Page 7 of Bad Pucking Roommate

“Jessie and I only did it because we started you on this path, and you’re dead set on believing it’s the key to your success.”

“That’s because it is. If it were just blowing my load, I wouldn’t have to jump through all these hoops. But right from the start you were always watching, and somehow that got tied into it all. So yeah, you’redefinitely part of the reason I play like I do. My success aside though, I thought you did it all these years cause you got off on it?” Confusion and guilt temper my fear, making it possible for me to look Charlie in the eye.

The harsh lines on his face seem to soften. “We do. Or we did. And maybe one day in the future we’ll do it again since we both enjoy it, but we want a family more than we want to maintain this kink.”

“You can give it up that easily?” When Charlie’s expression turns incredulous, I rush to clarify. “I’m not saying that to change your mind. It’s a genuine question. We’ve been doing this for nearly a decade. Can you really just turn it off and be…vanilla?”

“I don’t know. And I’d say that’s none of your business, but since you’ve shared our bed, I guess it’s not totally out-of-line to ask. All I can say is we’re both open to trying new things. Maybe you could do the same?”

“You think I haven’t? I triedeverythingmy first year in the league. Mundane stuff like wearing the same socks and kinky stuff with any willing puck bunnies. Nothing worked. With Noah out I tried again, I thought maybe I could bring two women back to the room. I’ve done that before, but…”

“But?”

“That never worked.” I swirl the liquid in my glass. “Unless…”

“Unless what? Spit it out.”

Shit. This is not something I wanted to get into since it’s just a theory, and I’m half convinced it only crossed my mind because of Noah falling for Tripp. Still, I can’t shake it, and if I’m going to admit what I’m starting to suspect, there’s no one I’d rather tell than Charlie.

I swallow back half my drink. “I think it has to be a guy.”

“Who has to be a guy? The third?”

Staring absently at my glass, I nod my head. “Yeah.”

“You’re bi?” Something about Charlie’s voice draws my eyes to his, and I swear I can see the wheels turning in his head, asking himself how many times he jerked it in front of a guy who might’ve been just as interested in him as his wife.

“Don’t worry,” I sigh. “I don’t have a thing for you. And no, I’m not bi. I don’t think so, anyway. I’ve never been attracted to a guy. I just—in my head if a guy’s watching he’s thinking about being inmyposition, whereas a girl watching is thinking about being in thegirl’sposition. I don’t know why that makes a difference, it just…does.”

“So, it’s the other guy envying you that gets you off?” How he got that from my rambling, I’m not entirely sure, but Charlie’s always been good at sorting out what I’m trying to say.

“What else could it be?”

“I don’t know.” Charlie tosses back his drink in one large gulp. “I was never envious of you though, I just liked seeing how much putting on a show for me turned Jessie on.”

“Maybe in my head I assumed it was something else then. All I know is this is the stupidest fucking superstition, and I don’t want it, but I can’t shake it. If I don’t figure something out my career is going to be over.”

“Don’t be so dramatic.”

I can picture Justus saying the same thing, that something good will come from this, but I just don’t see it. I jumped through hoops for years in the name of performing well on the ice. I’ve tried it all, everything from picking up couples in bars to coercing my roommates into thinking it’d be easier to sneak one puck bunny into the room instead of two and we’d take turns, just so I could have the audience I needed.

I hated every minuteof it.Mostly. The orgasms were satisfying of course, but the process of getting them was tedious to the point of absurdity. I just didn’t know what else to do.

Noah had been a godsend. He’s so fucking easygoing and supportive—I almost felt normal even though I know I’m not—and between having him on the road and having Charlie and Jessie at home… Let’s just say for the past several years I’ve been playing the best hockey of my career.

So yeah, knowing thatallthe people who helped—tolerated—my quirks for years won’t be able to do that anymore, especially when history suggests my play suffers when I don’t go through my ridiculous pregame routine… I don’t think I’m overreacting when I say I’m freaking the fuck out.

“Is it dramatic to think the Bulldogs will drop me if I totally flail this season? I’ve only got one year after this left on my contract, and if they think they can get any value for me with a trade they’ll do it.”

“You won’t have any trade value if you flail, so I doubt you have to worry about leaving Denver.” Charlie smirks.

“Very funny.” I swallow the rest of my drink, trying not to wince when the burn is more potent than I expect.

“All kidding aside, you know this is all in your head, right? You were a phenomenonbeforethis ritual existed, not because of it.”

“I’ve been telling myself that same thing for years, trust me. It hasn’t helped.”

“What if you talk to someone? Someone who specializes in, well, whatever this is.”

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