10. Luca

10 /

luca

Harper demolished his burger with such efficiency I wondered if he was trying to break a record. Maybe hockey players were more cutthroat than I thought, and he was used to swallowing his food whole before someone else could steal it. He stayed on the north side of good manners, but there was unbridled passion in the way he savored each bite. My mind went wild at the way his eyes narrowed in pleasure, and his moans teased my dick into an erection in about five seconds flat.

When he popped the last bite into his mouth, I smiled. "You liked it?"

He swallowed and gave me a crooked grin. "You couldn't tell? You've done some damage yourself."

"At least I've got a bite or two left."

He leaned across the table and lowered his voice. "I took you at your word when you said we'll need all the strength we can get. I hope you aren't going to bail now that you saw how much I like meat."

I lowered my volume to match his. "You want my meat, Harper? Will you like having it in your mouth as much as you did that burger?"

His cheeks flamed, but he didn't flinch from my stare. "Even more. But what I'm really looking forward to is having it in my ass." A flicker of uncertainty in his eyes took me by surprise, and he added, "You weren't kidding about that, were you?"

I shook my head, confused about why he'd wonder if I was serious about fucking him. "I would never kid about it. And now that I know you're a hockey player, I want to do it even more. I want to give you something you'll never forget. I can't wait to see you come apart on my dick, totally lose your shit and spray your jizz all over the room." I lowered my voice to a whisper. "Knowing I did that to you will push me over the edge, and I'll fucking fill you up."

"Holy shit. Please." His voice quavered as the color in his cheeks deepened, and the tops of his ears tinged with crimson. His shallow breaths and the hungry look in his eyes confirmed that Harper wasn't getting much of what he needed. There was good news for him, though. I was about to give him all he could handle.

At home, in the elevator, I pushed the button for the eighth floor.

Harper raised an eyebrow. "You live up there?"

I shook my head. "I want to show you something you may not have found yet. Have you been to the roof garden?"

"No. I haven't heard about it."

"There's never anyone there, and it's nice at night."

When the elevator doors opened, I led him down a hallway to an unmarked door and opened it with my key fob. I nodded for him to go first, then followed him upstairs. When we stepped out onto the roof, he took several steps before stopping and making a 360. "Holy shit, this is beautiful." After glancing around, he turned his attention to a row of rose bushes, leaning over to smell the flowers.

We lived in a repurposed warehouse that had been transformed into so-called luxury apartments, with a rooftop garden as the crowning jewel. A metal barricade, carefully designed not to obscure the view, encircled the perimeter. Benches provided places to sit, and bright flowers—roses, astilbe, and many others I couldn't name—covered every surface. Soft garden lights cast a serene glow.

I reached for Harper's hand as we walked around. Thankfully, discreet markers identified the plants, because I barely knew a tulip from an aster. Harper loved the crimson Egyptian stars, and the astilbe charmed us both. The unexpected beauty was mesmerizing, and we eventually claimed a bench overlooking the lake, where moonlight shimmered on the water.

Harper interlaced our fingers, and my heart sped when our hips touched. I wanted him sexually, but a desire for more kicked my nerves into high gear. After too much heartbreak and too many hookups, I was used up. Harper was an insanely handsome hockey star, and it wouldn't be long before someone with more to offer came along.

A car on the street below backfired, bringing me out of my reverie. Harper leaned his head against my shoulder, but when he said nothing, curiosity got the best of me. "You okay, babe?"

"Why wouldn't I be? It's perfect out here."

"You haven't said much, so I wanted to check in."

"I like being here with you, Luca. Sorry if I made you think I didn't."

"It's not that. I'm having a fantastic time, but I got nervous because you're so incredible, and I'm afraid…" I groaned. "Sorry. Can we pretend I didn't say that?"

He raised his head and edged away far enough away to see me. His eyes glimmered in the moonlight, and he unlaced our fingers and squeezed my hand. "No, because honesty is important. We can't monitor everything we say, and I want to be close to you. That won't happen unless we tell each other the truth about things." He swallowed hard. "Since I just made that proclamation, you're not the only one who's nervous. I can't remember the last time I've enjoyed going out with a guy this much, and I want to make a good impression. I'm afraid, too."

"I'm trying to impress you . You know how we jocks are—good at talking big—but I really want you to like me."

"Stop worrying, then, because I already do."

"You can stop thinking about it, too, because I like you, Harper." A loud blare almost made me jump, and it took a moment to realize it was in my head—an air horn I'd installed years ago, warning me that Harper and I had crossed the line between hanging out and catching feelings. But it was a false alarm. I could handle this because all we'd agreed to do was hang out. I needed companionship for a while, and like I'd been thinking, someone else would snap Harper up soon.

We sat in silence, looking toward the lake. I couldn't help noticing how smooth his hand was, so I asked, "Don't you work out?" I felt like an idiot as soon as the words left my mouth. Desperate to remedy my mistake, I tried to explain. "I didn't mean that. You're a professional hockey player, so of course you work out, but your hand is amazingly smooth."

He put on this crooked grin I'd noticed before. The playful expression reminded me of a kid making a face—so cute my chest lightened, and so funny I nearly laughed.

He rubbed a spot on my palm. "Not yours. You've got calluses."

"Because I work out, and since you evaded my question, I'm starting to think you don't. Are you wearing the best bodysuit in the world to cover up how soft you are underneath?"

His sexy chuckle belied the faux-innocent look on his face. "Want to get a closer look and find out? I wasn't so soft on FaceTime, was I?"

"Mm. You sure weren't. And about that closer look, I'll take you up on that."

"Okay, but I get a good look at you, too."

My cock sprang to life, thrilled about Harper's suggestion. I was wearing fitted shorts, tight in the crotch, and I hissed when the unyielding fabric blocked my dick's sudden ascent.

"What?" Harper rolled his eyes. "I know you're the older one, but do your bones hurt already?" When I laughed, he tilted his head to the side. "What's so funny?"

I tried to come up with an answer, hesitant to admit that the mere idea of him inspecting my body had given me a hard-on. Fuck that. "You asked about my bones, which was funny because I was getting a boner."

He pulled his hand away, his eyes bulging in a ridiculously overdone imitation of looking shocked. "You were getting a boner while we talked? What's wrong with you, Moretti?"

"I guess it must be you. I mean?—"

"It's okay," he said. "I got a boner when I offered you a closer look."

"You did, eh?" I smirked. "Want to tell me your apartment number now?"

He raised his eyebrows. "No. You'll have to follow me downstairs to find out."

"Am I to consider that an invitation?"

"Consider it anything you like. You'll find out soon."

We were being silly, pretending that what was about to happen downstairs wasn't already decided. Yet, in a way, maybe it wasn't. As much as we liked each other, maybe the proof was in the doing. Perhaps, for both of us, we wanted this so badly we couldn't trust it until it actually happened.

Our eyes locked, and the hush that fell over us was broken only by sounds from the street below. As Harper drew closer and wrapped his arm around me, the lingering scent of his cologne launched a powerful wave of emotions. I'd rarely felt such intense sexual desire, but my longing for Harper's company went beyond the physical. The moment I considered that, memories of Caleb and the pain he caused came rushing in. With an amazing force of will, I pushed those thoughts aside, determined not to let the past interfere with my happiness tonight.

"Now you've gotten quiet," Harper said.

"Enjoying the moment." He squeezed my hand, and I marveled again at how soft it was. "You didn't tell me how you keep your hands so velvety. Use a special lotion or something?"

"No lotion. I wear workout gloves."

"For real?" I scoffed. "Only softies wear workout gloves, Blanton. Leave it to hockey players."

He lifted my hand to his lips for a kiss. "There you go with the soft thing again. You said you like my hands, so maybe…"

"What?"

"We'll see what my soft hands can do to your dick."

"Let's go."

"Patience, Luca. Anticipation makes everything better." He placed my hand against his cheek. "Can we sit here just a few more minutes?"

"Whatever you want. I'm not the boss."

He caught his lower lip with his teeth, and it wasn't until a car drove by with its music too loud that he said, "I hope you will be when we get downstairs."

My breath caught in my throat. It was hard to believe he wanted so many of the things I needed, too. Some guys were into getting manhandled by the goalie, but most paled at anything beyond lying on their backs and whining. I was ready to rip Harper's clothes off right there on the rooftop, but since he wanted more time, I said the first thing that came to mind. "How do you feel about being traded to Buffalo? Coming from a powerhouse like the Barracudas, it'll be a change."

He lifted an eyebrow, but didn't seem disappointed by the change of subject. "It'll be different, but the Warriors are a good team. I should get to play a lot more than I did in D.C."

"There's no missing the hype about how much they need you. You didn't get to play much in Bethesda?"

"Yes and no. With so many great players, there wasn't much ice time to go around for us younger guys. At the beginning, I was always on the fourth line, which doesn't get a lot of time. The coach eventually said he could use me more if I'd play right wing. I did it, but it never felt natural because I've always been a center. And even as a winger, I didn't get that much more playing time."

"Sounds like that won't be the case here. A commentator on ESPN was talking about what a big hole Ewing left, even though he was past his prime. He said you were the best acquisition Buffalo has had in years."

He held up crossed fingers. "I'm ready to work my ass off."

"I bet you'll be the biggest star on the team a year from now."

"Thanks." He shifted beside me. "That would be nice."

"I'll have to go to all the games when I'm in town so I can watch it happen."

"I'd like that. I've never been to an indoor lacrosse game. Do you like playing indoor lax?"

"Box," I said. "It's called box lacrosse."

He snickered. "Box lax. Sounds like a medicine for… well…"

"Don't make fun of my sport. And it's box lacrosse ." I glanced over in time to catch his smirk.

"When's your season?" he asked.

"It runs from December to April. Playoffs start in May."

"Similar to us. Our season begins in October, and playoffs start in April."

We grew quiet again until Harper dropped his arm from my back and kissed my cheek. "Tired of sitting out here?"

An adrenaline rush kicked my heart into high gear. "I've had enough of it for now. You?"

"Agreed." He stood, then reached for my hand to help me up. "Still want to know my apartment number?"