Page 51 of Reckless On Ice

“Don't you fucking shower,” Ryder barks before I can close the door. My brow scrunches as I turn and give him a perplexed look. What’s his deal now? He continues, “You’re wearing my scent the rest of the night. We’ll shower together when I’m ready for you to get clean.”

This man. I drop my head back and laugh. “You’re a dirty motherfucker. Let me use the bathroom at least, you asshole.”

When I come back out, Ryder is wearing my shirt, and I can't help the smile that takes over my face like the warmth that spreads through my chest. I start to harden for him again as I reach for my sweats, trying in vain to keep my lust in check while seeing him in something of mine.

He points at me. “See, you’re a possessive asshole, too,” he jokes. “You like seeing me in your clothes.”

I can’t argue that. I just shake my head and push him out of my room, trying to hide my grin and the semi in my pants.

He doesn’t hide his smile. Instead, he tucks his nose into thecollar of the shirt and inhales noisily, groaning in pleasure and falling back against me so I have to grip his shoulders to propel him the rest of the way down the hall. “You smell so fucking good. I need a bottle of your cologne to take with me on road trips.”

“You can have anything you want,” I promise, feeling incredibly generous because I have everything I’ve always wanted. The evening doesn’t feel real, but I soak up every moment and commit it to memory.

Twenty-seven

Ryder

Prepping for a game I know Knox will be at gives a new meaning to “on my game.” I want to play well when he’s watching, and the energy I have from the freedom of embracing this side of myself and being with Knox is like rocket fuel. I’m on fire at morning skate, blocking shots and finishing drills like I’m in contention for the All-Star team.

“Looking good, Kingsy,” Cal says as he feeds pucks to the guys to shoot at me. “Stay sharp like this and we’ll have a shutout for Utah tonight.” Hearing the praise from the quiet goalie coach pumps me up even more.

I’m first off the ice and headed for the locker room after practice, anxious to get home and meet Knox after his practice.We had to leave too early this morning to mess around, but I’ll have some time before my pre-game nap, and I know exactly how I want to spend it.

“Hey, Kingsy, how’d things go yesterday? You’re in a much better mood, and you didn’t end up in my guestroom, so I’m going to assume it went well?” Westy asks, filing in behind me as I walk through the tunnel. “What grand gesture did you go with? Flowers? A bunch of signs at his door? A boombox over your head playing Peter Gabriel?”

“Bro, are all the movies you watch from the eighties?” I ask, not about to tell him where I got the name for my goldfish.

“The best ones are,” he says, shrugging. “Seriously, though, everything good?”

I nod and purse my lips in consideration. “Yeah, man, they really are. He’s the best. I don't think anyone else would have forgiven me. I’ll grab the rest of my things this weekend.”

“No rush. I’m happy for you. I hope this means you’ll be less of a dick if you’re getting some regularly and have a nice guy keeping you in check.” He taps his stick against my pads and heads to his stall, laughing.

“I’m not a dick, I’m discerning,” I insist, putting my gear in my stall. “And I know you guys need to be kept on your toes. Knox won’t change that.”

“Ah, but Knox is gonna change up your insides. Careful, he looks like a big boy,” Chad says, passing me and ruffling my hair.

“One, don’t talk about my insides. Two, don't talk about myboyfriend,” I say, stepping on his stick with my skate so it pulls out of his hand and smacks him in the shin.

Damn, I just called Knox my boyfriend, out loud, to a room full of my teammates, and I didn’t even blink. So, that’s what progress feels like?

“You know, you jumped down my throat once when I said you had a boyfriend because you were talking about Knox, and here you are getting all possessive, not wanting us to know he’s packing an anaconda in his football pants, and saying we can't talk about your boyfriend,” Rook says, unlacing his skates across from me. “If there isn’t some injustice in that, I’ll let my dog lick peanut butter off my d—”

“No one wants you to finish that sentence!” Campbell yells, throwing his elbow pad at Rook to stop the stream of words coming from his mouth.

“My kid loves dogs, and I don’t like hearing about bad things happening to them. If I find out you’re abusing yours by making it do horrible things like you’re alluding to, I’ll have it forcibly removed from your ownership,” Monty says, pointing his stick at Rook, his captain's face on.

“It was a joke! You guys are so sensitive. I would never. Indiana Bones lives like a queen,” Rook says, crossing his arms peevishly after tossing Campbell’s pad back to him.

“Indiana Bones?” Magnus asks, his Swedish accent adding a sweet lilt to the words. “Like the movie?”

“That’s Indiana Jones,” Westy explains as he thumbs at Rook. “This guy thought he’d be funny and play off the namefor his dog. It’s actually pretty good.” He shakes his head and snickers, unable to hold back his amusement.

“Not as good as my goldfish, Goldie Spawn,” I say, pulling off my pads, feeling like one-upping them.

“Americans are weird,” Davy says, walking into the showers, butt-ass naked.

“At least we respect our teammates and wear towels in common spaces,” Nico yells, rolling his eyes as he pats my head and passes, wrapped in a towel.

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