Page 95 of The Locker Room

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stroking of Xander"s strong back.

“I wondered sometimes, where your drive comes, why you press

yourself down the court like you were running from something that was

going to gobble you up, and then—” Something had plopped, hot and

wet, onto Xander"s sweat-cooling shoulders. “Then,” Chris continued,

trying to firm his voice up, “you kept having these dreams, and I realized

you"d always had them. You must have woken up in the dorms with

them and calmed yourself down because I was on the other side of the

room, or next door, or not there.” Another hot, wet plop, and Xander sat

up then and faced Chris, his short, curly blond hair awry and sleep still in

his eyes. Chris shook his head and framed Xander"s face with his hands.

“I will always be here, okay? If I have any choice in the matter at

all, I will always be here.”

And this morning, nearly five years later, he still was.

Xander turned into that strong, sturdy body, bulkier now that he"d

passed twenty-five, but also more finely honed, and started touching the

sleek muscles, the smooth, golden skin.

Well, not goldeneverywhere.They"d both gotten tattoos, heavy

ones, spanning from their necks and over their shoulders and to their

upper biceps. The tats were matching, a series of interconnecting rings,

all done in black, which looked dramatic against Xander"s Slavic-white

skin, and worked into the rings, they"d had the other"s name written in

Cyrillic. Xander didn"t have any particular attachment to the language,

but it blended in so seamlessly with the rest of the tat that not even the

news cameras had picked up on the fact that the two of them had

practically carved marriage vows into their skin and worn them for the

world to see, if only it cared to look.

Chris arched, sleek and powerful as a racehorse under Xander"s

firm and gentle touch, and burrowed deeper into the blankets.

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