Page 35 of The Official Problem
Matthieu nodded slowly. “Tonight,” he muttered back.
Kieran’s lips twitched, just the hint of a smile, but his tone stayed flat. “I live…”
Matthieu cut him off. “Not there.” The idea of sneaking into Kieran’s house felt reckless, too risky. What if they were followed? What if someone saw them?What if Matthieu never wanted to leave?
“Okay,” Kieran said slowly, thinking it over. The other players were already regrouping in the defensive zone for the face-off. They were running out of time. “Across the street, then. I’ll text you the room number.”
Matthieu started to tell him he didn’t have his number, but Kieran was already skating away. He’d figure it out later. Right now, he didn’t have time to think about it. He shoved the nerves down and forced himself to focus on the game.
The play was fast, players darting from one end of the rink to the other, bodies crashing into the boards in an almost rhythmic dance. Matthieu’s hand tightened around the whistle, his mind racing. Under it all, his heart kept pounding for a different reason entirely.
Matthieu entered the hotel lobby across the street. He tugged his hat low, as if anyone would actually recognize him, let alone guess he was here to have sex with Kieran Lloyd. He knew he was being paranoid, but it wasn't doing anything to stop him from acting sketchy as hell. He headed for the elevator and slipped inside, pulling out the phone that had burned a hole in his pocket the whole walk over.
Unknown
Room 1239
He was grateful he’d never changed his number. Maybe a little warm and fuzzy too, that even though Kieran had changed his, he’d kept Matthieu’s.
Don’t be stupid. He probably did a bulk transfer.
Still, the first thing Matthieu had done after Kieran broke his heart was delete his number. Petty, in hindsight.
The elevator crawled up to the twelfth floor. Maybe his heart was pounding so fast that everything else felt like it was moving in slow motion. Finally, the doors dinged open, and he stepped out into the hallway, praying it was empty.
He could only imagine the field day a fan would have if they caught him sneaking into Kieran’s room. Not that a fan would recognize him, of course. But the hotel was across from the arena, and plenty of fans were staying here—fans who’d recognize a star like Kieran Lloyd and wonder why an Inferno player needed a hotel room when he lived in the area.
He was thinking too hard, as usual.
Kieran was known for being openly gay. He probably hooked up with half the city from hotel rooms, even in his own damn neighborhood. If Matthieu were rich and famous like Kieran, he wouldn’t take strangers home either. That would be foolish. A hotel made sense for a hook-up, because that’s all this was, after all.
Room 1239 was at the very end of the hallway. Matthieu hesitated outside the door, unsure what the hell he was supposed to do next. Should he text? Call? He took a deep breath and knocked, just two quick taps against the smooth wood of the door. A second later, it yanked open to reveal Kieran’s grinning face.
“I wasn’t sure if you would come.” Kieran wore that smug little grin that made Matthieu want to punch something. He almost turned right back around. “Are you going to come in?”
Running would be easy. Following Kieran inside was the harder choice.
Man, did he look good. His hair was still damp from his post-game shower, but the suit he’d worn out of the arena was gone. Matthieu thought he’d be disappointed to miss out on peeling Kieran out of one of those perfect suits. God, he looked so good in them.
The low-hanging gray sweats and oversized tank dipping down to reveal his dusted, chiseled chest more than made up for it. That was new. At least, Kieran hadn’t had chest hair back when they were together. Maybe he was too young to grow it then. Maybe he used to shave.
Matthieu stepped across the threshold.
“You want something to drink? There’s beer in the fridge.”
Matthieu nodded and grabbed one, mostly to have something to do besides shuffle around like an idiot. He hadn’t thought past getting to the hotel room. Now, he had no idea what the next step was. With random hookups, Matthieu cut straight to the chase. He didn’t need names, didn’t need life stories. He and the guy were there for one thing only: to get off, then get out.
With Kieran, it was different. He knew Kieran—his name, his story, all of it. They’d had sex before, countless times. Even after all these years, the familiarity made it feel like there should be more.
Kieran didn’t seem to share his hesitation. He gave Matthieu just long enough to crack open the beer and take a swig. Then, he crossed the room and grabbed him by the back of the neck. He studied Matthieu’s face like he was searching for doubt, before he leaned in and crashed their mouths together.
Kissing Kieran was like coming home. It was hungry and familiar, like no time had passed at all. Like it was only this morning when they were twenty-one, kissing for what neither of them knew would be the last time. They hadn’t kissed at theclub. Now they kissed like they were running out of time. As if any minute, one of them would come to their senses and call the whole thing off.
Kieran broke from the kiss first, only to trail pecks, nips, and slow, teasing kisses up the side of Matthieu’s neck, along his jaw, all the way to his ear.
“What do you need?” he mouthed against Matthieu’s lobe, then nuzzled into the cropped hair above his temple.
Everything.Matthieu needed everything he’d gone without for years.
