Page 91 of The Trade Deadline
He didn’t want to think about why he enjoyed watching that moment or the thrill it gave him to make it happen.
“Come for me, baby,” he coaxed. His thighs burned and pleasure coiled in his gut, ready to spring. He curled over Lars and kissed over the planes of his back. “Please.”
Lars whimpered and nodded, beyond words.Ryan could feel it when he did come, his ass tightening even more around his dick and beautiful noises filling the room. He tensed and then went completely lax against the bed, giving Ryan free rein to finish however he’d like.
He pulled out and tossed aside the condom so he could jerk himself off. His eyes roamed Lars’s naked body, from his sculpted legs and firm ass—his hole lube-slick—up to his torso flexing with heavy breaths, and finally to the messy blond hair that really needed a trim.
“Beautiful,” he whispered—hopefully too softly to be heard—and came in long spurts across Lars’s back. He watched as each streak left a mark, a claim that he’d remember the next time he jerked off.
Ryan really wanted to collapse onto Lars and sleep, but they’d made a mess and no amount of fatigue was worth sleeping in dry come. Lars barely moved, so Ryan took over cleaning up and replacing the dirty covers. Finally, he was rewarded with a warm spot under the thick down blanket, curled around Lars.
“Jag är kär i dig.” Lars didn’t often use Swedish after he’d come, and rarely sounded so soft when he did.
“What’s that?” Ryan asked around a yawn. He could sleep for a week.
“Nothing,” Lars mumbled. He sounded just as tired, fucked out and loopy. “It’s not important. Go to sleep,käraste.”
“ ‘kay.” Then he did, dreaming of rolling hills covered in wheat the color of Lars’s hair, cool lakes the color of his eyes, and a home made among them.
Chapter27
Lars
Lars waitedfor his turn to get on the team bus. They’d arrived in New York and were heading to the hotel before a team dinner. Usually when teams traveled, they were expected to dress up. The Prowlers had been particularly strict, requiring suits and going so far as to schedule appointments with a local tailor for rookies and new players whose wardrobes were found lacking. The Crabs were a lot more lax. Khakis and button-downs were acceptable, though suits were preferred, and if they had a departure or arrival past 2 a.m., the team turned a blind eye to more casual clothes.
The simple joy of flying while wearing sweatpants was one he’d never truly experienced before this season.
No such luck today. With their current 3 p.m. arrival in New York to play the Rough Riders, there’d been no such leeway, which meant Lars was currently pulling at the neck of a shirt he’d already unbuttoned as low as he dared and wiggling in a blazer that he maybe hadn’t worn in years and that strained uncomfortably against his biceps whenever he moved. No matter how many years he spent in the NHL, he was too used to sports apparel to ever feel completely himself when “dressed up.”
He was near the end of the line and tapped his foot impatiently. Ryan had long ago disappeared into the bus, but Lars had made a detour to the bathroom on the way out of the airport and was paying for it now. What if someone sat next to Ryan? Would Ryan save the seat for him or think it best to downplay things and take advantage of the opportunity? Oh no, what if heinvitedsomeone to sit next to him for that reason?
No amount of fidgeting made the line move any faster, though, and he was stuck with his increasingly anxious and outlandish concerns. When he finally got into the bus and had a clear view, he saw with relief that Ryan was in the middle of the bus with an empty window seat waiting.
“Is this seat taken?” Lars asked with a grin.
“Goal scorers only,” Ryan said.
“Do my two yesterday not count?”
Ryan made a show of considering. “Hmm, Isupposethat’ll do.” He moved to make it easier for Lars to wiggle by.
Lars was too happy to get to sit by Ryan to worry about how it looked. Jake usually sat with Pavel, Bergsy with Funk and Johnny. The Ivans were obviously inseparable. The goalies stuck mostly to defense. There were definitely factions and preferred bus/plane buddies, so there was no reason to think anyone cared or even noticed that he and Ryan were glued at the hip. Right?
The real trouble, he thought as he settled in, wasn’t the seats or what other people thought. Lars’s head was in a weird place because of what he’d said to Ryan a few nights ago.
Jag är kär i dig.
I’m falling in love with you.
What a stupid thing to say, tothink. Thank fuck he’d said it in Swedish, where it couldn’t do any damage except to him.
“Hey, everyone!” One of the social media interns stepped onto the bus, her phone up and recording the team. They dutifully waved for the camera with as much enthusiasm as they could muster after a two-hour plane ride.
“Big news! I’m here with the Baltimore Blue Crabs to announce that…” The players took the hint and started banging on the seats in an impromptu drum roll. “...RJ has officially been voted into this year’s All Star competition!”
The bus broke out into applause. Lars took Ryan’s arm and lifted it triumphantly over their heads, shaking it and cheering with everyone else. Jordy appeared from the seat behind them, reaching over to muss Ryan’s hair and then slap him on the shoulder. Ryan sat there dumbfounded as a shy smile slowly formed a dimple at the right side of his mouth. Lars really wanted to kiss that dimple.
“Speech!” Tomas yelled and the rest of the team took it up until Ryan stood up.
