Crashing the Net (9 page)

Mike said, “Goodnight,” and Alexei swore he could feel Mike’s smile against his chest.

“Goodnight, Michael.”

Alexei woke the next morning and pulled Mike closer, burying his nose in his soft hair, soothing himself against the anxious dreams that often preceded a big game. He dozed like that for a while, half asleep, pleasantly aroused, and perfectly happy.

Then sanity returned.

Damn
.

His arms hit the mattress with a thump, instantly colder for having let Mike go. He forced himself to ease from the bed, then for a long time, he stood looking down at his friend. Mike was even prettier with his dark hair going in all directions, hickeys on his neck and chest, and his long, silky eyelashes resting on his cheeks.

Damn. Damn. Damn
.

Alexei practically sprinted back to his own apartment, furious when he got there and didn’t know what the fuck to do with himself. He stood stark naked in the middle of his kitchen, more unsettled than he had ever been in this space.

With an irritated sigh, he stomped to his bedroom, pulled on another pair of pajama bottoms, then stormed back into the kitchen. Some music, the rising sun through the windows, and the satisfying—if unnecessarily loud—banging of pans against his stove helped restore his equilibrium.

Mostly.

He dug through the fridge and cabinets, pulled out whatever he could find, and began cooking up a storm. Blini and scrambled eggs would be perfect before a big game. He gave his entire focus to the task, not letting his mind wander to anything else.

He knew the moment Mike stepped into his apartment, but he didn’t turn around.

“Good morning,” Mike said from directly behind him.

He barely suppressed his startled jerk. And the desire to rip whatever clothes Mike had on, back off. Then again, maybe Mike was still naked. Alexei refused to look. “Morning.”

Mike peered over his shoulder. “What’s for breakfast?”

Alexei looked down at the feast he was preparing. For two. “Just what I could make with what was in the house,” he said, reaching for his coffee to soothe his hoarse voice.

Mike slid around to rest one hip against the counter beside him. “Looks delicious.”

Alexei made the catastrophic error of glancing at Mike. Mike wasn’t looking at the food.

When Mike opened his mouth again—no doubt to say something else Alexei didn’t want to hear—Alexei grabbed a plum from the fruit bowl and shoved it between Mike’s lips. He ignored the bright laughter in his friend’s eyes and the disappointment he felt at discovering Mike was, indeed, wearing something from the waist down.

“Eat,” he said, pointing at Mike’s chair at the table.

Mike went without protest, munching on the plum. Alexei tried not to stare at the flex of his jaw, the shine of juice on his lips, or the long line of his neck when he swallowed.

He imagined Mike swallowing something else entirely.

One of the blini hit the counter and bounced onto the floor.

“You all right over there?” Mike asked.

“Fine.”

“Alexei, we should—”

“Shut up. I’m thinking.”

Which was a patent lie, since he couldn’t hold onto a thought for longer than a second.

Just the headspace a goalie should be in before a big game
.

He slid the last of the blini onto their plates, scooped out eggs, and brought the food to the table. Mike took his plate without a word, and, for the first time all morning, didn’t look so goddamn pleased with himself.

Alexei sat and shoveled breakfast into his mouth, preventing any conversation.

He knew damn well he was going to run out of food before he figured out a good way to explain to Mike why this couldn’t work.

Alexei was painfully aware that what he wanted, what he
really
wanted, he couldn’t have. Not for the long term. And rather than settle, he’d resigned himself to being alone.

He wasn’t signing up to be a monk, of course, but the men he wanted just didn’t stick around for long. As far as he could tell, they didn’t mind putting up with his bullshit for a while, letting him be in charge, maybe even enjoyed the novelty of being dominated, but then it was done and they were gone. There’d only been one man, once, who he’d thought might go the distance.

Turned out the only distance they’d gone was the roughly three hundred miles of Canadian countryside that now separated them.

Alexei couldn’t stand the idea of losing Mike
.
Which was stupid, since they were teammates. Coworkers, who, with almost no warning, could be traded to another town. Province.
Country.
That alone should be reason enough to avoid a relationship. Maybe even the reason he could give Mike to avoid explaining all the other shit. Then they could move on and Alexei could think back on last night as a means for getting his desire for Mike out of his system.

Alexei almost choked on that lie, and his eggs, when Mike innocently sucked a dot of jam from his finger.

But it didn’t change the truth. Alexei wanted what was best for them both. He wanted Mike’s friendship. And Mike deserved a man who would make love to him every night, the way Alexei had last night. It had been good. Great. Beautiful, even. But Alexei wasn’t that guy. He’d kept his promise to himself and held back. Way back. Those spanks had been nothing compared to what he’d wanted to do.

Like bite the tender skin where the curve of Mike’s perfect ass met his thigh. If Alexei closed his eyes, he could imagine the bruise. The arc of his teeth imprinted on pale skin and over hard muscle. He could imagine Mike’s butt glowing pink, not just with two handprints, but warmed to a rosy red all over, hot to the touch. He could almost hear the noises Mike would make when Alexei fucked him, his hips slamming into all that tender flesh.

The sound of Mike clearing his throat yanked Alexei from his wayward daydream. He snapped his eyes open and realized he’d been sitting there in la-la land, smiling like a fucking idiot.

Mike’s grin had returned. He caught Alexei’s glare and did a miserable job at trying to appear serious.

Alexei dropped his forehead into his palm and watched Mike from the corner of his eye as he stood, cleared his empty plate, and tackled the dishes. Watched the flex of muscle in Mike’s back as he lifted a heavy pan or bent over the dishwasher. By the time Mike returned to the table, Alexei was coiled tighter than a goddamn spring, ready to hurl himself from his chair at the least provocation.

God, when had he become such a fucking wimp?
Just tell the guy it won’t work, then figure out how much damage you’ve already done to your friendship.

It was that last part that really had him worried. Made his breakfast turn to lead in his belly.

Mike came around the table, too close, and leaned down until their cheeks brushed, his lips tickling Alexei’s ear when he whispered, “Thank you for being my first.”

Alexei’s heart stopped, his fork clattering down onto his plate. He looked up at Mike. “What?”

Mike smiled. “I’m going to go get ready to head over to the arena,” he said evenly, as if he hadn’t just dropped a bomb on Alexei. He ran a finger over Alexei’s stubbly cheek. “Don’t forget to shave. It’s our last chance before the playoff beards start.”

Alexei nodded automatically, his brain still stuttering.

He’d taken Mike’s virginity last night? But the dildos…the plugs. He’d never once thought those were all Mike had ever…

Alexei sat with his mouth hanging open and watched Mike’s perfect ass walk out the door.

How, in the name of all that was holy, was he supposed to play hockey when his best friend kept turning him inside fucking out?

The atmosphere in the locker room after the game that night was jubilant, the team rejoicing in having begun the playoffs with a solid win against a tough opponent.

Mike hardly batted an eye when Alexei agreed to meet everyone at Smitty’s to celebrate, though he couldn’t suppress an inward pang of disappointment. Alexei even managed to load a couple more guys in the truck, ensuring Mike didn’t have an opportunity to suggest, let alone actually start, anything.

He’d been hoping—all damn day—that they’d do something
else
after the game. Like get naked and…

Well, hell, he wasn’t even sure what they’d do after that. And he didn’t care so much, as long as it was with Alexei.

And there was that naked part.

He had this vague idea that Alexei had been holding back last night. God knew, Mike was a total newb when it came to sex, but he didn’t want to be coddled. Far from it. His fantasies had always been more…well, more than what anyone would consider vanilla. He had loved it when Alexei had bitten his chest. His stomach. Hell, goosebumps rose across his neck and arms just
thinking
about it. He wondered how he could coax Alexei into doing more—

He nearly jumped out of his damn skin when a heavy arm slung around his shoulder and shook him. “Earth to Mike! Come in, Mike!”

Mike laughed and looked at Garrick. “Sorry. Were you saying something?”

“Yeah, for about the last five minutes, all the while wondering when you were going to stop staring off into space and notice I was describing, in detail, all the ways to castrate a calf.”

Mike winced. “Why the hell were you talking about that?”

“To see if you were listening! Everyone else within earshot ran away.”

Mike smiled sheepishly. “Sorry. Just thinking about stuff.”

“Anything you want to talk about?”

No. Hell no. And no fucking way
. “That’s all right. I’m cool.” He happened to look at the bar and saw Alexei watching them, his eyes narrowed. Mike ducked out from under Garrick’s arm.

“You sure you’re okay?” Garrick tracked his gaze to the bar. “Ah, now I see.”

Mike’s heart stopped. “What?”

“Is it the brunette? Or the blonde?”

Definitely the brunet, but not the one you’re thinking of.
Mike laughed nervously. “Neither.”

“You sure? Because I know Sandy and Becca. I’d be happy to introduce you.”

“No, really. I’m good.”

Garrick sent him a speculative look. “You know, the ladies love this shy thing you have going. You probably haven’t even noticed that half the regulars at these things are trailing after you most of the night. They’d probably faint if you actually smiled at one of them.”

Please god, don’t let that be true.
“Really?” Mike croaked.

Garrick laughed, a huge guffaw that turned more heads in their direction, before leaning in close. “Dude, if I didn’t know better, I’d wonder about you.”

Mike choked on his beer while Garrick cracked up, whacking him on the back a few times. By the time he’d regained the ability to breathe, Garrick had wandered off.

A hand brushed down his arm. “You okay?”

He looked up, instantly soothed by Alexei’s presence. “Yeah. Garrick just—” Mike almost couldn’t finish the damn sentence, his chest was still so tight from the shock. “He said he wondered about me.”

Alexei cocked his head. “So?”

“What if he’s serious?” Mike whispered. He told himself to be chill. Garrick didn’t know shit, and maybe it wouldn’t be such a big deal if he did. But Mike had only come out for the first time
yesterday,
and he still could hardly believe he’d done that—though it was safe to say the reward had been far sweeter than he could ever have dreamed.

And either way, who knew and who didn’t wasn’t a choice he wanted to have taken away from him.

Alexei plucked Mike’s beer from his hand and put it on the table beside them, startling Mike out of his spiraling thoughts. “Come on. We’re going home.”

Mike didn’t argue, grabbing his coat saying goodnight to everyone as he followed Alexei out onto the street. They’d parked Alexei’s truck at home and walked the few blocks to the bar.

Now it was later. And colder. Mike forced himself to leave a respectable distance between himself and Alexei, even thought there was no one out on a night like tonight.

Jesus, one minute he was freaking out about being outed, the next he wanted to hold Alexei’s hand on the street. This shit was stressing him out.

“Stop it.”

He looked at Alexei. “What?”

“You’re thinking so hard I can practically smell the smoke coming from your ears.”

“I guess I’m worried about what Garrick said. What if he thinks I’m gay?”

“Dude, you
are
gay, remember?” Alexei said with a laugh.

“Yeah, but I play hockey.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Some hockey players are gay. Some are straight. You, of all people, shouldn’t be surprised by this.”

“I guess I thought I was a freak.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized how they sounded. “No, I mean—”

Alexei shoved open the side door into the warehouse and dragged Mike inside.

“Is that what you think? That you’re a freak?” he demanded.

“No, of course not. “

Alexei opened the lift doors, casting a dim light across them both, then grabbed Mike’s arms. “Am I a freak, Mike?” he asked, far more gently.

“No.”

Alexei was amazing. Smart. Funny. Loyal. Kind.

And yeah, rightfully annoyed with Mike if the way he sighed and scrubbed his hands over his face was any indication.

“There are plenty of gay guys in the sport,” Alexei said reasonably. “Just look at Garrick.”

Mike blinked. “What? You’re joking, right? He dates, like,
tons
of women.”

Alexei snorted. “And if I catch him staring at your ass one more time, I’m going to punch him in the face.”

Mike swayed a little. God help him, he was getting an erection.

“Do you believe me?” Alexei asked gently.

“That you’d punch Garrick in the face?”

Alexei smiled. “No. That there are more than just two gay men in the whole hockey universe.”

“But no one is out,” Mike said.

“No, no one is out,” Alexei conceded with a sad smile. “At least, not to the public or the leagues, as far as I know. But that doesn’t mean their friends don’t know. That they aren’t in relationships. Committed and otherwise.”