Hot Off the Ice Boxed Set: Books 1-3

by A. E. Wasp

  Hooking a finger under the chain, he pulled the necklace out from beneath Robbie’s T-shirt. He gently cradled the medallion as he bent down to examine it.

  Robbie smelled Paul’s shampoo and felt his breath on his neck. If he gloated, Robbie was going to punch him.

  “I can’t believe you kept this,” Paul said quietly. “I thought for sure you were gonna throw it on the ground and then back up over it.”

  “I almost did,” he admitted. His forehead brushed Paul’s as he looked down at the necklace. They were almost exactly the same height.

  Paul inhaled sharply through his nose at the touch, and he rocked his head briefly against Robbie’s. Wrapping his fingers around Paul’s, Robbie tilted Paul’s hands so he could see the now-familiar image of Saint Sebastian.

  “Why didn’t you?” He sounded a little breathless.

  The way Robbie was running his thumb across the pulse point on his wrist may have had something to do with Paul’s breathing troubles as well as with the reason Robbie had kept the necklace.

  Why? Who knew? Why did Robbie do any of what he did when he was around Paul? Like taking a near-stranger to his home, like kissing him last night, like the way he couldn’t stop touching him.

  The adrenaline from the beautiful play they had worked together on the ice simmered in his veins, urging him to fight or fuck. Again, the same way he always felt around Paul.

  “I was going to give it back,” he finally said. “When I saw you next, but we didn’t play you guys again that year.”

  “And then you were gone,” Paul said.

  “And then I was gone.” They were standing so close to each other, so still. Somebody was sure to notice any second. “Do you want it back now?”

  Paul let the necklace drop back to Robbie’s chest. He smoothed his hand over it, keeping it on Robbie for the space of a few heartbeats. “Nah. I like knowing you’re wearing it.” He slid his hand up until his finger brushed lightly against Robbie’s neck and Robbie’s body came down firmly on the side of fucking.

  “What are you doing?” he whispered, aware of the other people around them.

  Paul shook his head. Ghosting his thumb across Robbie’s jaw line, he took a step back and shoved his hands deep into his pockets. He shook his head again. “I don’t know what you do to me. I can’t hardly think straight around you.”

  A snorted laugh forced its way out of Robbie’s mouth. “No shit,” he said.

  Hurt flashed across Paul’s face then he quickly realized what he had said, and he blushed. His fair skin turned bright pink, and Robbie could feel the heat coming off of it.

  He wondered if Paul’s ass would get all pink and hot with a few well-placed slaps.

  Okay. That was officially enough of that. With a deep breath, he stepped back, turning to his locker to pull out his dress shirt. “We’re going to be late for the bus,” he said with a mental shake.

  “Yeah,” Paul answered. “How long is the flight to Chicago?”

  “’Bout three and a half hours.”

  “Damn. Going to be a long night,” Paul said. “Guess I’ll just go get my stuff.”

  “It’s probably already loaded,” Robbie said slipping into his jacket.

  “Oh, yeah,” Paul said, brightening. “The big leagues.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I still can’t believe it, you know?”

  Robbie looked around at the fancy dressing room, at the locker with his name on it, and the trophies and photos lining the walls. “Me neither.”

  He almost couldn’t take the look on Paul’s face, the awe and excitement in his bright blue eyes. The slate blue suit he wore fit him like a glove, emphasizing the spread of his shoulders and his narrow hips.

  Fuck. Why couldn’t he just be ugly?

  “Let’s go,” Robbie said gruffly.

  They walked in silence, Robbie cataloging the vast number of reasons he shouldn’t start anything with Paul, starting with him being so deep in the closet he’d need a map to get out, and ending with the effect on the team.

  His resolve held strong until Paul sat down next to him on the bus and slid his hand up Robbie’s thigh, and Robbie didn’t stop him.

  God damn it, it was going to be a long night.

  12

  Paul

  Flying with the big boys was nothing like Paul had experienced before, even on that one flight where he’d been bumped up to business class.

  For one thing, the Thunder had a private room with their own security screening and a nice spread of food. Paul grazed as he waited for the security screening to be finished. Looking out the window, he saw their equipment manager and his staff supervising the loading of the chartered jet.

  He felt Robbie walk up next to him. “Those guys work hard,” Robbie said in his ear.

  “That’s what I was just thinking. It feels weird to be just watching. I feel like I should be out there helping instead of inside eating tiny pastries.” The vague guilt didn’t stop him from putting another delicious morsel into his mouth.

  Robbie moved in closer to him, ostensibly to get a better look out the window, but with the added bonus of pressing his body against Paul’s.

  They were almost the same height, Paul maybe an inch taller, but Robbie was beefier, his muscles more rounded and fuller than Paul’s long, lean muscles. As good as he looked in a suit, he looked even more amazing naked. Naked, he was all strong dips and curves.

  Heat rose in Paul’s face at the thought of Robbie naked. He could see their faces reflected in the night-darkened glass. Their eyes were locked on each other, and Paul felt as if his desire was being broadcast for anyone to see.

  How could they miss it? The electricity between them felt so strong it should be visible.

  What the hell was he doing? He couldn’t be with Robbie the way he wanted to. He shouldn’t. All these years, he’d managed to deny himself. He’d been able to resist just about any guy. Now, after two days with Robbie, all his self-control was out the window. All he could think about was that one night they’d had together.

  He’d been sure it hadn’t meant anything special to Robbie. After all, it hadn’t been his first time with a guy. But Robbie had kept the necklace, damn it. Kept it and was wearing it. Just knowing it was there under that freaking suit was driving Paul crazy. He wanted to rip Robbie’s clothes off.

  His brain was buzzing with the excitement of the game, lack of sleep, and the incredible feel of Robbie’s hard thigh under his hand.

  He’d kept his hand on Robbie’s thigh the whole bus trip. At one point, he’d slid it up just a little further. Robbie had exhaled harshly through his nose, and Paul felt his erection pushing against his hand.

  Giving up on pretending to be asleep, Robbie glared at Paul and adjusted himself so his erection no longer stretched down his thigh. But he didn’t tell Paul to stop, and he didn’t move away.

  Paul had a feeling neither one of them knew what they were doing. Robbie studied Paul’s face in the reflection.

  Giving Paul a hearty bro-slap on his shoulder, Robbie flashed a big smile that felt a little forced. “C’mon, Dyson. Let’s get you on that plane. Ready for your first big boy plane ride?”

  We good? Robbie signed, hands held low.

  Paul nodded, then punched him in the shoulder. “Yeah. You can show me how they buckle you into your booster seat, shorty.”

  The plane had plenty of room. All the seats were the nice reclining kind Paul had only ever passed by on his way to the back of the plane.

  Paul noticed some guys sitting next to each other, some guys sitting alone. They obviously had favorite seats, so Paul waited for everyone to sit before he looked for an empty spot. He took off his suit jacket and his tie as he waited. A lot of guys complained about having to dress up to go back and forth from the rink, but Paul liked the way he looked in his suit.

  “Hey, rookie. You can go sit with the flight attendant,” one of the guys joked. “Maybe you can help her out.”

  Robbie sat by himself in
a window seat. The two seats across the aisle from him were also empty.

  Paul hesitated, and when Robbie didn’t say anything, he took one of the two seats across the aisle.

  As the plane rumbled across the tarmac, the exhaustion of the past three days and the reality of how his life had changed caught up with him.

  Unbuckling his belt and kicking off his shoes, he reclined the seat as soon as he was allowed. Tucking the complimentary blanket over himself and burrowing against the surprisingly comfortable pillow, he decided he could get used to traveling in style.

  He was asleep almost before the thought crossed his mind.

  The smell of steak and the growling of his stomach woke him up. The flight attendant wheeled a cart down the aisle trailing delicious scents in her wake.

  Paul perked up, peeking over the top of the seat to see how close he was to getting some food.

  A laugh from across the aisle got his attention. He turned to see Robbie watching him.

  “Have a nice sleep?”

  “Oh, yeah. How long was I out?”

  “About two hours, I think. I fell asleep, too.”

  It was about one a.m. Seattle time. It felt like a strange time to be eating a second dinner, but Paul was starving.

  “Want to watch a movie while we eat?” Robbie asked to Paul’s surprise.

  “Um, sure.” He pressed the button to slide his seat upright again, then hesitated. “Do you want me to…” he motioned towards Robbie’s row.

  Robbie slid his laptop off the empty seat and gestured for Paul to come on over.

  “So how do you like the travel so far?” Robbie asked as Paul sat.

  “Beats flying coach on Delta, that’s for sure. I could get used to it. Actually, I think I’m used to it already. It’s worth having to wear a suit.”

  “Wait until you see the hotel.”

  A handsome woman in a blue suit with the airline logo embroidered discreetly on her lapel stopped next to them. “Hi, Robbie,” she said, reaching across Paul to hand Robbie his dinner.

  “Hey, Sarah.” Robbie took the tray from her. “How’re the girls?”

  “They’re awesome,” Sarah said with a smile that crinkled the laugh lines around her gray eyes. “Maya is home from college already for winter break. Zoe gets in next week.”

  “You have two college-aged kids?” Paul blurted out. He slapped a hand over his mouth. “Sorry, ma’am,” he said from behind his hand. “I didn’t mean to be rude. I just meant you look too young for…not that I’m implying you were like a teen mom or anything…sorry, ma’am.” He knew his face must be bright red.

  Robbie laughed out loud.

  Sarah leaned a hand on the back of his chair. “You must be Paul Dyson, the new defenseman.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Paul forced himself to make eye contact. Sarah was still smiling, so he figured she wasn’t going to throw his meal out or anything.

  “Well, it’s lovely to meet you, Mr. Dyson.”

  “Oh, no,” Paul groaned. “Please don’t call me that. It always makes me feel like I’m in trouble. Nothing good ever follows ‘Mr. Dyson.’ It’s always ‘Mr. Dyson, the coach would like to see you in his office.’ Or ‘Mr. Dyson, see me after class to discuss your performance on this last test.’ Never good, ma’am.”

  Sarah laughed kindly, patting Paul on the shoulder. “Okay, Paul. How about I won’t call you Mr. Dyson, and you stop calling me ma’am. Makes me feel about a hundred years old.”

  Paul was shaking his head before she even finished speaking.

  “He’s just a little ole country boy from Alabama,” Robbie explained putting on a fake Southern accent. “I don’t think he’s capable of stopping.”

  Paul leaned back as Sarah placed his meal on his tray. “I could call you Miss Sarah,” he suggested.

  With a wicked gleam in her eye, Sarah put a hand on her hip and gave Paul a solid look. “Maybe one day, honey, but not on the first date.” Winking, she rolled her cart away.

  Paul turned to Robbie wide-eyed. Robbie’s laughter was barely smothered by the hands he had clamped over his mouth. He snorted at the look on Paul’s face.

  “Did she just…?” Paul asked.

  Robbie nodded, face turning red with suppressed laughter.

  Paul craned his neck to look down the aisle where Sarah was distributing meals and chatting with the other players. Shaking his head, he turned to his food. “Definitely not like college,” he muttered.

  Robbie laughed at him again, then turned on the television in front of him and flipped through the choices. “Rick and Morty or Game of Thrones?” he asked.

  “Rick and Morty,” Paul answered, pulling up the show on his screen as well.

  They each watched with one earphone in so they could hear each other talk. It was nice, Paul realized. Like they were almost friends.

  Paul kept his eyes down when Sarah came to collect the trays. “You okay, boys? You want any coffee or dessert?”

  “No, thank you, Sarah,” Robbie answered.

  Sarah looked down at Paul. “And how about you, country boy? Looking for something sweet? Maybe a little spicy?”

  Paul choked on an answer and blushed to the roots of his hair.

  Robbie burst out laughing.

  “Maybe a little of both?” she suggested, leaning a hip against his chair, and running a finger down his arm.

  Paul looked helplessly from Sarah to Robbie and back. “I’m…I…” he stuttered. Normally he handled this kind of thing better, but he so hadn’t expected it.

  Paul heard some of the guys laughing from somewhere up the aisle. Sarah joined in, and now Paul really didn’t know what to do.

  “You harassing that poor woman, Dyson?” Jake yelled from his seat. “Are we gonna have to have another sexual harassment seminar?”

  “No!” He held his hands up as if to prove he wasn’t touching her at all.

  Sarah shook her head and smiled sweetly at Paul. Her body language changed instantly from seductive to protective. She patted Paul on the head. “I can tell you’re a good boy, honey. It’s just a little fun with the rookie.”

  She turned toward the front of the plane and put her hands on her hips. “Okay, you animals have had your fun. You be nice to this boy now or no dessert for any of you.”

  “Yes, ma’am, Sarah, ma’am,” Jake answered. “We won’t pick on him too much more.”

  “We can still a little, right?” Lipe asked.

  Sarah looked back at Paul considering. “Just a bit,” she answered. “He’s awfully cute when he blushes.”

  Paul wasn’t sure he had stopped blushing by the time she was halfway down the aisle.

  When he turned back, Robbie was looking at him with an amused smirk. “She’s right, you know,” he said.

  “What?” Paul asked.

  “You are cute when you blush.” He nudged Paul’s knee with his.

  Paul blushed again and dropped his head in his hands. He wished he could control his face better. Sometimes being a blue-eyed blond sucked.

  Robbie patted him on his back. “You want to go back to sleep?”

  “No,” Paul said with a glower towards the front of the plane. “I don’t trust those guys not to draw dicks on my face when I’m asleep.”

  Robbie reached down to pull his laptop out of his bag. “I can’t say that hasn’t happened.” He flipped open the computer. “You can stay here and help me with my notes.” He plugged in a gaming headset complete with a microphone into the laptop.

  “What notes?”

  Paul listened, growing more impressed every second, as Robbie told him about the extensive notes he kept about each game.

  Robbie kept his voice low as people around them slipped back into sleep. “So first, I have goals for each game, right? Like points or some kind of improvement in a skill. And I record how I did with that.” He pressed a button and spoke into the microphone almost too low for Paul to hear.

  Paul was surprised to see the words appearing on the screen a
lmost as quickly as Robbie spoke, complete with punctuation. “Oh, cool. That helps you write?”

  Robbie nodded. “Then I keep track of all kinds of things. What worked, what didn’t. What I was feeling before, during, and after the game. What my routine was. And I keep notes on strengths and weaknesses of all the other players.”

  “Holy crap,” Paul said. “That’s amazing. I mean, I know writing isn’t your favorite thing. This is a lot of work.”

  Robbie shrugged and opened up a new document. “They pay us a ridiculous amount of money to play this game. Least I can do is make sure I’m working for it.”

  Paul thought about the sixteen long years of hard work they’d put in to get this far; the grueling schedule of practice, workouts, travel, games, and public appearances he’d been handed; about how much bodily injury he’d already sustained and how short a pro sports career could be. As far as he was concerned, everybody on the team was working hard for their money. He kept the thought to himself though.

  “What’s your email?” Robbie asked him. “I have some notes on the Habs you should look at before the game tomorrow. We can have some ideas ready for Coach in the morning.”

  “Thanks. That would be great.” Paul read over Robbie’s shoulder as he spoke softly into the microphone. Robbie’s notes were thorough and insightful and made Paul realize he was going to have to seriously up his game to keep up at this level.

  The soft sound of Robbie’s voice lulled into a half-sleep. He started when Robbie closed the lid of the laptop. “Sorry,” he said.

  “For what?”

  “Falling asleep,” he said, though even he wasn’t sure why he was apologizing for that. “Guess I’ll go back to my seat.” He pushed up from the chair.

  Robbie put a hand on his arm. “Stay.”

  Paul tried to read Robbie’s expression in the dim nighttime lighting. “Yeah? You sure?”

  Robbie nodded. We need to talk, he signed. Later. He pulled up the armrest between their seats.