Page 25 of Unrivaled

Which wasn’t to say that Grady didn’t have battle wounds. He’d made and taken his share of checks, and his body was pleasantly warm with it. Two of the goals were his, which meant even the resentful dicks on Grady’s team were passing to him in front of the net to get him the hatty, and every guy on Max’s team was up his ass.

Thatmeant Grady was doing his job, so he let it slide off him and kept his head in the game. He had another first date tomorrow, this time with an architect named Chris.

After the last disaster, he’d taken Max’s advice and decided on mini golf.

Speak of the devil—

“Fuck!” Grady’s shoulder crunched against the boards as a familiar body rammed into his side. Served him right for letting himself think about Max for even a second.

“Aw, baby, did you miss me?” He didn’t stop to bat his eyelashes, just gave Grady’s ankles a tap with his stick and left with the puck before Grady could get his feet back under him.

Did Gradymisshim? How could he? He wouldn’t leave Grady the fuck alone.

Grady took off after him down the ice.

He never did finish the hat trick, and the game ended in a tie. Grady did his cooldown and put in an obligatory word with the limited media who cared about a preseason match, then showered and put his headphones in and took his spot on the team bus. There was no point flying to Newark, even in the regular season. It was an hour by bus. They never even stayed overnight.

Coop tapped his thigh when he sat down, and Grady paused his music.

“You all right?” Coop asked. “You checked out in the third.”

Grady bristled with the need to defend himself, but it was true. He hadn’t gone after that hat trick like he could have. “Fine.”

“Mad Max was riding you pretty hard.”

By this point in their friendship, Grady knew that Coop knew exactly how that sounded, and he wasn’t going to rise to the bait. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Uh-huh,” Coop said. “You guys beef at World Cup or what?”

Grady turned to him in disbelief. “Did webeef?” he repeated. “When have wenot‘beefed’?”

Coop raised his hands. “It just seemed intense for a preseason game, that’s all. Like it was personal.”

“It’s always personal with him,” Grady muttered. Which wasn’t fairortrue. Max hadn’t said anything particularly personal, apart from that wholebabything. Grady wasn’t and would never be his baby.

“Okay,” Coop said, backing off. “Sorry if I touched a nerve.”

Sighing, Grady leaned back in his seat. He knew he was being a dick, but he felt unsettled and it made him prickly. “Not your fault. It’s not even about this. It’s just some… stuff. I’m dealing with it.”

Mercifully, Coop let him get away with it.

But his comment brought up a point. What if itwaspersonal? Was Max pissed Grady wasn’t meeting him for sex? How was he supposed to do that? He’d had to get on a bus less than an hour after the game.

And it wasn’t like they’d made each other any promises. Even if they had, Grady would expect Max to break them, just to mess with him.

Maybe that was what Max thought Grady had done.

And okay, that didn’t feelgreat. Grady’s team could beat Max’s without sex mind games. They hadn’t done it tonight, but that didn’t mean anything. Grady wasn’t interested in victories obtained through anything but pure hockey skill. It felt like cheating.

Hewasinterested in having sex with Max again, though. Unfortunately.

Grady was debating whether to offer a rain check as a peace offering—they had another preseason game in Philadelphia next week—when his phone buzzed.

Grady unlocked it to a message from Shithead. Max had entered his contact as MAXIMUM ORGASM followed by multiple eggplant emojis, so Grady didn’t feel the slightest bit of guilt renaming it.

But hedidfeel a jolt of lust when he opened it, because Max had sent him a picture of his come-covered abs.

A second rush went through him when he realized it wasn’t a picture but a video, only about three seconds long, but he could make out the heaving of Max’s stomach and the splatter of the last few drops of come. His dick wasn’t in the shot, but that almost made it filthier.

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