Page 31 of Love of the Game
Yeah, I figured he wouldn’t let that slide. I met his gaze. “You’re one of the most stunning people I’ve ever met. And you’re nice. Why aren’t you married to some… amazing person who’ll love and cherish you?”
A whole parade of emotions marched across his face. “Uh. Wow.” Then he scratched the back of his head. “Well, first, I think you’re overestimating me quite a bit. I mean, I know I’m attractive, but there are tons of better-looking guys out there. I do try to be nice, but I can be crotchety and annoying—ask any of the guys in the room. I can be an absolute pain in the ass.” He shook his head. “I’ve got a pile of flaws.” The rapid fire of words fell away. He smoothed his hands over the bed’s comforter. “And second—my life is basically hockey and running the bar. Most amazing people want time with you, you know? When it was just hockey—well, the right person never came around, and the bar did, and people needed a safe place so…” He trailed off. “I’m rambling. It’s late.”
He’d twisted the comforter in his hands. “I did just meet an amazing person.” Jon raised his gaze to mine again. “But we haven’t been on a date yet, so?—”
My heart melted right fucking there. “I’ve been nothing but a grouchy pain in the ass. Hardly amazing.”
That smile of his ticked up. “Well, you weren’t exactly apainin my ass tonight…”
Oh my God. I dropped my head into my hand and giggled. “I’m too tired for this.” But I beamed at him. “So no date yet, but dating?”
“If you want, yes. I mean—yes. Let’s try it?” He paused. “You can change your mind in the morning if you wake up and realize the sex and me aren’t that?—”
I leaned over Loki, caught the back of Jon’s neck, and pulled him into a kiss. When I relented, he was breathy and speechless. “You’re amazing. I’m not going to change my mind. We should sleep.”
Loki chirped and looked particularly peeved, even for a Maine coon.
“Sleep,” he said. “Probably a good idea.”
He turned off the light, and we settled in under the covers, Loki between us.
I shouldn’t be in love. This was too soon to be in love. We hadn’t known each other all that long. But goddamn, this man. This damn man. He was everything.
CHAPTER 8
JON
I woke to Drake asleep next to me and had to stop myself from giggling like a fool. Felt like I was still dreaming, seeing his mop of curly blond hair and his sweet face pressed into the pillow. I’d have wrapped myself around him, but Loki was stretched out between us, and I wasn’t going to argue with a sleepy twenty-three-pound ball of attitude, so I let Drake be.
Sex last night had been… Well, thinking about it curled my toes and had me on the way to a morning wood. Given Drake’s deep breathing and my beast of a cat occupying the middle of the bed, another round wouldn’t happen for a while, so I sucked in a breath and let my growing arousal subside.
The softness of the light creeping into the room around the edges of the curtains hinted that it was early morning. Well, at least early enough that closing my eyes and falling back to sleep wouldn’t be unusual given how late we’d gotten home and—everything after that.
That was not happening. Brain wouldn’t shut up.
God, Drake had been perfect. Passionate. Thoughtful.Gentle at times, forceful and sharp at others. He’d been a fucking tease, but that had been the best thing. I hadn’t been kept on edge like that, blown like that, or fucked like that— Actually never. Never like that.
I hadn’t bottomed in a while. Hadn’t had penetrative sex, either. Mostly quick hand or blowjobs when I felt the itch to let off some steam. Hell, I hadn’t even had a BJ or hand job in a long time. Fucking around with Adam had been the last real bit of anything I’d done. Flirting? Yeah. A little kissing and fondling? Fine. My “rules” about dating before sex were more about me giving myself an out than anything else. No one had been worth opening myself up to or for until Drake.
I didn’t want to hurt the team. Didn’t want to throw my game off. Was busy enough at the bar. I could list a million excuses as to why I hadn’t dated anyone in five years, but the reality was that who the hell was going to put up with a queer odd duck aging PHL player who was never going to be more than that? I loved my life, but I knew what it was. It wasmine,something I’d built from the ruins of everyone else’s expectations. I didn’t want the burden of living up to anyone’s hopes and dreams.
So I just… stopped looking.
Then Drake walked into my bar, my haven, before he’d even walked into the arena we’d share, and I’d been smitten instantly.
I shouldn’t have been. But there he was, a man with hopes and dreams that mattered, that could be achieved, and I’d wanted to see that bright star shine again. He’d had absolutely no expectations for me—barely had any for himself other than failure. He’d been vulnerable, and truthful, and here we were, in my bed, after he’d fucked me senseless.
Lovers. Teammates.
At least until he scored in a few more games, and the Lions realized he’d gotten his magic back. Then he’d be called up to the NAPH where he belonged.
I sighed and carefully slipped out of bed, grabbed some sweats out of the closet, and headed downstairs. Morose was not where I wanted to be, and I was very close to ending up there. Time for coffee and a lungful of fresh air.
I brewed up a shot of espresso, then took it and myself outside.
The brisk cold early December air chased away the cobwebs and the thoughts of a future without Drake from my mind. Maybe that would come to be—maybe not. No sense in worrying about it now. Today? Today, the day was bright and despite Drake’s very fine work last night, my ass felt fine. A day off with no rain or snow and a bright blue sky? I was getting on my bike.
When I stepped back into the kitchen, a bleary-eyed Drake was at the counter, staring at my espresso machine. “How do you make it work?” There was a plaintive note to the end of that.
