Page 80 of Man Advantage

Eh, who the fuck cared? I felt it with Trev, and I couldn’t get enough.

At least I didn’t have the boys with me right now. It was again Bryan’s custody week, so they were down in the spouses’ box, and that was fine. I still felt weird as hell whenever I started getting this stupid over their dad while they were sitting right here. And I did feel a bit guilty about keeping our relationship—whatever it was—out of their sight. I understood why we were doing it, and I didn’t want to confuse them or upset them or get their hopes up about something, but I did feel guilty. Did it make sense? Maybe. Maybe not. Or maybe I was just worried about how things would go if and when we finally did tell them.

That was a bridge I’d have to cross eventually, but I was just thankful it wouldn’t be tonight.

The game kicked off, and it was intense right from the get go. After a hard fight to get out of the defensive zone, Trev and his linemates went to the bench while another line came out. Nowthey were headed back out after the fourth line had ground the other players to dust in the offensive zone. Toronto’s guys had been out for about two and a half minutes apiece according to the reader board, and it showed. They were slowing down. Their passes were weaker and less precise.

Exactly the right time for Pittsburgh’s well-rested second line to attack.

And attack, they did. Bells stole the puck away from an exhausted defenseman, and he passed it to Trev, who then sent it flying to Houghtaling. Hoes fired it on goal, and?—

Everyone roared to their feet as the goal light came on. Hoes, Trev, and their teammates celebrated as the exhausted Toronto players trudged back to their own bench.

The camera zeroed in on Trev as he and his teammates slapped Hoes on the back and shoulders, and that huge smile did nothing to calm me down. Trev was sexy no matter what. Exuberant, triumphant Trev? Be still, my heart.

Of course, now Toronto had fresh bodies on the ice, and they didn’t waste any time after the faceoff. One of their centers was a lot smaller than anyone else on the ice, and he whipped in between players like they weren’t even there. He was fucking fast, protecting the puck all the way. A defenseman managed to knock him into the boards and off the puck, but he couldn’t get out of the defensive zone. The next thing I knew, Toronto was doing exactly what Pittsburgh had done: exhausting the opposition in their own end, and once the fatigue started to show, they started peeling off to bring in fresh players. Pittsburgh couldn’t get off the ice, and Toronto’s upper hand was getting stronger and stronger with every pass and with every rested player who hit the ice.

So it wasn’t much of a surprise when they scored. Now the game was tied, 1-1, and Trev’s line headed for their bench.

The camera landed on Trev.

Sweaty, flushed, disheveled, exhausted Trev.

Fucking hell.

I again squirmed in my seat.Wouldhe have anything left after the game? He’d said he would, but after his morning skate, this afternoon’s quickie, and tonight’s intense game, maybe he wouldn’t? Or I could do all the work. Blow him. Get on top and ride him. I just… wanted him. Bad.

When I shifted in my seat for the umpteenth time, my thigh rubbed up against the small plastic bottle in my pocket, and that didn’t help me calm down at all.

Maybe I was being stupidly optimistic, but on the way out to the first game after we’d started sleeping together, I’d slipped the tiny bottle of lube into my pocket, and I’d kept it with me at every game since. I hadn’t needed it yet—so far, we’d always made it home, and Trev’s mouth had always made the need for lube a moot point—but I was seriously keyed up tonight. Screwing around this afternoon had only made me hungrier for him, and from the longing look he’d given me on the way out the door, that feeling was mutual. I hadn’t needed my “just in case” lube yet, but I’d be riding home from the arena with him, and if Trev was as wound up as I was…

Yeah. I might need it.

We’d probably make it home before that became an issue—always did—but hey, no harm in being prepared in case he wanted to spontaneously rail me, right?

I bit my lip and squirmed. Would it be wrong to make a reservation at the hotel across the street from the arena?

Maybe not wrong, but probably not necessary. We had our beds back at the house. Hell, the shower again. The bathroom counter. The living room. The kitchen island. The garage door. Wherever, I was game.

Assuming Trev wasn’t gassed from the game, of course. That happened sometimes.

Eh. I was optimistic, though.

But God help me if this game went into overtime.

CHAPTER 25

TREV

Tonight’s gamewas a tough one. A grind from start to finish. Toronto was always hard to beat, and they were stingy as fuck about goals against; they made us work for every goal we ever scored on them. Hoes scored in the first period, and they’d promptly answered. After that, nobody was scoring despite both goalies getting hammered with shots. Wefinallyslipped another puck past their netminder just before the end of the second period. With ten minutes left in the third, we had a 2-1 lead and Toronto had started to flag a bit. We’d foolishly thought we had the game in the bag, which gave Toronto a chance to tap one in during the last minute of regulation.

Overtime was five minutes of seeing how much our fans’ hearts could handle. Rush after rush, shot after shot, multiple near misses on both sides.

No goals.

The shootout had everyone on pins and needles. My teammates and I sat on the edge of the bench, barely breathing as we watched players on either side take their shots.

Toronto’s third shooter put one in. Lucky me, I was Pittsburgh’s third shooter. I could either score and keep theshootout going, or miss and we’d lose the game. No pressure or anything.

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