Page 31 of The Official Problem
“If you need someone to take the edge off,” Kieran murmured. “Someone to fuck.”
The offer hung there, heavy and all too tempting. He couldn’t seriously consider this… could he?
The last thing he needed was someone else to take care of, something else to nurture. Yet, that wasn’t what Kieran was offering. He wasn’t asking to be handled delicately. He was offering himself up as an outlet for the anger and emotion that threatened to pull Matthieu under. Sex was just sex.
Aside from Julie’s call that morning, Matthieu hadn’t thought about any of his other problems since he’d fucked Kieran’s face against that wall. He still wasn’t sleeping, but that wasn’t new. What was new was the reason. It wasn’t guilt over his mother or the stress of hiding the truth from Julie that kept him up all week. It was Kieran. More specifically, the memory of how right it had felt to lose himself in Kieran’s mouth.
“You wouldn’t owe me anything,” Kieran said, breaking the silence. “I’m not looking for more than what this is. Take what you need from me and forget the rest.”
Matthieu couldn’t find the words. He couldn’t even find a coherent thought. Still, he felt he had to say something. “Why?”
Kieran gave him a look like the answer should’ve been obvious. “Why do I do anything when it comes to you?” He turned and reached for the door, pausing with his hand on the handle like he was waiting for Matthieu to stop him.
He didn’t—couldn’t.
A few seconds passed. Kieran sighed, “Just think about it.” Then he was gone.
TWELVE
KIERAN
Kieran’s heart hammered in his chest. If he hadn’t been in peak physical health, he might’ve worried he was having a heart attack. Every insane reaction his body had lately was tied to Matthieu.
He didn’t have a plan when he pulled Matthieu into that supply closet. He just wanted to make sure Matthieu was okay, to look into his eyes and make sure the chaotic energy from the club had passed, that some trace of the boy he’d once known and loved was still there. But within moments of being crammed into that small space, seeing how lost Matthieu looked, words he never thought he’d say in a million years began pouring out.
It wasn’t like he hadn’t meant every single one of them. Kieran hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Matthieu all week. The slightest touch against his skin catapulted him back in time. Memories of being manhandled, of how good it had felt, overwhelmed his senses. He knew he should’ve felt violated. Wasn't that how people usually felt when someone used them in a seedy backroom? Instead, all he wanted was more.
Apparently, his face didn’t do a great job of hiding the mess in his head, because Ivan clocked him the second he stepped into the locker room. He stood shirtless off to one side, a towelwrapped around his waist. A silver chain held a wedding band, half hidden by the fur on his chest. There was a time when seeing Ivan like that would have triggered a Pavlovian response in Kieran.
Today, he wasn’t interested, which was for the best. Ivan was a married man, even if his husband had been shoving his tongue down someone else’s throat a few days earlier. Kieran wondered if they had left together, if they hadallleft together. He pushed it aside.
“Penny for a thought?”
Ivan tugged on his jeans and pulled a hoodie over his bare torso. There wasn’t a game tonight, so they could leave the stadium however they wanted.
Kieran applied a mask he hoped came across as smug arrogance. “I wouldn’t bankrupt you like that.”
Ivan didn’t push. “You have plans for tonight?”
Kieran saw where this was heading. He didn’t mind Ivan’s company, but if he let Ivan get him drunk, he might let slip some of his muddled thoughts. That couldn’t happen.
“Actually, yes.” It surprised him that it wasn’t a lie.
Ivan looked just as surprised. He’d teased Kieran more than once about leaving his social life in Seattle and the boring doppelgänger who had landed in New Jersey.
“Boston flew in this morning. Louis Kessler wants to grab a bite. Says he has something to pick my brain about.”
Honestly, Kieran had no clue what kind of wisdom the cocky twenty-one-year-old expected from him. It probably had something to do with all the time he’d been racking up in the penalty box lately. Kessler was making a name for himself as an enforcer. Sure, every team needed a guy who could throw down, but Boston already had one. Louis was way too talented to waste his career in the penalty box.
“Kid’s a live wire.”
“Kid’s gonna get his ass traded if he’s not careful.”
Ivan hummed and clapped Kieran on the back. “Have fun.”
Louis was already at the restaurant when Kieran arrived. He sat in a corner booth, staring at the menu like it was written in a foreign language, nursing a pint of something horrifically orange. He looked young. Kieran had thought so at the community center, and again when they’d played Boston earlier this season. Both times, Louis had seemed bulkier in his pads. Now, in an oversized t-shirt and jeans, clean-shaven and baby-faced, he looked small.
It didn’t add up that this lanky, barely-adult was making a name as a quick-tempered, rough-playing defenseman. Kieran knew what trying to prove yourself, at such a young age, was like. It was a shame Louis was going about it all wrong.
