33. BILSON

THIRTY-THREE

BILSON

We barely made it back to my hotel room without touching each other, and the second we got behind closed doors, we were naked and coming. It was the dirtiest, quickest, hottest hand job of my life.

But even better than that is the way we are now: wrapped around each other, skin on skin, face-to-face, and breathing one another in.

We’re sated, still trying to recover, but it’s the quiet in my brain that really does it for me. There’s no buzzing doubt, no voice in my head telling me I have to hold on to him any way I can so he doesn’t run away.

The thing is, out of all my relationships, Miles has the most reason to leave. Sure, he came out to Tripp and Dex, and he says he wants to come out to his family, but I would totally understand it if he changed his mind. Or if, when he came out, they disapproved of me so much that he ended it so he could still make them proud.

It’s easy to say, “If they don’t love me for me, then that’s their issue,” but if my parents had even shown me a scrap of love growing up that wasn’t in the form of money, I’m not so sure I wouldn’t do everything I could to keep getting that affection. That support.

I just happened to try to find it in all the wrong places.

Miles finally seems like the right person for that, but I might not be his.

So in a way, I’m scared of him following through, too, because it could be the end of us.

“I guess I should get back to my own room soon,” he murmurs, half-asleep. “Roommate and whatnot.”

“Poor Rook. Still having to share a room. You can stay here. Just tell everyone you hooked up. It’s technically not a lie.”

Miles’s eyes crack open. “Is that what you want me to tell everyone, or are you saying that because you think it’s what I want to hear?”

I cup his face. “You’ve just decided that you want to come out. It doesn’t have to be all at once, and I don’t want to push you into something you’re not ready for. Hell, I don’t even know if I’m ready for the world to know about me. I wanted to tell Tripp and Dex so I had someone outside of you to ask for advice.”

“Advice on me?”

“For starters. Plus myself. Like all those swirling thoughts about how long I’ve been this way, why I didn’t work it out sooner, and why sex with a teammate was so easy for me to transition into.”

Miles snuggles in closer, burying his head in the nook of my shoulder. “I think I knew back in college.” He says it so quietly, like he’s ashamed that he’s known all this time but has been ignoring it.

“It doesn’t matter how you worked it out or when or when you were able to admit it to yourself.”

“I know that, but … when my frat brothers started coupling up with guys, I was curious enough to ask a friend of mine to peg me. If that isn’t a big I like cock flashing neon sign, I don’t know what is.”

I shake my head. “Nah. You don’t have to be gay to like certain sexual acts. Like you said, you had a girl get you off that way.”

“But I know it’s not straight to think of your queer frat bros while you’re being fucked by a woman.”

I hesitate. “Okay, I’ll give you that one, but I’m just saying enjoying anal can be a straight dude thing too. If God didn’t want us to put things up there, he wouldn’t have made the prostate a cum trigger.”

Miles bursts out laughing, his soft breath on my skin and the sound of happiness warming my gut. “Are you saying you’ve had some self-exploration? Some sexploration with your own ass?”

“No, but I did do some, umm, internet research on it.”

“When?” He pulls back to look at my face.

I bite my lip. “Possibly after the first time you and I had sex? Because I wanted to make sure it was good for you, and I did it right? If there is a right way to have anal. I swear some sites made it seem like finding the prostate is as hard as finding a woman’s clit.”

His warm smile lights me up inside. “You definitely have no trouble finding it.”

“Good.” I kiss the tip of his nose. “Stay the night. Tell the team you hooked up, don’t tell them anything, it’s up to you. They’re all so oblivious they probably won’t even notice.”

“You’re right.”

“Of course I am.” I hope.

Luckily,our teammates are just as oblivious as we hoped they’d be, and for the whole three-game road trip, they don’t even notice that Miles and I are sharing a room. The other rookie, Viktor, hasn’t said anything, and why would he? He gets his room to himself now. No one would question why.

I start to think we could really do this—have a relationship on the DL. Who knows, maybe they are all noticing but staying out of what’s not their fucking business?

That’s probably wishful thinking, but I like where we’re at. I like sleeping in the same bed, waking up together, and then playing hockey, even if we lose.

Which we did on our third game, but I blame it on us all being tired and having to play back-to-back against Arizona after Vegas.

But now that we’re on the plane on the flight home, I sense a shift in Miles. It was there before we left for Vegas, and it’s there now. This coldness that I can’t help thinking is my fault.

Logically, I know it’s about his parents, but if it weren’t for me, he wouldn’t even have to question them. Or at least right now. Maybe never? If I hadn’t signed with Nashville and been so desperately hopeless when it came to the opposite sex, Miles and I wouldn’t have hooked up, he wouldn’t be questioning his love for his parents, and I’d … I’d probably be married to the very next woman I’d slept with after my breakup with Rina.

I’d be miserable, but at least he’d be blissfully unaware of himself. Though, is that better or worse?

For me, accepting myself hasn’t been difficult because I have no one I could disappoint.

“Question,” I say randomly.

He glances up from his phone. His hair is in his face, and I want to reach over and push it back, but I don’t.

“If the world was about to end, would you rather know about it so you could say goodbye to everyone you loved or be oblivious so when it happens, it’s over with quickly?”

He blinks at me. “Should you really be asking this on a plane?”

I chuckle. “Never mind. I was … thinking that some things are better left unknown, even to those who it’s happening to.”

Miles’s brow furrows, and he’s so damn cute when he’s confused. I can’t pinpoint when I started thinking of him in that way. Cute. Hot. Attractive outside of the social norms. Only that now we’re deep in this, everything he does is endearing to me.

His heart must be protected at all costs, and if he comes out to his family, there’s a really good chance it’ll break. I don’t want to be responsible for that.

“Are you high?” he asks.

I wish. “About thirty thousand feet high, yes.”

He’s derisive as he says, “Stop being weird. That’s my job.”

I smile, but then he goes back to his phone, and I go back to my overthinking.

When we touch down, we climb into my car so I can drop him off home and pick up Killer from Miles’s parents.

“You’re not planning on telling them today, are you?” I ask. I shouldn’t because it’s not my decision, but I need to know if I have to prepare to be kicked out of there for corrupting their little boy.

“Nah. Not today. I … I don’t know when I’ll take that leap.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean for that to sound like I’m pressuring. I’m actually the opposite. I’m worried I forced your hand with Dex and Tripp, and I don’t want that to happen with your parents too.”

He reaches over and puts his hand on my thigh. “I followed you to the bar because I wanted to do it. I wasn’t thinking you were pressuring me. I was jealous that you had the guts. If and when I come out to my parents, it will be my decision. I promise.”

I cover his hand with mine. “Good. Because I don’t want to be the source of that kind of stress. You don’t need it. Hell, with it being your first full rookie year, something complicated with me is the last thing you need.”

“You might be the last thing I need, but you’re the first thing I want when I wake up in the morning.”

“That might actually be the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“No wonder you have four ex-wives, then.”

“And then you finish with that. Pointing out all my failures.”

“Nah, if I was going to point out your failures, I’d also mention that you’ve played professional hockey for years and still don’t have a Stanley Cup.”

“I think that’s what I love most about you. We can be having a serious moment, and then you make me laugh.”

“L … love?” he croaks.

I wave him off. “You know what I mean.” My voice is just as crackly though. Because even though the context of the L-word wasn’t a confession of undying love, I do know I feel more for Miles than I ever have for anyone else.

With the others, I thought I was in love. I thought I knew what love felt like. With Miles … I’m sure of it.

And it scares me to death.