Save of the Game (18 page)

Ethan tried a different tactic as he unzipped Riley’s jeans and tugged them over his lean hips. “What about Zoe?”

“She lives here. Or wait, do you mean would I fuck her?” Riley smiled. “Yeah. The tattoos are hot. And the accent.”

“See. Why’s that okay, but saying you’d fuck Jared Shore isn’t?”

“I thought we were talking about Lane, not Jared.” Riley’s eyebrows raised to his hairline. “Something you want to tell me, Ethan?”

“I think Shore’s hot,” Ethan muttered, blushing. “I just… if I’m gonna like guys, I’m gonna like guys. Like, I’ll be attracted to them. I’m probably not gonna be, like… well, like I said. Riley-sexual.”

“You said
Ethan-
sexual, but I get it. I just don’t get why we’re talking about it right now.” Riley sighed again. “I don’t know why we’re talking at all. Did you miss the part where I told you I wanted you to fuck me?”

“Nope.” Ethan smacked Riley on his stomach and scooted down lower to divest Riley of his jeans. Then he took off his own pants. “I just want to make sure you’re not… y’know.”

Riley pushed up on his elbows again. He was bare-chested and flushed, and there were red marks on his skin from Ethan’s teeth. His cock was hard, heavy, and lying against his stomach. “Not what?”

Ethan was losing his train of thought. Fast. A speeding train, one of those really fast ones they had in Europe. They had those in Europe, didn’t they?

“Ethan,” Riley said calmly, “You want to make sure I’m not what?”

“Settling,” Ethan said before he could talk himself out of it. “You never even get
mad
, and now ’cause of me you’re getting mad and getting in a fight. Maybe you might want a boyfriend who’s not a mess all the time.”

Riley stared at him so intently that Ethan almost looked away. “I did get mad. And yeah. I got in a fight. Because you matter, idiot. I love you. That’s what it
means
. But if you don’t get over here and fuck me, I’m going to make you blow me while I watch that Rangers-Devils playoff game where Adam Henrique scored the winning goal in overtime.”

Ethan’s glare was fierce as he crawled back on top of Riley. “Like fuck I’m watching that. Unless we follow that up watching the Kings score six goals on your man Brodeur.” Ethan paused, hands braced on either side of Riley’s head. “You’d fuck
him
? Wouldn’t you? Brodeur.”

“Wouldn’t
you
?”

“Nah. Told you, I don’t really like blonds.”

“Shore’s got blond hair,” Riley pointed out.

“It’s more red than blond,” Ethan growled, and bit him on the collarbone. “And shut up. I wouldn’t fuck Brodeur.”

“You’d totally do Henrique, though. Huh?” At Ethan’s glower, Riley gave a low, masculine laugh that made Ethan’s whole body shiver with warmth and lust. “It’s like I know you.”

“You do,” Ethan said, distracted. He kneed Riley’s legs apart so he could kneel between them. “Better than I do sometimes.”

Riley grabbed him by the back of the neck and kissed him so hard Ethan couldn’t breathe. “Get the lube,” Riley said almost desperately, and Ethan gave himself a mental fist bump while he leaned sideways to retrieve it from the bedside table.

It was hard to throw Riley off-balance, but Ethan could do it if he tried.

Ethan liked getting fucked by Riley, so he had no doubt he would like switching it up. And he did like it. A lot. Riley was so flexible, it was amazing how far Ethan could push his knees back when he finally got to the point where he fucked Riley with his cock instead of his fingers.

Ethan almost lost his mind at how good it felt to be inside Riley. But what really got him was seeing Riley
lose
it in a way he almost never did, and knowing it was because of him. Riley moaned loudly, grabbed at Ethan, and practically writhed beneath him on the bed. Seeing Riley let go like that—and enjoy it—was maybe the hottest thing about it.

Ethan’s thighs burned. He was winded and having a hard time keeping himself propped up so he could fuck Riley and watch him at the same time. He tried to get a hand on Riley’s cock, but it didn’t work. He slipped and landed on Riley’s chest and knocked the wind out of him. They both laughed, and Riley tossed him a happy grin and wrapped his long legs around Ethan’s hips to pull him closer and kiss him—messy and hot.

Ethan felt Riley get a hand on himself and that was great. He buried his face in the crook of Riley’s neck and shoulder and just
went
for it, graceless and frantic and energetic. When Riley came, it made his muscles clench so tightly around Ethan’s cock that he gasped and came with a surprised shout and a hard, final buck of his hips.

“I don’t want to be with anyone else,” Ethan said later, when they were both out of the shower and lying on the couch watching hockey. “It was just…. Y’know how I am. I talk.”

“Yeah,” Riley said, looking happy and sleepy and, Ethan noticed with a smirk, ridiculous—with his hair drying in weird angles and looking exceptionally fluffy. “I know. It’s okay. I don’t actually mind hearing about guys you think are hot. It was just the timing kinda sucked.” Riley laughed evilly. “Like all the shots you take on me at practice.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Ethan said, but he probably had a point. “I’d rather score on you at home than at the rink anyway.”

Riley smirked at him. “You say that like you’ve got a choice.”

RILEY SPENT
his three-game scratch on bench, watching Vazov turn out a win, a loss, and an overtime shoot-out win. Riley wasn’t mad about not playing, and it was good experience for the younger goalie, who Riley really did like. It was probably good for him to rest up, considering the playoffs were coming.

Halley didn’t apologize for running his mouth, so Riley didn’t apologize for hitting him. He just gave Halley a stony glare when Halley shot the puck at him during practice, and made sure Halley didn’t score.

Riley was half expecting Ethan to skate up to Halley and deck him. But instead Ethan just cornered Halley in the locker room and said, “If you have a problem with me, deal with
me
. Leave my family out of it. Oh, and by the way? My sisters could kick your ass. Not that it’s hard.”

Halley flushed darkly, but he just slammed his locker and shouldered past Ethan without a word. Riley thought Halley gave him a guilty look on his way out of the room, but he could have imagined it.

Halley had always been standoffish and sort of an asshole, and while he wasn’t the most well-liked guy on the team, no one was overtly rude to him or anything. But that changed after that confrontation in the locker room. Ethan
was
well liked, and everyone knew how important his family was to him. It was too close to the playoffs to ignore the guy completely—Halley
was
their top scorer, even if he wasn’t scoring as many goals as Lane had by this time last year—but his reception off the ice was chilly at best.

Even on the ice, when Halley scored goals, his teammates’ fist bumps lacked a bit of enthusiasm.

The team knew about Riley and Ethan, and no one ever had a problem with it. In his broken, halting English, Vazov tried to express to Riley that it wasn’t a problem. From what Riley could understand of the conversation, either Vaz had a friend or relative back in Russia who was gay, or it was a plot on a Russian television drama that he liked. Riley still wasn’t sure which of those it was, but it was nice to know his backup didn’t care he had a boyfriend.

One afternoon, on the way to one of his extra practice sessions at the rink, Ethan dropped Riley at Cruisers, and he saw Halley sitting at a table by himself, reading a book. He tried to ignore him, but for some reason, Riley thought,
What would Ethan do?
Then he had to ponder that for a little while, because he realized he wasn’t exactly sure
what
Ethan would do.

Ethan had a hair-trigger temper, but it was less aimed at people and more aimed at inanimate objects—especially technology—that didn’t do what they were supposed to. Riley had seen him repeatedly hit the remote control against the arm of the couch when it wasn’t working because the batteries had died, and Ethan yelled at his phone whenever a call got dropped or it didn’t send a text message. He was rarely angry at the guys he fought on the ice, and Riley wondered if Ethan realized he fought because of his ethics—not his temper.

Which meant that Ethan would probably say something to Halley. Except Halley had mouthed off about Ethan’s family, and that was something Ethan wouldn’t forgive lightly. Riley wasn’t sure he really had anything to say to Halley, but it struck him that he should think of something. The playoffs were coming up, and the team needed to play together, without any outside distractions.

Riley took his Coke and walked over to the table, his mind made up. Ethan was going to be distracted if the situation weren’t addressed, and Halley might not play as well. Besides, Riley wanted to know what the guy’s problem was already.

“Hi,” Riley said when Halley looked up. “Can I sit down?”

Halley shrugged. “Free country,” he muttered, almost petulantly. He was reading a book called
Journeyman
by Sean Pronger, whose brother, Chris Pronger, was an infamous NHL player who’d recently retired.

“Book any good?” Riley asked as he sat down on the other side.

Halley gave him an unfriendly stare. “Yeah. What do you want, Hunter?”

So this wasn’t going to be a pleasant conversation, then. Riley dropped the small talk. “I want to win the Kelly Cup. And to do that, you need to get over whatever your problem is.”

“Look, Kennedy—”

“No. Not with Kennedy,” Riley interrupted him firmly. “With me.”

Halley looked away. “I don’t have a problem with you.”

“Yes. You do,” Riley said, and took a sip of his soda. “You have since you got here. Why?”

“Can’t I just not like someone without getting the third degree?” Halley snapped, still not looking at Riley. “We’re teammates. We don’t have to be friends.”

“We’d be better players if we were better teammates,” Riley said. “And I really don’t know what I’ve done to piss you off so much. You got a problem with me because I have a boyfriend?”

“I got a problem with your taste in boyfriends, but I could give a shit who you fuck, Hunter.”

“Sure doesn’t sound that way,” Riley said, trying to ignore the flash of irritation at hearing that about Ethan. Maybe Riley was the one who had a temper when it came to other people.

Maybe it took Ethan to teach you how to stop ignoring things that made you angry.

“It wasn’t easy, you know,” Halley said, dragging Riley’s attention back to him. “Coming here. All I heard about was how good Courtnall was—how he was the captain and the rookie of the year. And fuck, if the team didn’t win with him on the first line, how the fuck are we gonna do it with me? I can’t even score on our own goalie in practice.”

That made sense, and it was along the lines of what Riley suspected Halley’s problem was, but it was still annoying. “Scoring a goal on me in practice isn’t going to make you Lane, Halley.”

Halley flushed again, but his voice was tense when he spoke. “I know. The pressure got to me. Okay? The coach reamed me a new one for that. But I can tell everyone thinks it’s hilarious that I haven’t scored in practice. And you know, I have. On the backup. It’s just that nothing I ever do is as good as Courtnall.”

“Lane didn’t score on me all that much either,” Riley told him, his pride a bit miffed. Sure. Lane did put more than one puck past him, but it wasn’t like it was a lot. “And I’m not the goalie you need to score on anyway. You
are
our leading scorer. Everyone knows that. But just so you know? Scoring a goal because you piss me off doesn’t make you good at hockey. It makes you an asshole.”

“I know. I’m sorry. Okay? I shouldn’t have said any of that and I know it.”

That was good to hear. Riley didn’t want to play with someone who thought that kind of behavior was acceptable. “Thanks for the apology. You should give one to Ethan, you know.”

Halley winced. “He’ll hit me, though.”

“Nah,” a voice said, startling them both. “He would have done it already.” Ethan handed Riley his keys. “Here you go, boyfriend. I even put gas in it. It was only a buck seventy-two. That’s all the change I could find in the seats.”

“Wow,” Halley said to Riley. “Really?”

Riley took the keys and slipped them into his pocket. “No one’s hitting anyone. I haven’t gotten my cheeseburger yet, so I don’t want to get kicked out.”

“And I haven’t stolen half your fries yet, so definitely not,” Ethan agreed cheerfully. “Move over, Riles. So why’d you say that shit, Halley? And why do you never, ever turn the volume off when you’re playing
Angry Birds
in our hotel room?”

“I said that shit because I wanted to knock Hunter off his game and score a goal,” Halley said. “But I do that thing with
Angry Birds
just to piss you off.”

“That’s what I thought, fucker.” Ethan grabbed Riley’s Coke and took a drink. “I meant what I said. You got a problem with me, tell me about it. Stop being all… passive-whatever.”

“Passive-aggressive,” Halley supplied. “And I know. Look. I just told Hunter I didn’t mean any of that shit. Also I’ve played with gay dudes before. I don’t care. I’m just frustrated because I’ve been playing like shit since I got here.”

“Stop trying to play like Lane,” Ethan said. He shrugged. “Play like you. Halley, every goddamn guy on this team is a better hockey player than me, but I don’t let that stop me.”

“You’re an enforcer, Kennedy. Not a goal scorer.”

“Tell that to Jared Shore. He was last year’s MVP of the playoffs,” Ethan retorted. “And the more you try to score on Riley, the more you’ll telegraph what you’re gonna do, and he’ll anticipate your every move and keep stopping you.”

At the somewhat stunned looks Halley and Riley gave him, Ethan shrugged. “What? I pay attention in practice, you guys.”

Halley sighed, but he looked a lot less tense. Riley understood what it was like to be under pressure, but he still didn’t excuse Halley for acting like an asshole because of it. Then again, Riley did play the most stressful position in hockey, so maybe he had a bit more experience dealing with the pressure. And he was probably getting laid a lot more than Halley was.