Page 61 of The Last Inch Of Ice
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He slips into Kai’s hotel room two hours after the final buzzer.
They won 3-2 in overtime—Nazar got the game-winner, a snapshot from the slot that went bar-down. The crowd went insane. His teammates mobbed him. It should feel good.
Instead, he’s standing in a hotel hallway at eleven PM, his knuckles hovering over Kai’s door, his heart hammering like he’s about to commit a felony.
The door opens before he can knock. Kai doesn’t say a word, just pushes it wider and steps back, letting him in.
Then they’re on each other.
It’s not gentle. Not careful. Just desperate and hungry, all teeth and hands..
“I have to be at the airport in three hours,” Kai murmurs against his lips, but there’s no actual protest in the words. His hands are already under Nazar’s shirt—those cool, long fingers that know exactly where to touch to make Nazar’s brain short-circuit.
“Yeah, and I have to be there in two hours. That’s a long time,” Nazar says, his own hands mapping the sharp planes of Kai’s hips, fingers digging into the denim.
“Enough time for you to ruin my pre-flight nap and possibly my career,” Kai breathes, his teeth grazing Nazar’s lower lip.
“Your career was a train wreck long before I got here.” He shoves him back against the door.
“At least my train wreck is interesting to watch,” Kai shoots back, shoving him in return.
He can feel Kai’s cock hard against his thigh, can feel his own responding, thick and aching.
This is how it always goes. Frantic rubbing through clothes. Desperate grinding. Never actually fucking. Never crossing that line even though they both want to so badly Nazar can taste it.
It’s his own personal hell.
And tonight, it isn’t enough.
The argument dies on his lips. The raw, desperate need inside him eclipses the anger. His hands find the hem of Kai’s shirt, and he yanks it over his head in one violent motion, tossing it aside. The fight seems to drain out of Kai, replaced by a dark, knowing look in his blue eyes.
He sinks to his knees.
The sight of it—Kai Callahan on his knees, looking up at Nazar like he’s the only thing that matters—always makes something primal surge in Nazar’s chest.
These are power dynamics that probably reveal concerning things about both of them.
Nazar doesn’t care. Can’t care. Not when Kai’s mouth is on him.
Kai’s all eager heat and practiced skill, taking his cock in with a desperation that sends a lightning bolt of possessive pleasure straight to Nazar’s brain. His fingers thread through soft blond hair.
“That’s it,” he says, his voice a low, guttural rasp he barely recognizes. “Just like that. Don’t stop.”
Kai makes a soft, pleading sound around him.
“You like taking it right in the throat, don’t you?” Nazar pants, his hips starting to move, a deep thrust into the heat of Kai’s mouth. He watches the long column of Kai’s throat work as he swallows. “Look at you. Hard just from kneeling there for me, like every fucking time.”
He pulls back for a torturous second. Kai makes a wounded sound of protest, eyes fluttering open—dazed and wanting and completely unguarded.
Nazar traces his swollen lips with his thumb, mesmerized by the sight. “So fucking beautiful.”
When he comes, it’s with a guttural sound he doesn’t recognize as his own. Kai takes it, swallows, looks up at him with an expression that makes Nazar’s chest tight.
Kai gets to his feet with that fluid grace he has—the one that makes him so dangerous on the ice. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, already turning away. Already rebuilding the walls.
Not today.
