I closed my eyes and pressed my forehead against my arm, which was braced on the shower wall. My other was still around my dick, which was still rock-hard, and I just stood there for a long moment, the shower pounding on my back as I shook and tried to catch my breath.
I hadn’t made a sound, had I? Nothing that would carry out of the bathroom to where my roommate might still be awake? It wasn’t like this was the first time I’d beat off on the road, and I was sure Brown and every other roommate I’d ever had had done the same, but it felt different this time. More conspicuous, and more like something that would be mortifying if it got out.
Sighing, I pushed off the wall and faced the spray, letting it rinse away the cum. I was stupid. That was all it was. Nobody—not Brown, not anyone else on this team—was going to catch on that I’d been fantasizing about Vasily with my hand on my dick.
Well, okay, they might. Hoskins had thought we were flirting, and he apparently wasn’t the only one. But as far as Brown knew, I was just grabbing a shower after the long day, same as I usually did.
I was overthinking it and I didn’t even know why. Except I did know why—because they’d all probably think I was batting way out of my league to evenfantasizeabout Vasily Abashev. Hoskins thought Vasily had been flirting with me, but… I mean, if the guy was interested, things would’ve happened differently last summer, right?
As I finished my shower and dried off, I reminded myself Vasily and I had talked that evening through. When he’d balked, it had nothing to do with me. But that didn’t mean he was into me now, or that anything could, would, orshouldhappen between us. I mentally ticked off all the reasons it shouldn’t happen. Teammates.Temporaryteammates. Out of my league.
It was a hot fantasy, but that was all it was. Maybe now that my hard-on had been dealt with, I could get my brain around that idea.
Yeah. About that.
Long after lights out, long after Brown had started snoring quietly in the other bed, my mind was still firmly on Vasily. If I’d been a little less tired, something else would probably be firming up along with it. And hell, that was still a possibility, because fuck me, I could not stop thinking about my linemate.
His smile. His eyes. That gorgeous body. He was such a nice guy, too—chill and sweet, great with the younger players.
And then there was Vasily the hockey player. He was so controlled on the ice—the thought of him losing control in bed was too hot for words. Especially if I could be the one making him lose that control.
I closed my eyes and bit back a groan.
So much for not getting hard again.
Edmonton was not having a good night, and we took full advantage.
Well, “we” meaning the Everett Orcas. Including myself in that was… disingenuous.
By the end of the first period, I was pretty sure I’d set a personal record for turnovers in one game. Probably a record for the whole league. Andthreeof those turnovers had resulted in scoring chances, one of which had become a goal against. I was on a goddamnedroll.
“Wils,” Coach growled as I took my place on the bench. “This isn’t a bakery—let’s go easy on the turnovers, all right?”
“Yeah, Coach. Got it.” My face was on fire, and I tried not to die as my teammates chuckled around me.
Vasily nudged my elbow. “That last one—it wasn’t completely your fault.”
“Not completely,” I muttered. “But I sure didn’t do much to prevent it.”
He didn’t gainsay me. “Eh. Period’s almost over. Second will be better.”
I studied him, wondering where in the world he found that kind of optimism in my play after my abysmal shifts tonight. But then I forgot all about turnovers and hockey and what were we talking about? Because… fuck me. Those were the same eyes I’d seen while I’d been getting off last night.
I cleared my throat and faced the game again, my cheeks even hotter than before.
Vasily leaned in and murmured, “Focus, Wils. We’ve got this.”
Gritting my teeth, I nodded. We, as in the team, had this. We were up 3-1. Me? Playing alongside him when I could still remember how hard I’d come while I’d imagined fucking him? Shit, maybe I should try something dirty and get myself thrown in the box; even handing Edmonton a power play didn’t sound as detrimental as staying on the ice.
Would Coach or Vasily get mad if I asked to be bumped down a line? Maybe give one of the other wingers a shot at playing alongside Vasily? Hell, Coach would probably jump at the chance; I was amazed he didn’t have smoke curling out his ears after my last couple of shifts. Another fuck-up like that and bumping me down a line or two would behisidea.
Luckily, we were near the end of the period, so my line didn’t have to hit the ice again. Now we had an intermission to cool off, hydrate, and—in my case—pull my stupid head out of my ass. Which would’ve been a lot easier had my locker stall been literally anywhere else on the planet thanright beside Vasily’s.
Considering how many people seemed to have clocked that I was into Vasily, couldn’t Coach and the equipment managers pick up on it? Maybe yell at us for distracting the team, separate us, and not let us anywhere near each other until Vasily’s conditioning loan was up? Because that was probably the only way my dumb ass was going to play hockey at a professional level for the foreseeable future.
Fuck. What was wrong with me? It wasn’t like Vasily was the first teammate I’d ever had a crush on. Hell, I’d hooked up with one and dated another during my time in major juniors.
But they weren’t Vasily. They were cute, and we’d had fun together, but Vasily was…
