But with his teasing and sly advances, White probably thought he had only one goal in mind.
“It’s not weird, White. We’re us. We watch out for one another. We talk about stupid shit and I make you dinner and you bring me coffee or tea. I wash your clothes, you tape my stick, and on the ice I always know where to find you.” He inhaled as he undid White’s jeans and pushed them down. Focused on what he was saying, rather than the surge of lust that hit him when he glanced down at the bulge in White’s boxers. At least the man wasn’t fucking hard. He was testing his own control enough as it was, thank you very damn much.
“I always know where to find you too, Pisch.” White huffed out a tired laugh when Shawn pushed him back to sit on the edge of the bed. He caught Shawn’s elbow before he could bend down to take off his socks. “You don’t gotta do that.”
“I want to.” Shawn swallowed hard. Hell, if he kept this up, he might as well just kiss White. Stripping him down and tucking him into bed was just as intimate.
Which it hadn’t been before they’d stepped all over those fragile lines in the sand. He almost wished White would go back to insisting he wasn’t into guys. Accepting a straight guy wasn’t into you could be tough, but it happened. Shawn would have gotten over his feelings for White. Found someone else.
A few someones. Uncomplicated, no-hold-barred someones that wouldn’t leave him acting like a desperate, horny asshole.
He’d played with a couple at the club briefly. Showing them how essential oils could be used safely on the sub they shared. The girl was a beautiful, responsive woman, much curvier than the wife, but there was an admiration between them that told him right away both were comfortable in their own bodies, and with one another’s. The husband balanced his affection nicely, and Shawn hadn’t been concerned that he was encouraging a poly relationship that would become toxic.
The wife had sucked his dick to thank him, while her husband gave their sub aftercare, and he’d gotten off, but he had to be honest. He’d have been just as satisfied using his own hand.
Their dynamics didn’t leave much room for him. He’d been a teacher. A prop. If he thought back, the last fulfilling scene he’d done had been with Vanek and Zovko. He didn’t count the ones with White and Sahara. Sahara was an Ice Girl for the team who’d needed temporary care while figuring out her relationship with the team captain, Dominik Mason. She’d been the opening for him to play with White.
Complicated wasn’t satisfying. It was…complicated.
Pulling off White’s socks, Shawn straightened, tugging the covers out from under him, guiding him back to lay on the bed before pulling the blankets over him.
“Thank you, Shaw—Pisch.” White rested his head on his favorite pillow. “I owe you.”
This time, Shawn didn’t hesitate before saying exactly what White needed to hear. “Make sure I don’t get crushed on the ice and we’ll call it even.”
The soft, even breaths told him White had already passed out. He had to force himself to leave the room and head to his own.
He wanted to stay. To climb into bed beside White and hold him. Pretend it wasn’t complicated at all. That this was his best friend and the man he loved and they could figure out the rest tomorrow.
But they couldn’t. Wouldn’t. And he’d decided to keep that particular door shut tight.
For about an hour he laid in his bed, staring at the ceiling, still wide awake, going over all his excuses to stay put. He heard White cursing softly. Crying out.
And he was back in the guest room without wasting a second to decide whether or not it was a good idea.
Kicking off the blankets Shawn had carefully covered him with, White twisted and turned, like he was struggling to free himself from something in his dreams.
His nightmares.
“I’m here! Please don’t go, you don’t know what happens!” He lashed out at his pillow, grabbing for it and knocking it off the bed. “I still need you. You can’t go!”
Shawn wasn’t sure if White was dreaming about Tim Rowe, their coach who’d died in a car crash only a few months back, or his father, who’d died in the mines when White was a kid. Either way, he couldn’t bear to see his man suffer.
He sat on the edge of the bed and took a firm hold of White’s shoulder. “Ian, I’m here. Wake up, kid.”
“Come back!” White let out a low, pain filled growl, like a wolf who’d been shot, desperately trying to crawl to safety. “They’re wrong. You have to stay. We need you.”
‘We’. He’s dreaming of Coach then. Shawn’s throat tightened. The loss of their coach was still a deep wound for him as well. As it was for most of the team. But for White, it was more. Tim had taken the place of his father. For him, it wasn’t a deep cut. It was a vital organ, completely removed. One he had to learn how to live without, no matter how much he needed it.
“Ian—”
“Shawn, don’t get in! I can’t lose you too!”
Damn it! Shawn swallowed, the raw pain in White’s voice tearing into him. He hated the idea of White seeing all those he loved being taken away. He’d hoped to wake the man gently, but fuck that.
He set his hands on White’s shoulders and shook him hard. “Ian, wake up! It’s a nightmare. I’m right here. I’m here with you and we’re both okay.”
White sat up suddenly, wrapping his arms around Shawn and pulling him close. His whole body shook as he inhaled rapidly, like he’d been running for a long time. “Damn it! I’m sorry, I…I’ll let you go in a minute.”
“No rush.” Shawn laughed softly, rubbing White’s back. “You okay?”
“I don’t know. Just stay here. Stay where I can see you. All the time. And if you have to go, stay somewhere safe.”
“You wanna put me in a bubble, Bruiser?”
“Yes!” White pressed his forehead against Shawn’s shoulder. “I know that’s stupid, but let me pretend for a bit. I can’t do this again. If I lost you…”
Shawn didn’t need White to finish. One thing he’d never doubted was that White considered him one of the few important people he’d let in his own personal bubble. Not many of his friends understood how precious their spot was, but Shawn did. White had every reason to believe everything he loved could be taken away.
And maybe Shawn couldn’t promise nothing would ever happen to him. But he would make sure White knew he was here now.
“If I lie down beside you, are you gonna freak?” Shawn asked, lifting the blanket.
White shook his head. “No. Stay. If you leave, I’ll see it all happen again. If I feel you, I’ll know it’s not real.”
Nodding, Shawn lowered to the bed, the weight on his chest lightening as White let him pull him close. All the reasons why this was a bad idea didn’t fucking matter anymore. He’d figure out how to balance their friendship and…whatever else they had going on between them.
Would probably be easier once White got over seeing them as potential relationship material. Shawn had thought his feelings never being returned was tough, but that was nothing compared to seeing everything he’d thought he’d wanted within his grasp and not being able to take it.
He’s yours if you want him, Pischlar.
It wouldn’t last.
Maybe it will.
Shawn pressed his eyes shut tight, grinning as White let out a soft, grunt-snore. He rested his hand on White’s shoulder, loving how damn easy this was. What did they say about better to have loved and lost than—
I already love him. And I always will if things stay exactly the way they are.
Love could be toxic. As easy as holding White was, it was just as easy to see White freaking out if their relationship became public. Lashing out as he had in the past. Turning on Shawn and everyone else who was close to him. Him being a caveman was awesome on the ice, and kinda cute when they hung out, but that unpredictable temper would have most Doms avoiding him.
He wasn’t a sub. Wasn’t even a switch.
Wasn’t the right man to play in
Shawn’s world with him.
That could change, but Shawn didn’t want to change White. Sticking with the status quo was the only way to keep him.
Funny, considering Shawn made it perfectly clear to everyone, including White, that he couldn’t be kept.
Pressing a soft kiss on White’s temple, Shawn relaxed onto his pillow and whispered. “I’m gonna keep you, Bruiser. The only way I know how.”
Chapter 4
Second round of the playoffs. Against the freakin’ Leafs!
Justina Davis’s hands shook as she did up her skates. Every single time she came here, she had to pinch herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. She’d loved the Dartmouth Cobras since day one, and she’d loved hockey her whole life. She’d never really tried to play, she hadn’t been the sporty type as a kid—hell, she’d been a pudgy little thing and getting picked last in gym was bad enough—but her dad watched hockey every night during the season and she loved how passionate he was about the game.
His passion was addictive. He taught her to skate when she was ten, never having had much time before that, but he’d gotten a promotion at his job in the packaging company where he’d worked for years and suddenly had time to spend doing fun stuff with her and her little brother, Chris. Chris had the skills to play the game, but Justina sucked with stickhandling.
One day she saw a special about the Dallas Ice Girls and she’d decided she had to be one of them. Maybe not in Dallas, but she would find a team.
She’d learned to dance, found out she was pretty good at it actually, and then started figure skating. Her mother had been thrilled with how dedicated she was. Often complimented her on how fit she’d gotten. How skinny.
Her mom had been overweight since childhood and suffered depression because of it. Justina thought her mom was beautiful, but it had been drilled into her head that being fat would make her miserable. So her mom’s praise was even more important. Mom was proud of her and knew she’d do great things.
Her mom would be very disappointed if she knew how often Justina compared herself to the other Ice Girls and wondered if…well, if maybe she wasn’t as pretty and fit and wonderful as her mom seemed to think.
Just thinking that way made her feel guilty. So she tried not to.
Which was difficult when some of the other girls whispered about how big she was behind her back. She’d gotten better at ignoring them though. She had friends who reminded her she looked absolutely perfect on the ice.
One of those friends, the Ice Girl’s team captain, Akira, stepped up to her and tipped her chin up with a finger. “Very nice. You’ve gotten really good at putting on all the makeup.”
“Thanks!” Justina smiled, praise from Akira meaning more than she could say. The woman was amazing. With long, rich brown hair that looked black out of the light, her features delicate, small in structure, but everything about her was strong. Not much older than Justina, but she was an Olympic level figure skater. She hadn’t made it that far, but she planned to open her own school one day. Justina hoped she could convince Akira to let her teach there too.
If she ever got up the nerve to ask. She considered Akira a friend, but it wasn’t like they hung out or anything. Or talked on the phone, or…
Stop it. Akira’s busy, and it’s not like you’ve ever called her.
Very true. She’d always been afraid to bother Akira, but Akira was so nice, she probably wouldn’t have minded.
“Everything all right, sweetie?” Akira crouched down in front of her. “If anyone’s giving you a hard time—”
“No, it’s nothing like that!” Justina ducked her head, her face heating. She loved how Akira had stood up for her in the past, but she also knew bullies just got sneaky after they got caught. Even if there was a problem, she wouldn’t go whining to Akira. She’d deal with it herself.
Nothing they said was that bad, anyway. She’d heard worse.
She took a deep breath, knowing she had to say something before Akira started to worry. “I was just thinking…you gave me your number, but, like, is that just for emergencies? Would it be weird if I called to hang out some time?”
Akira grinned and shook her head. “Not at all! Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask you to come do something. Things have been crazy, but maybe we could go out this weekend? I have plans with Jami and Sahara, but you get along with them?”
Justina nodded, excited at the idea of spending time with girls her own age. When she wasn’t here, she was usually at home or at her brother’s hockey practices. Both her parents worked a lot, so she tried to help out by taking care of Chris, which didn’t leave much time for fun.
And her mom was always on her case about having fun. So…
Someone cleared their throat. Sahara, one of the alternate captains, joined them. “Umm…I love the idea of us all hanging out, but we’re going to the club this weekend, Akira.”
“Oh.” Akira frowned. “Damn it, I forgot about that.”
Justina throat tightened. They had plans…should she just laugh it off and tell them they could get together some other time? That would save her pride. She hadn’t been clubbing in awhile, but Sahara, Akira, and Jami—the General Manager’s daughter and one of the backup Ice Girls—were best friends. They probably didn’t want to drag her along on their girl’s night out.
Sahara looked over at Justina thoughtfully, her sleek blonde hair slipping over one shoulder. “Jami did mention bringing her some time though.”
Jami did? She wanted me with them?
“Sahara, that’s a bad idea.” Akira folded her arms over her chest, her forehead creasing slightly as she looked down at Justina. “Sweetie, don’t get me wrong. I’d love to spend some time with you away from all this, but the club is…it’s not the place for you.”
“But I love dancing!” Don’t you sound needy and pathetic.
Sahara ran her hand down Justina’s high ponytail. “Honey, it’s not that kinda club.”
“Then what kind of club is it?” She looked from Sahara to Akira, not sure what to make of them both pressing their lips together, heads titled to one side like they were thinking hard. “Come on, it can’t be that bad?”
Letting out a long sigh, Sahara sat on the bench beside Justina. “It’s not…bad. You know how Akira and I call our boyfriends ‘Master’? And the rumors of some of the players being a bit kinky?”
She didn’t pay much attention to rumors, but she had heard some things. Things that sounded straight out of the movies. Or the romance novels some of the Ice Girls giggled over.
Her face was on fire now because she’d pretty much needed the obvious spelled out for her. “So it’s…it’s that kind of club?”
“Yes.” Sahara’s eyes took on a mischievous glint. “You want to check it out?”
“Sahara!” Akira groaned when a few of the other Ice Girls glanced over, then sat at Justina’s other side and lowered her voice. “I don’t think you’d be comfortable there, Justina. It’s nothing like what you’ve probably read about. Or seen on TV.”
I freakin’ hope not! Justina tugged the edge of her bottom lip with her teeth. “The only thing I’ve really seen is on CSI. And I wasn’t allowed to watch the whole episode. My mom yelled at my dad when she saw the robo-spanker.”
Both Akira and Sahara burst out laughing. Sahara put her arm over Justina’s shoulders. “That’s awesome! We’ve so gotta see if the club can get one of those!”
“That’s a great idea.” Akira’s tone was dry as she glanced over at Sahara. “Maybe Dominik will use you to demonstrate exactly how it works.”
“Umm, how about no.” Sahara’s face turned crimson. “I still can’t believe he made me get up in front of that class, naked, for that demo on sensation play.”
“You loved it!”
“Yes, but it was still humiliating!”
Justina swallowed hard, starting to think Akira was right. She wouldn’t be comfortable there. Being naked in front of anyone was not her idea of a good time.
> The teasing between Akira and Sahara continued until one of the trainers came into the locker room to tell them it was time for the show. Justina trailed a little behind, taking a few seconds to herself at the edge of the ice too cool off and clear her mind. She wanted to ask more about the club, but not here.
The other girls might be totally cool talking about sex and kinkiness where anyone could hear, but just the idea of voicing her questions made it hard to breathe.
Once her skates hit the ice, she stopped thinking about the many things she didn’t know, and let what she had no doubt of take over. The music moved her as she skated away from the semi-circle of girls, the spotlight on her as she spun faster and faster, skidding out to bow her head as the lyrics began.
Unbreakable, by Fireflight, was one of her very favorite songs and she’d pretty much begged the choreographer to let her take one of the solo parts. She never asked for anything, but she’d needed to do this. She knew she’d nail it.
She swayed her body to the rhythm, mirroring the other girls for a few beats before gliding in a wide circle around them, speeding up to take her leap.
A little sound, one she shouldn’t have heard at all between the music and her focus, reached her just as her skates left the ice. Her balance shifted, and rather than lean into the momentum, she prepared for the fall. Her bare thigh hit the ice, and she braced herself with one hand, protecting her face.
The sound came again. A giggle. The concerned murmur of the crowd drowned it out. Justina’s heart pounded as she pushed back up to her feet. The open Zamboni ramp tempted her to race off the ice and out of sight where she could let the tears of humiliation fall freely.
But the music hadn’t stopped.
This was her song.
Finish it, Justina.
As she took long strides, cheers filled the arena. She inhaled. Exhaled. And released into another leap. This time, she soared.
And landed perfectly.
The applause was deafening. Especially considering the stands hadn’t filled up yet. She flashed a little smile at the crowd before joining the group for their finale pre-game song. Centuries, by Fall Out Boy, blared through the arena. The moves to this song were simpler, upbeat, pulling the fans into the excitement. More so since the players hit the ice halfway through.
Line Brawl: The Dartmouth Cobras #8 Page 4
