The season was in full swing now, the schedule relentless. It pained me to think about leaving him for the next week. Colorado. Utah. Winnipeg. Three cities in six days and all I wanted was to stay in this bed.
He twitched in his sleep and his arm brushed against the crown of my hard cock. I couldn’t help the whimper that escaped my lips.
He nuzzled into me, slowly starting to stir, making a soft sound that was half sigh, half hum. I could feel his morning wood pressed against my hip, hot even through the thin cotton of his briefs.
“Mm.” His voice was rough with sleep. “Someone’s up.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“Don’t apologize.” His hand slid lower, fingers trailing along the waistband of my underwear. “This is a much better alarm than my phone.”
I groaned as he palmed me through the fabric, my hips rocking up into his touch. His eyes were still bleary, hismovements lazy and unhurried, but it didn’t matter. Everything he did set me on fire.
We moved together slowly, trading kisses and touches, too drowsy for anything acrobatic but too turned on to ignore it. His hand slipped inside my briefs and wrapped around me, stroking in a rhythm that made my toes curl. I returned the favor, swallowing his gasps with my mouth, and we brought each other off like that—tangled together in the early morning light, breathing each other’s air.
After, he pressed a kiss to my jaw and slipped out of bed.
“Shower,” he said. “You smell like sex.”
“Whose fault is that?”
“Yours, for being irresistible.” He stretched, his back arching, completely unselfconscious in his near nakedness. “Go. I’ll make breakfast.”
???
The shower helped clear my head, though the hot water couldn’t quite wash away the ache of knowing I’d be gone by noon.
When I emerged, the apartment smelled like coffee and eggs. Théo was at the stove in his sweats and my Frost hoodie—the gray one with the fraying cuffs—pushing scrambled eggs around a pan. Aspen sat at his feet, tail wagging hopefully.
“No begging,” Théo told him without looking down. “You already had breakfast.”
I leaned against the doorframe and watched them for a moment. Something tightened in my chest.
“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Théo said, still not turning around.
“Maybe I will.”
He snorted and plated the eggs, sliding them across the counter toward me. “Eat. Then pack. I’ll take Aspen out while you get your shit together.”
I packed my suitcase on autopilot, folding shirts and rolling socks while my mind wandered somewhere else entirely.
How long could this last?
I was desperate for it to last. For him to still be here when I got back, curled up on my couch with Aspen, wearing my clothes, filling my apartment with that winter scent. But Théo was skittish. Théo ran. Théo had told me himself—he was a disaster, a trail of broken things in his wake.
Should we talk to Avery?
The thought made my stomach clench. Avery was my teammate. The guy I was supposed to be mentoring—showing him how to carry himself on and off the ice, how to be the kind of player who earned letters on his jersey. And his younger brother was currently walking my dog after spending the night in my bed.
There were half a dozen ways this could blow up in my face.
But was there even anything to tell? We hadn’t defined this. Hadn’t put a label on it. For all I knew, this was purely physical for Théo—a way to scratch an itch, pass the time, distract himself from everything he was running from.
The thought made me feel slightly sick.
I zipped my suitcase with more force than necessary and sat on the edge of the bed, running my hands through my still damp hair.
A week. I’d be gone for a week. Anything could happen in a week. He could change his mind. He could decide this was too complicated. He could disappear back to Toronto without a word.
