And not just with some imagined man he might meet one day, he realized with a start.
He wanted that with Alexei.
He had the good sense to keep that to himself. Following Alexei into the lift, he ran through the Wild Cats roster in his head and tried to guess if anyone else on their team was gay. Then he looked at Alexei and realized he was the last one who would be able to tell. He hadn’t figured it out about his own best friend.
“Why are you smiling?” Alexei asked.
“Just wishing I had much better gaydar. Mine obviously sucks and now I’m curious.”
Alexei turned his back, but Mike could still see his furious scowl. “You looking for someone to hook up with?”
Mike smirked at the back of his stubborn friend’s head. “No. I’ve got my hands full already.”
Chapter Nine
As soon as the lift shuddered to a stop, Alexei devoted undue attention to getting the doors open, then strode down the hallway to his door. He wasn’t surprised that Mike followed him, he just didn’t know what he was going to do about. He pressed his forehead to the cool steel.
“Go home, Mike.”
Mike jerked back a step and Alexei knew he didn’t want to see the expression on his friend’s face. That was why he made himself look.
It fucking killed him.
His every instinct screamed that he needed to do whatever it took to erase the sadness in those eyes. But he held firm.
Barely.
“We have another game tomorrow and didn’t get a lot of sleep last night. We can talk about this more later.” You know, just as soon as I figure out what the fuck else I can say to convince you it’s a bad idea.
“Did I do something to piss you off?”
“No, you didn’t. It’s not that.” Alexei dropped his bag and leaned back against his door. “Look, Mike, I’m not good at talking about shit like this,” he began, leading with the understatement of the century, “but I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to…do that again. I don’t want to fuck up our friendship.”
“You say that like it’s a forgone conclusion.”
“Isn’t it? Before last night you’d never been with anybody. You’re just figuring shit out.”
“But—”
“Go out. Find a nice man. Find a couple of nice men.” Just saying the words made Alexei feel sick to his stomach.
Mike didn’t look much better. His barely whispered “What?” tore at Alexei.
“Mike, you don’t know what you want. Who you want. Just because I was here, at the right time and the right place, doesn’t mean we’re good together.” The words felt like a lie, but Alexei didn’t back down.
“But—”
“Just think about it, okay?
“Okay,” Mike agreed. He sounded like Alexei had just kicked his puppy.
“Okay, then. Goodnight,” Alexei said quietly, then slipped through his door and shut it resolutely behind him.
Mike flinched at the sound of Alexei’s deadbolt echoing in the hallway.
Wow, that sucked. Being told to go out and find other men was bad enough, but it was more than that. Mike knew Alexei. And while he had no idea what was driving Alexei to push him away, but he could see that Alexei was scared.
Of him.
He turned away walked calmly into his own apartment, not giving into the urge to slam his door with frustration or go back and beat Alexei’s down to demand answers.
It was late and he knew he should go to bed, but now he was restless. Unable to settle. He paced around his apartment, cursing his lack of seating in the kitchen, before deciding it wouldn’t have mattered. He didn’t last five minutes on the couch. Springing up, he went to the living room bookcases and ran a hand over the books.
He was going to need a strategy. A good one. Alexei was nothing if not stubborn, and while Mike was perfectly happy to let him lead the way in the bedroom, there was no way in hell it was going to work that way outside of it.
Mike would win this argument.
He just had to figure out how.
An hour later, long past the time he should have gone to sleep, he was sitting on the floor in his bedroom amidst neatly folded piles of clothes waiting to be tucked back into the dresser. He’d already rearranged his hastily unpacked linen closet.
He froze when he heard a key in his door, his brain’s endless churning finally grinding to a halt.
Alexei appeared in his bedroom doorway, his hands on his hips.
“What are you doing?”
Mike looked around him. “Vacuuming,” he said with a straight face.
Alexei’s frown deepened. Mike relented.
“I’m sorry if I woke you. I didn’t think I was making that much noise.”
“I couldn’t sleep,” Alexei confessed gruffly.
Mike stood and put down the stack of clothes he’d been holding. He knew the moment Alexei noticed he was naked.
Alexei focused on his face again. “You need to get some sleep. We have early practice.”
“Okay.”
Had Alexei really come over here to tuck him in?
No.He hadn’t.
Mike moved slowly, as if afraid he might startle a wild animal into running away, and turned off the bright overhead light. The bedside lamp cast warm shadows over them.
Now what?
“You want to get some sleep?” he asked casually, as if this was completely normal for them.
Alexei nodded once, then he was there, pushing Mike toward the bed. He’d barely dropped onto the mattress before Alexei slid under the covers behind him, all around him, Mike’s bare ass tucked against soft flannel, Alexei’s chest warming his back.
Mike snapped off the bedside light and grinned.
Mike’s alarm went off at some god-awful hour in the morning, making it through four bars of some screechy pop song before Mike slammed his hand on snooze bar, and went right back to sleep.
Alexei buried his face against the back of Mike’s neck and tried to do the same.
He’d slept like a baby once he’d finally given in and come to Mike last night. He’d been listening to the dull thuds coming through the wall from Mike’s bedroom, wide awake, staring at the ceiling, until his curiosity had pulled him from his bed.
And landed him in Mike’s.
Because he was a complete fucking idiot with zero willpower, apparently.
Alexei shifted, trying to ease his dick away from Mike’s delectable ass. That he’d not sprung a woody the minute he’d curled himself around Mike last night was proof enough that he’d been exhausted.
Now, fully rested, he wasn’t nearly so lucky.
As if Mike had heard his thoughts, he rolled onto his back, a little smile on his lips and a tent above his hips.
Alexei’s mouth watered. He peeled the sheet away to see the long, thick length of Mike’s erection standing proud.
Alexei looked up at Mike, his heart doing something funny when he found his friend smiling at him with sleep-clouded eyes and sheet marks on his cheeks. He’d never looked better to Alexei.
Though the smile was a bit too smug for Alexei’s liking. He could fix that easily enough.
He took Mike’s cock deep into his mouth, down his throat, then pulled off again with a huge upward suck.
“Holy fuck!” Mike shouted, his hips coming off the bed.
Alexei smiled as he rolled over Mike’s legs and pinned his hips with his hands. A hundred commands sprang to mind, but he didn’t bother with any of them. Mike didn’t fight his hold. Didn’t grab his head. Didn’t do anything but stare at him with very un-smug wonder.
Alexei took him deep again, his tongue working along the shaft on the way down, his cheeks hollowing as he pulled back off. He wrapped his fingers around the silky shaft and tugged, his lips and hand bumping.
Mike curled his fists into the sheets and held on. God, he was so fucking perfect.
Why couldn’t this work?
Alexei shut his eyes and his mind to the im
possible question, knowing he could find countless answers if he tried, and not wanting any of them at this moment. Instead he focused on Mike, on his taste and texture, on the sounds tearing from his chest and the twitches and shivers Alexei pulled, so easily, so beautifully, from him.
The vein along the bottom of Mike’s shaft throbbed against Alexei’s tongue and he knew Mike wouldn’t last long. Alexei reached down and wrapped a hand around his own cock, pumping furiously, bringing himself to the brink as he dragged Mike there with him.
Shudders racked Mike, his mouth gone slack, his breathing hectic as his shaft swelled against Alexei’s tongue.
Alexei pulled off and ran his tight fist over Mike’s cock in time with his own while crawling up the bed quickly.
Mike sucked in a huge gasp and let it out with a roar.
That did it.
Lightning shot through Alexei as his climax jolted through him. He was barely able to keep working his hand over Mike’s cock as their come mixed, hot against his fingers as it slid down Mike’s shaft and over his balls.
Mike whispered his name with a breathless gasp, his eyes fixed on Alexei’s hands as yet more shudders shook them both.
Alexei knew it was wrong. That he shouldn’t have done this. He should have been consumed by guilt. And regret.
So why the hell did he feel so fucking content?
Mike went into the corner full tilt and slammed Erik Larsson into the boards. He kept his shoulder down, his stick out of the way, and played within the rules while still attempting to break the son of a bitch in two.
The crowd roared their approval, their ire having escalated right alongside Mike’s each time Larsson “accidentally” crashed the net. Twice already tonight.
Players didn’t target goalies. It wasn’t done. Particularly when that player used to be on the same team with the goalie. This team, in this town. But Larsson seemed to be making an exception tonight, and Mike wasn’t going to tolerate it.
Neither were the fans. The officials, on the other hand, seemed not to care at all.
Increasingly outraged and outrageous howls issued from the stands and the bench, but Mike stayed focused on the game, on his job. Shift over, he climbed over the boards and kept his eyes pinned to Alexei. When Larsson dove for the puck and swept Alexei’s legs right out from under him, again, Mike jumped to his feet. Only Garrick’s grip on his arm kept him from charging onto the ice—and being ejected from the game—while Alexei and Larsson exchanged a few words and shoves.
What the fuck was with this guy?
Mike soared over the boards for his next shift, picking up the puck and driving it forward. His pass went wide and he drew back, blocking the next shot on goal with his body before sweeping aside the rebound.
His worked his ass off in front of the net, trying to make Alexei’s job easier and jostling with whoever was at his back. Alexei made a great save and the whistle blew. Mike turned to find himself face-to-face with Larsson.
He bumped his chest into Larsson’s. “Back the fuck off, asshole.”
Larsson shoved him away but held onto his jersey—universal hockey language for “now we’re gonna fight.”
Yee haw.
Mike grinned, his blood surging in a way that no game-time fight had ever done before. Who knew sex would charge him up like this? He wanted to pound this fucker into the ice, then go home and have Alexei pound his ass into the bed.
In fact, Mike thought that just might be his version of a perfect night.
Before either of them could do more than cock back an arm, Alexei and the refs got in the way. Mike tried to get a word in with Alexei, but he was too busy glaring at Larsson.
Mike wanted to wipe the smirk off that asshole’s face with his fist.
It wasn’t until the third period, while Mike was fighting for a puck in front of the net, that Larsson finally sent him over the edge. Larsson crashed into him and they both flew back into Alexei, sending all three of them and the net back to the boards. His legs still tangled with Larsson’s and Alexei’s pads, Mike shook off his gloves and prepared to do what he’d been dying to do for hours.
Punch the fucking jerk right in the face.
Larsson sneered at Alexei. “This your new boyfriend?”
Rage burning in his gut, Mike tackled Larsson, landing on top of him. He grabbed two fistfuls of his jersey, and yanked the douchebag’s shoulders up off the ice, until their helmets cracked together. He could feel Alexei’s restraining grip on his jersey, but he didn’t give a fuck. No one else was close enough to hear him.
He snarled at Larsson. “You bet I am.”
Mike got to enjoy the stunned look on Larsson’s face for all of three seconds before a black and white striped arm hooked around his torso and hauled him away.
Time in the penalty box did nothing to soothe his temper or his libido.
Getting a world-class cold shoulder from Alexei in the locker room after they’d won the game didn’t either.
Mike threw on his street clothes and tore out of the arena, hot on Alexei’s heels. They’d come in together this morning—as usual—and he didn’t think Alexei would strand him here, but he wasn’t going to take any chances.
Alexei’s furious expression made him wonder if he wouldn’t be better off in a taxi anyway.
No. He wasn’t going to let Alexei shut them down before they’d even had a chance to get started. That meant riding this out.
He climbed into the passenger seat and glared at his friend. “You want to tell me what crawled up your butt and died?”
Alexei’s scowl got blacker and he slammed his foot on the gas so hard, Mike’s head bounced off the headrest. He spent the first half of their high-velocity drive home trying to keep his ass in his seat long enough to get his seatbelt on.
Clearly, he needed to rethink his strategy. Maybe he should try a more diplomatic approach? He glanced at Alexei, skipping over his fierce frown and letting his eyes wander south.
Maybe he should offer to give Alexei a blow job?He’d never done that before, but after his experience this morning, he was eager to try it.
And it would cheer Alexei up, right?
His smile must have been as wicked as his thoughts, because Alexei appeared downright alarmed after glancing over at Mike. He drove faster, barely letting the warehouse doors open wide enough to admit the truck before he squealed into their makeshift garage.
Mike hadn’t released his seatbelt before Alexei flew out of the truck and slammed the door behind him.
Mike sighed and chased after him. “Will you slow the fuck down and tell me what’s wrong?”
Alexei stepped into the elevator and yanked down the door. Mike dove in after him.
“Jesus, Alexei. You almost took my head off. What the fuck is your problem?”
“You!” Alexei barked. “You’re my fucking problem.”
Mike swallowed and reminded himself he’d been expecting it. Sort of. It still didn’t feel very good. And the mixed signals, back-and-forth shit was killing him.
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” he said honestly.
Alexei seemed to deflate. “No, I’m sorry.” Alexei rubbed a hand over his shoulder and Mike realized he’d been doing it off and on since they’d left the ice.
“Did that asshole Larsson hurt you?”
Alexei’s hand dropped. “It’s fine. Just a bruise.”
Mike resisted the urge to tug aside Alexei’s collar to look for himself. He watched Alexei as he lifted the massive door to reveal their hallway. He didn’t see any signs of pain.
“Why was that guy all over you?”
Alexei stepped into the hallway. “He’s my ex.”
Mike’s brain stuttered. “What?”
“Stupid fucker ended it years ago, then tried to come back a few months ago and I said no. At our last game he actually tried to flirt with me on the ice, and I made it very clear what I thought of that shit. Guess he’s not too happy about it.”
“Wait. How long did
you two date?” Mike asked while he dogged Alexei’s heels to his apartment door.
Alexei stopped and Mike was alarmed to see his shoulders slump. “Almost two years.”
Another brain stutter. “Two years?” Shit, why was his voice so high?
“Yeah.”
“What happened?” Mike asked with a mix of curiosity and dread.
“He got traded.”
“So?”
Alexei stopped looking at something over Mike’s shoulder and met his eyes. “He figured that meant it was over.”
And you didn’t.
“Did you love him?” Mike asked quietly.
“I thought it was going that way,” Alexei answered, and for a moment his eyes narrowed on Mike before he looked away again. “Turns out it wasn’t.”
Two years seemed like an awful long time to Mike for two people to still be thinking about being in love. Mike had only had sex with Alexei two days ago, and already he was—well, he was feeling pretty strongly about the guy.
But he supposed the different timetables didn’t really matter. What mattered was that Larsson had hurt Alexei. Mike regretted, more than ever, not knocking out a few of the bastard’s teeth.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“For what?”
“That he ended up being an asshole.”
“Eh. In hindsight I can admit he kind of started that way, too.”
“I’m also sorry he convinced you that dating another player was a bad idea.”
Alexei sighed. “Actually, I knew that before I dated Erik. He just added more proof.”
“I wouldn’t leave.”
“What?”
“If I was dating someone, if I loved him, I wouldn’t end the relationship just because I got traded away.”
Alexei’s expression stayed perfectly neutral. “Good to know.”
“Yeah, well, I just thought I’d mention it.” And, you know, way overplay my hand.
Time to change the subject. Though he did have one more related question.
“Do you have a lot of exes?” he asked as casually as he could manage. It wasn’t easy when he was still plotting when he could go out and run over Larsson with his fucking car.
Crashing the Net Page 8
