He slows to a stop outside Duncan’s room and turns to me while he waits for Roche to finish up on the table. “You are literally the most ridiculous human.” But he’s smiling. Not with his mouth, but there’s a rare glimmer in those steely brown irises. So, I’ll take it. “It’s not happening again. Despite your obsession with superstitions, it would be the opposite of good for the team. Nice try, though.”
“You think it’s that easy?” I wing a brow. I lean forward and drop my voice. “You think you can resist this?”
He leans forward. “Yes.”
Then he continues by me and walks past a departing Roche into the trainer’s room.
Well, fuck.
I bite my lip, gaze trained on his flexing thighs as he hops onto the table. That’s when the best ideaeverin the history of ideas comes to me… I hurry out of the locker room and head for the skipper’s office.
TWENTY-TWO
JED
The water drumsoff my back and shoulders, steam curling around me, and I just stand there, letting the heat sink into my skin. I roll my shoulder—completely loose now. I had Duncan really work it out. For some reason, even though my arm hasn’t given me any reason to doubt it, my brain won’t quit protecting it, and it’s leaving my trap and rotator cuff tight as hell.
I’m taking my sweet ass time in here because a couple of the guys were trying to rally people to go out and celebrate. I’m assuming Michaels will be one of them, and I don’t need to give him more opportunities to try to convince me we should hook up again. I’m not superstitious. We don’tneedto hook up again to ensure another win. But…nope.Nope. I will stay in this shower as long as I have to because I clearly lost my self-control somewhere atCox and Companylast night.
A cool whoosh of air hits my skin, and I spin around, my feet sliding on the wet tile floor. And there he is. A towel hangs low over his hips as he leans against the frosted glassshower cubicle door, that foolish grin spreading those pink lips wide.
Sunshine.
“What are you doing?” I hiss. My eyes dart around, even though I know that makes no logical sense. It’s not like I can see outside the shower stall into the hall.
Fucking hell. The frosted glass doors are completely opaque, but they don’t go to the floor, anyone could seetwopairs of feet in here. Unless—I grab his arm and drag him into the shower with me, then shove him into the back corner. I’ll just have to hope we’re far enough back that people won’t be able to see unless they literally bend at the waist and look. Which would be weird. No one would do that, right? My heart rate doesn’t seem to agree with me.
His grin widens, and he slides a hand slowly down his smooth chest. I try to look away. I really do. But God, I’m a red-blooded man. Those fingers bump over each one of his defined abs and then dust over the edge of his towel.
“My towel’s getting wet,” he whispers. “Probably should fix that.” He tugs it, and in the next blink, it’s somewhere outside the shower. Where? I don’t know, because now there’s a very naked, very sexy Shane Michaels in front of me. I hate him. I really,reallyhate him. I let out a growl because it’s the only way I can cover the whimper that was seconds from falling from me. Why is he so pretty?
“Shane,” I warn in a low whisper. “You need to get the fuck out of my shower. Right. Now.”
The brat shakes his head.
I let out a slow, controlled breath until the muscles in my face relax. Fine. This is fine. He thinks he can just show up naked, and I won’t be able to resist him? I’m a professional athlete, for fuck’s sake. Control runs in my veins. I spinaway from him and grab the bodywash. Change of plans. I will now be making this the fastest shower of my life. It’ll be like he’s not even here, and then I’ll get the fuck out.
A hand lands on the middle of my back, and I freeze. My body trembles, and my eyes sink shut.Control, Jed. You are in control. But with this man, I’m really afraid I’m not.
That hand slides torturously slow around to my side, then starts to make its descent toward my hip. Toward where my cock is now fully hard and aching. Then his hand stills.
He presses a soft kiss to my deltoid. “Come on, Storm Cloud. Let’s do somewe shouldn’t be doing thisthings.” His nose grazes over my shoulder, and a shaky exhale flees me. “It’s for the game,” he whispers.
How is this happening? We hooked uponce. Fucking once. And it was his first time with a guy. Now he’s in my shower…trying to seduce me? How does he have this endless amount of confidence? How is he not freaking out about being queer? He’s diving headfirst into this, like he seems to do with everything. He gives it his all, determined to succeed. It’s beyond frustrating.
And it’s such a fucking turn on.
I rest my forehead against the cool tile of the shower wall. Water drips from my sodden hair down my face. My mind is having trouble coming up with reasons why I’m supposed to resist this. He’s my teammate. That’s a hugedon’t fucking go there. But is it really so bad if it’s meaningless hookups? It’s not like we’d bedatingteammates. We’d just discreetly bone to help our game. Sex for success. I’d be a fool to resist that.
But there’s one other glaring hold-up whispering through my mind.You’re in the fucking team locker room. It’s onething to hook up behind closed doors. But in the locker room, where anyone could walk in and hear us?
This is a horrible idea.
I spin and push him back into the wall.
So, obviously, we’re doing this.
“Yes. On one condition.” I wing a brow. “You make a sound, this stops.”
