(middle finger emoji)
Peyton shook his head as he tossed his phone onto the nightstand. “God, I love this team.”
“Seriously.”
He gently plucked my phone from my hand and put it down next to mine. Then I was in his arms again. “Well, as long as we don’t have to worry about them being mad about practice, I guess we can just chill, can’t we?”
“Chill, eh?” I draped my arms around his neck. “Like, Netflix and chill?”
“Mmhmm. Minus the Netflix.”
We were both laughing as our lipsmet. Then we weren’t laughing anymore, but this was just as good. Better, actually.
Our phones were still buzzing and pinging, vibrating against the top of the nightstand, but we ignored them. The guys were cool with us, and I could catch up on all their chirps later.
There’d been a time when I would’ve been worried about something like that getting out—someone leaking the photo or otherwise outing us—but this was a good group. We could gossip among ourselves and give each other no end of shit, but private lives stayed private.
The team knew. Maybe down the line, we could come out publicly.
That was something to think about later.
In this moment, all I wanted to think about was this beautiful man whose dick was getting hard right alongside mine.
Everything else could wait.
The rest of that day was spent being absolute sloths. We ordered pizza, which we ate in the living room in our shorts while watching New York play St. Louis. A few of our teammates texted us throughout the afternoon and into the evening, mostly razzing us for bailing on practice to bang each other.
We wrapped up the night in the best place in the world—beneath the covers with Peyton’s naked body against mine. No fooling around this time; we’d both stuffed our faces (what could I say, that pizza was amazing)andwe were tired. Plus we were aching all over, and Peyton couldn’t bail on tomorrow’s morning skate.
So, we just curled up in my bed and kissed for a little while. That was almost better than the sex—as much as I loved getting hot and heavy with him, it had been way too long since I’d indulged in a long, languid session of making out without any expectations of more.
God, this was perfect. After months of hell, I was in heaven now, with the brightest glimmer of hope I’d had yet that I might actually heal from everything that had happened.
I drew back a little to gaze at him. How had I landed someone so good in so many ways? Despite me all but handing him a list of reasons to want nothing to do with me, he was looking at me like that—his eyes soft and his lips a little swollen.
And he was, more than anyone else, the reason I was closing in on my return to hockey. How much darker would my world have been if he hadn’t stepped in and dragged me back to the light?
Holy hell, I was the luckiest man alive, in bed with the most amazing human being alive. I’d known that on some level, but something about lying here with him now, gazing into those eyes while I was in his gentle arms, drove it home so hard, every emotion imaginable wanted to come screaming out of me. I’d been sure just a few weeks ago that the best I’d ever feel again was a step above wishing I’d go to sleep and never wake up. Now…
Nowthis. Affection. Warmth. Opening my eyes every morning with something to look forward to. Actual excitement and—despite being sure it would never happen again—happiness.
A subtle furrow appeared between Peyton’s eyebrows. “Hey.” He slid his palm up my chest. “You good?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m…” I had to laugh, because“good”was the understatement of the century. “I’m definitely good.”
A tiny smile tried to come to life, but concern lingered in his eyes.
“I’m good,” I repeated. “Listen, I know I’ve said this before…” I trailed my fingertips down his cheek. “But thanks. For everything. You’re the reason I didn’t have to hit rock bottom before I started pulling myself together.” I swallowed. “I don’t know how bad things would’ve gotten, but I’m seriously grateful for what you did so I didn’t have to find out.”
Something unreadable flickered across Peyton’s face, but it was gone too fast for me to make sense of it. He covered my hand with his and pressed a kiss to my palm. “I’m glad you asked for help when you did.”
“I just asked for a lift home from the club,” I whispered. “You could’ve taken me home, dropped me off, and left, and no one would?—”
He kissed me just hard enough to shut me up. Then he touched his forehead to mine. “There was no way I was ditching you after that. You were obviously in a bad place.” He drew back enough to meet my gaze. “You’d have done the same for anyone else on the team.”
“Maybe. But… I’m glad it was you.” I carded my fingers through his hair. “And that you stuck by me.” I managed a cautious grin, and my heart went wild as I said, “Especially since I had a chance to fall in love with you.”
Peyton’s eyebrows flicked up. “Really?”
