Page 12 of Gross Misconduct

“It’s incredible,” I say. “Is this why you bought the building?”

“I wish. Added benefit.” He shuffles closer to me, putting a firmer grip on my back. His warmth sends a bolt of joy through me.

“My girls would love this. Though there’s no way in hell I’m letting them climb a fire escape.” I shouldn’t be bringing up my daughters when I’m on the cusp of a sexy moment. It’s a parent reflex.

“How old are they?” Jack asks.

“Nine and seven. It’s a fun age. They’re obsessed withFrozen. Please tell me you were too old for that movie.”

“I was. I was in high school when it came out.”

That makes me feel a tad better, but I’m still reminded of the giant age gap between us.

“I’m picturing you belting out ‘Don’t Let Go’ with your daughters.”

“‘Let It Go.’ And yes, I have been known to join in a singalong with them. It’s something I never thought I would do. I thought I was going to be a strict dad. Stern. Here to set boundaries and discipline. But nope. I’m a total girl dad. I host tea parties. I can do a mean French braid.”

What the fuck am I doing? Yeah sure, rich hockey player Jack will totally want to have sex with a guy bragging about his French braid skills and epic tea parties. Maybe this is why I haven’t been with any guys. I get right up to the net, and I still miss the shot.

“Are you turned on yet?” I ask, trying to play it off.

“Actually…kinda?” I can’t tell if Jack is being serious or not. But then he skims his thumb down my arm, tangling our fingers together. My heart is ready to leap out of my chest. I breathe in his scent by the lungful yet still want more.

“They must think you’re cool. Dad’s a big, bad hockey player.”

“I don’t talk about it.” I shrug.

“At all?”

“It’s in the past.”

“Do you miss it?” Jack peers straight into my eye. The energy vibing between us is like a truth serum I am powerless against.

“Yeah,” I say, my voice hoarse, like that one word was pulled out of a deep hole. “I think I do. But I can’t play again.”

“Why not? If you love it and you miss it…”

My free hand grazes over my eye patch.

“I don’t know you, Griffin, but I also know you. And your eye is not the reason you’ve avoided the ice.”

Jack smooths a hand over my patch, our fingers touching. It’s the final spark of electricity that throws me over the edge and makes me pull him into my arms for a kiss. I don’t know what comes over me. Nerves. Unrelenting desire. Curiosity. Jack.

He kisses me back, his tongue surprisingly tender, the taste of his drink mixing with his cologne and lingering sweat. Kissing a guy is one million times better than I dreamed, no offense to my ex-wife. I thread my fingers through his hair and pull him even closer until I can feel his erection poke through his jeans.

Jack rubs a hand over my beard, making me growl with want. His hand dips between us, feeling the ridges of my chest. He moans against my lips, giving my bottom lip a bite.

I’m lost in his kiss, in how thick and hot he feels in my arms, when Jack steps back and sinks to his knees.

Whoa.

I may be a total newbie with gay stuff, but this feels fast. Like we leaped over a few steps. Do guys always move this fast? Did I let Jack assume that we were sucking each other off tonight by coming up here? Fuck, am I cocktease? Fuck, is he going to expect me to blow him and am I going to bomb? Is he expecting us to have sex on this rooftop?

Panic overtakes me, leaving me scared shitless. My first guy-on-guy kiss was less than a minute ago. I’m still figuring out how to put on ice skates, and I’m already being drafted into the big leagues.

He begins unbuckling my belt. Then he undoes the top button of my jeans. Alarm bells ring in my ears.

Ever so tenderly, I push Jack’s head away from my crotch. He resists for a second, thinking we’re playing a game, until I zip up my fly. He looks up at me, still on his knees, lust rapidly vanishing from his face, replaced with something much darker.

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