he’d gone straight from Mickey and Tanner’s place to his hotel, turned on a movie and crawled into bed. He’d made it through about twenty minutes before he rolled over and crashed for like twelve hours.
He no longer felt like a zombie and while he hadn’t been downstairs by the time Mickey called this morning, he had been up and dressed this time.
So, like,progress?
They’d had a light skate that morning, some easy drills that had gone well, and Rafe was excited about the game tonight. Kady was in net tonight and Jesse was riding the bench, keeping up a constant stream of chatter at the guys, cheering them on, consoling them for the bad passes and the missed opportunities.
The game went a little better than the first one he’d played. The passes between him and Mickey were connecting more often and Rafe was finally getting a feel for where he was supposed to be. Mickey seemed to be settling in too and talking a lot more. It helped Rafe, gave him an anchor and a way to orient himself as he figured out the system.
Like now, as he dug the puck out from the tangle of guys along the wall.
