I grab my towel and wrap it around my waist hiding my own erection from sight, not daring to glance sideways. I keep my head down, muscles locked, feet moving too fast over the tile. My chest’s tight, lungs burning.
"See you later, Captain," Logan calls, lazy and unbothered, like I didn’t just flee like a guilty teenager caught in the act. And he wasn’t the one jacking off right next to me.
I don’t answer.
I can’t.
SIX
LOGAN
The rink isquiet in a way it never is during team practices—just the sound of our skates carving into the ice and the occasional thud of the puck against the boards. No shouting, no coach barking plays. Just Todd and me. Alone.
Which is exactly how I like it.
We're in street clothes, just gloves and sticks, no pads. It feels casual on the surface, but the tension is anything but. I flick the puck between my skates and dart past him, laughing when he spins and cuts me off.
“Don’t get cocky, Brooks,” he mutters, breathing hard.
I grin. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Shaw.”
He lunges for the puck, and I pivot sharply, trying to slide around him, but he hooks his stick just enough to throw me off. I slam into the boards—not hard, but enough to feel it. Before I can push off, he’s right there, pinning me with his body, stick trapped between us, breath fanning hot across my cheek.
For a second, we’re frozen like that. Too close. Too aware.
“You done showboating?” he growls.
My lips part, breath coming fast. “You this rough with all your partners?”
His eyes flash, jaw clenching.
There it is, the annoyance I’m starting to crave.
I lean in just enough to taunt him. “If you wanted me against the boards, all you had to do was ask.”
His whole body tenses, like he doesn’t know whether to shove me harder or back off completely. He’s breathing hard, eyes dark in a way that makes my pulse trip.
I don’t move.
Neither does he.
And suddenly, I’m not sure which one of us is going to crack first.
Blood rushes to my dick, and I can see it in his face the second he feels it, because his eyes drop down as if he can see my crotch while pressed against me. They are wide and shocked as he drags them back up to my face. But he doesn’t move back immediately, which is…interesting.
I swipe my tongue over my lower lip, and he tracks the movement. Fuck me. There is something about this guy that does it for me. Always has been, even back in high school.
For a heartbeat, neither of us breathes. The air between us crackles—too close, too charged—and then something flickers across his face. Realization. Panic.
Todd jerks back like he’s been burned, his gloves scraping against the boards as he puts space between us. “We’re done,” he mutters, voice rougher than it should be.
I let out a slow breath, forcing a grin, even though my pulse is still hammering. “Didn’t know we’d started anything.”
He shoots me a look that could cut glass. “Don’t.”
The single word lands harder than a hit on the ice. His chest rises and falls fast, and he won’t quite meet my eyes.
I skate backward a few feet, giving him the distance he clearly needs, but I can’t stop the smile tugging at my mouth. “Relax. It’s called chemistry. We’ve got it on the ice. Don’t freak out about it.”
