Page 105 of Forbidden Hockey
Pulling off his cock, I sit back on my knees and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.
“Good morning,” I whisper, so I don’t wake the birds.
“Oh, it will be. My turn to welcome you home.”
Trav flips me on my back, and his tongue proceeds to do things to my ass I didn’t know were possible. So much for not waking the birds, I scream loud enough to wake up the whole world.
“Ican’t believe you’re here,” he says, reaching across the table to brush a thumb over my cheek. His hand drops back to his fork, and he shovels more eggs into his mouth.
My jaw hurts from sucking his cock, and from smiling. It’s just after eight am, no one else here to barge in or steal our moments. Yeah, it doesn’t feel real yet—the hot coffee in my hand, the mundane clink of cutlery, the way his muscles flex and extend as he slices into his omelet. He never put a shirt on, and I’m not mad about it. I’ve dreamed of being here like this with him for months—just existing in his space with him.
But there’s been something else on my mind. I don’t want to ruin the tranquility or the newness of us blooming right here at this breakfast table, but the dark clouds aren’t just outside the window, they’re darkening inside me, too. My fingers tap the mug as I chew my lip. How do I bring it up?
“Uh-oh, I’m in trouble,” he says.
“Not trouble,” I say, leaning in. I keep my voice even. “But how long are you planning to make me wait?”
His spa day with Maxwell was almost two months ago. I can’t say I’ve been patient, or that the thought of whatever hell Maxwell told Trav hasn’t kept me awake some nights.
“I wish I could tell you to let me take care of it?—”
“Trav.”
He huffs and launches into it.Robin is getting released early.The five words echo in my head, rattling around like loose change. But there’s something else too, something he’s not saying. The pinch of his brows betrays him. Unfortunately for Trav, I know him too fucking well by this point.
“You want to go after him.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’tnotsay it either. Well then, tell me I’m wrong.”
He taps his fingers on the table. “It’s complicated.”
I shake my head. “No. Absolutely fucking not, Trav.” Then I wait. Wait for him to railroad me like I’m a kid.
Trav sets his fork down, picking up his coffee mug, swallowing down hot gulps along with whatever stupid thing he was about to say.
“Not used to that,” he says, running his hands through his hair. I sit back, hardening my body just in case he’s planning on arguing. “Can we talk about it?”
“Talk about what? Seriously, what’s the plan? Maiming? Beating? Murder?” I say, hushing my voice.
“He did things to my son,” Trav says, gritting his teeth. “The world is better without him in it.”
He was left to imagine what those things were—Dash wouldn’t tell him. Honestly? Probably for the best. This is bad enough. But it’s the first time a version of Travis from his past, the one whose rage has real teeth, appears. I’ve only heard stories of this Travis, but now he’s in the room with me.
“And the law?—”
“Fuck the law, Dirk. The law’s releasing him.”
“This is crazy, Trav.”
He doesn’t flinch or blink, sitting there as certain as a stone, like he’s already made peace with what comes next. Maybe he hasn’t done anything like this in a long time—that I know of—but this? This is his way, and I learn something new about myman. He hasn’t spent all this time reforming himself; he’s been practicing restraint. All that menace, all that need for revenge, shakes the cage of Trav’s willpower every damn day, begging to be released.
“Look, nothing’s decided yet. Can we leave it for now?”
I want that more than anything, and I don’t know what else to say about it until I’ve had some time to think. I nod, but words are trapped in my throat. He said it was bad, but this is worse than anything I tossed and turned about.
“This stays between us,” he says. “I’m going to tell Dash about Robin, but now’s not the time.”
