Thad’s eyes felt heavy and he probably could have fallen asleep like that but the sweat on his skin was beginning to cool and he shivered. He had to imagine it was even worse for Graham with the mess they’d made of his chest and stomach.
Thad heaved himself upright with a groan and glanced over. Graham looked drowsy too, eyes half-lidded and body relaxed.
“Should get up,” Graham slurred.
Thad gave into the impulse to bend down and kiss his cheek. “Nah. You stay here. I’ll get us something to clean up with.”
Graham shot him a sleepy smile, stretching.
That drew Thad’s attention again and although he didn’t have a hope in hell of getting hard again any time soon,thatsight would have done it.
Thad shook his head, staring at Graham’s body marked with his cum. At the sex-rumpled look of him and the contentment in his eyes.
Thadhad done that. “Fuck, you look …”
“Disgusting?” Graham yawned.
“Hot.” But it was more than that. It was more than arousing, it was … special almost, in a way he didn’t quite understand.
He really would love to take a picture, but this moment felt too intimate.
Too personal to even be recorded. It belonged nowhere but in his head, something to hoard and keep forever, along with the other small moments with Graham.
A growing collection of mental photographs in a secret drawer only Thad had the key to.
Thad hastily cleaned himself, then got a warm cloth and carried it into the bedroom. Graham was already lightly dozing and only twitched a little as Thad whispered his name. He didn’t do much more than that when Thad carefully touched his hip, then wiped him clean.
He half-came-to as Thad tugged up his sweats and wrestled the covers out from under him so he could tuck him in. “Thanks,” he slurred.
Thad smiled down at him for a second, aware he was being uncharacteristically sappy but feeling too fond to stop it. He pressed another soft kiss to Graham’s cheek, plugged in his phone, turned out the light, then left.
This time, thankfully he didn’t run into anyone he shouldn’t.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The following evening, Graham followed Connor into the visitors’ locker room in the New York Rockets’ arena after warmups, nodding along as he ranted.
“Fuck! Ihateplaying this team,” Connor grumbled. “Their fans are obnoxious and every fucking time something happens. I am going to spend the whole first period waiting for shit to go sideways.”
“What do you mean?” Graham asked.
Connor pulled off his gloves and tossed them into his stall. “I mean, they have a bunch of assholes on their team and Crawford’salwaysgetting into it with this one fan. The dude must have season tickets or something, because he never misses a game. Hell, I think he’s showed up to a couple in Boston when New York is playing there even. He shouts at Crawford from the penalty box like it’s his fucking job.” Connor’s glowering expression lightened, and he shot Graham a small grin over his shoulder. “To be honest, he’s gotten some good chirps in over the years.”
Graham laughed. “Yeah, I remember hearing Crawford bitch about the guy.”
“That’s because he’s anasshole,” Luke groused as he lumbered past, already stripping off his gear. “And so is Renner.”
Connor rolled his eyes at the mention of the New York player, Mirsad Renner. “Plus, Tanner’s got beef or whatever with Coach Rasmussen’s son. Did you see them going at it across the red line?”
“No,” Graham said, but he’d been focused on his own routines and not close enough to hear what they were saying.
“They were antagonizing each other the whole fucking time.”
“I mean, it’s to our advantage if Tanner makes Leif lose his cool,” Graham pointed out with a shrug. “He’s too fucking good.”
Leif Rasmussen was the son of famed former player Aksel Rasmussen. After Aksel’s retirement, he’d turned to coaching and was now the associate coach for the Harriers.
Leif played for the New York Rockets and was a young up-and-coming superstar.
