Page 7 of Broken Ice, Mended Hearts

“This is wonderful,” Alex said. “My boys, enemies on the ice and friends on dry land. Hanging out will be good for both of you.”

The rest of the evening slipped away in a haze of lively conversation, hockey anecdotes, and shared gossip about another player we all knew. As the visit wound up, a sense of disbelief washed over me. I needed to head back to the hotel, take a cold shower, and go to bed so I could wake up and discover this had all been a bizarre dream.

As it turned out, Gagné was staying at the Park Lane Hotel, down the street from where I was at the Plaza. There was no friendly option but to go back together. We walked side by side but said little. Unable to keep my eyes to myself, I stole repeated sideways glances at Gagné. More than once, I caught him already looking at me. His eyes shone with the same gleam I recalled from our hockey fight, and waves of energy surged back and forth between us.Energy or want?Hell, if the circumstances had been different, we could have been going to the hotel for a hookup.

He flashed a smile as we approached the Plaza. “Why are you staying here instead of at your place?”

“It’s under contract. I’m signing the papers tomorrow.”

He nodded. “Let’s not forget to trade numbers. Alex might be a clumsy matchmaker, but she’s got a point. You can be my wingman.”

I snorted. “Fuck that. You can be mine.”

With yet another crooked smile, he said, “We’ll see.”

After we exchanged contact information, I remained in place while he sauntered down Central Park South. He had one of the sexiest asses I’d ever seen, but I kept reminding myself he wasoff-limits, that nothing good had ever come from embarrassing myself with a straight man. When he was out of sight, I went into the hotel, wondering if he would really text me next weekend.

What the hell am I thinking? My heart still hurts from the breakup with Drake. Getting involved with someone would be asking for more.

Rational thoughts notwithstanding, visions of Gagné’s enticing rear followed me upstairs, an undeniable reminder of my attraction to him. The evening at Alex’s had been surprisingly pleasant, and I enjoyed getting a peek of the real Gagné, which seemed to differ from the tough exterior he exhibited on the ice. Our March fight had been prominent in my mind, yet he hadn’t broached the subject, leaving me to wonder what his thoughts about it were. It hadn’t been long enough for him to forget, but did he remember it the way I did? Had he sensed the same connection I felt, or did he recall it as a peculiar scuffle with someone who wouldn’t fight back?

I’d replayed the encounter in my mind a million times before, but I thought about it again while I brushed my teeth. Sprawled on the ice, with him looking down into my eyes, I’d imagined he was about to kiss me. It wouldn’t have been the first time NHL players had kissed on the ice—Kev Moore and Tyler Jensen had claimed that bit of hockey history—but it would have been the first time a fight transformed into a romantic moment. What if Gagné had done it? The way I’d felt, I’d have certainly kissed him back.

After getting into bed, I forced myself to think about the next day. I needed to go to the Condors’ practice facility to pick up a few things I’d left behind, and then I had to meet with the lawyer who was handling the sale of my co-op. Assuming he gave the all-clear, I’d sign the papers and be rid of my last physical connection to Drake. We’d lived in the four-bedroom penthousefor almost a year. How much of that time had he been screwing other men?

Trying to get those thoughts out of my head took me back to Gagné, which led to fantasies of a love life with an athlete. I’d played hockey since I was four years old, but I’d never dated another jock. Not that I hadn’t ogled a few guys in the showers, but getting involved with a teammate had never seemed like a good idea. Once, when the opportunity had presented itself, I claimed to have a boyfriend in another town. When you fuck someone, things change, and the guy wouldn’t be just a teammate anymore. That could have led to many problems.

Gagné isn’t a teammate at all, so what would be the harm?

Like it’s a possibility? Regardless of how he looked at me when we were cuddling on the ice, the man’s straight. I don’t need rumors circulating about me coming on to a hetero guy.

Straight or not, I couldn’t shake the memory of his smiles, those unreadable twists of his mouth that put his lips front and center, begging to be kissed. Every time I looked away from them, his eyes captured me. Whatever thoughts had been behind those prolonged, penetrating gazes had launched a march of fantasies in my mind.

I moaned and rubbed my hand over my stomach. Who could forget the outline of his cock in his pants? Gagné was hung. I imagined it getting hard, thickening up while the glans became red and precum trickled out of his slit.What would he taste like? What kinds of sounds would he make when he came apart?

Maybe a jerk-off fantasy would get him out of my mind. I inched my hand down my abs and under the waistband of my boxers, wondering if he’d ever let a man play with his dick. He might be surprised by what a guy could do for him. Having the same piece of equipment to work on every day gave a level of expertise that was probably impossible for anyone lacking a penis to achieve.

Wrapping a hand around my cock, I sighed and closed my eyes. After a few squeezes, I pushed my boxers down and kicked them off. Taking myself in hand again, I savored every stroke as I remembered the fight, how hard and heavy Gagné had felt lying on top of me. Visions of his muscles were impossible to ignore, and I imagined us shirtless, skin to skin, moaning our way through a messy kiss.

My balls felt heavy, and a pleasant tingle in my dick ignited a frisson of pleasure that skittered around my body. I jerked faster, groaning when I remembered how I’d pressed against him on the ice, holding him the way I would if we’d been fucking. When our hips swayed, making our cups slide together, his pupils shrank and his lips parted, creating an unmistakable mask of sexual excitement. I’d been sure he was getting as hard as I was. When the officials dragged him off me, the sense of loss was shocking. Would it feel the same when he rolled off me in bed?

“Gagné,” I whispered, jerking hard and fast. “Fuck me, Gagné.”

I came hard, grunting as thick ropes of cum shot across my stomach. Stunned by the depth of my orgasm, I stretched out while I caught my breath. After cleaning off with a towel I’d brought from the bathroom, I turned on my side and wrapped my arms around a pillow. What would it be like to cuddle with Gagné, holding each other until we fell asleep?

Chapter 3

Gags

The weather was swelteringin DC. One of my teammates, Roland Eckhart, once said the humidity felt like getting hit in the face by a hot, wet diaper. It was an apt description, though I wondered how he’d come up with that disturbing imagery. He and his husband, Jack, had a little boy, and I hoped Eckie had never actually experienced a facial collision with a diaper.

With most of my teammates out of town, I spent my days alone, shuttling between the pool outside and the air-conditioned refuge of my entertainment room. A workout with Kev Moore and Tyler Jensen provided a change of pace one day, but aside from that, a trip to the grocery store was my only adventure.

I didn’t hear from Alex because Friedlander was on vacation, and she wanted to begin her negotiations with him instead of the GM. Without that to worry about, the week became a Sven-shaped hamster wheel in my brain. Every time I closed my eyes, he was there—blond hair, neatly trimmed beard, blue eyes sharp enough to carve ice sculptures, and a pouty-lipped smile that could charm a puck into the net. I couldn’t stop wonderingwhere he was and what he was doing—and more importantly, whether he was thinking about me.

My mind’s endless loop, combined with the unsettling feeling of focusing on another man’s thoughts about me, was enough to give me a headache. Until that night at Alex’s, I’d been feeling sorry for myself over the divorce settlement. Now, it was all about Sven and how confused I was.

He was supposed to be back in DC on Friday, and on Thursday afternoon, I sat on the side of the pool, catching my breath after swimming laps. It would be terrific to have someone new to hang out with. A friend who was outside the Barracuda circle would have new things to talk about instead of the same old stories and inside jokes.

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