27. KNOX

TWENTY-SEVEN

KNOX

When I wake up, Easton is securely wrapped up in my arms, and while I'm hugging him from behind, he's hugging his pillow. Hard not to side-eye him over that, but when I lift my head and see his face twitching in his sleep, he looks so sweet like this, and I let it slide.

His five-o'clock shadow is more stubble than anything this morning, and his dark eyelashes are fanned out over his high cheekbones. He really is something special to look at, but under all the physical is a lifetime of memories, and it's the memories that have me so hooked.

When my twenty-something-year-old cat died, who my parents had before I was born, instead of offering me the sympathy Connor did, he'd flicked me a look and said, "Feline sad? Wanna go out right meow and drown your sorrows?"

The night we sat with him watching the draft, when Colorado picked him, his face fell the tiniest bit. I'd thought I was imagining it because in the next second, he looked nothing but thrilled, but now I know what that look was.

When we came out to each other. When he'd confessed that he didn't know how to be gay. When he was struggling with math, and that time we'd spent three hours after training, when everyone else had gone home, just so he could practice his accuracy. We were only in high school then, but I'd been impressed by his dedication, and I think that was one of the first moments that the truth started to creep in. When it came to hockey, I was good. I wasn't great. Not only that, but I didn't have it in me to become great.

His nose twitches again, and he turns his face to bury it in the pillow as he lets out a long groan.

My hold on him tightens, and I throw my leg over his. "Morning, sleepyhead."

East tilts his head so one eye blinks out at me, and a sleepy smile tugs his lips up. "Morning."

"You're sort of adorable when you're sleeping."

"And when I'm not sleeping?"

"All the way adorable."

"Good answer."

He lets out a huge yawn and rolls onto his back, but as I go to move away, he grabs my arm and pulls it around his waist again.

"Stay."

"I'm not a dog." But I stay because I didn't want to let him go anyway.

"You know …" East trails his fingers up my arm. "I have a whole day off. If you didn't have to work, you could have a whole day off as well."

"Already put in the groundwork last night."

His face lights up. "Really?"

I hold my stomach. "Not … feeling so good."

"I'm glad your backup career wasn't acting."

I pinch him, and he laughs. "I was very convincing. Sarah said to call if I wasn't better this morning. And look at that, I'm sick. So sick. Might have to spend the entire day in bed."

"There's no complaints from me about that. But get under the covers. I want to snuggle."

I move quickly and dive under there with him. His legs tangle with mine, and we roll onto our sides to face each other. My heart does this weird shaky thing at having him so close, at waking up with him in my arms, at being able to see every tiny fleck of white and black in his gray eyes.

"Should I let the Collective know that big, bad Easton Kikishkin is a snuggler?"

"Please do." His eyes take on a wicked gleam. "I'd love to be in a Collective snuggle pile. All those hot bodies pressed up against m?—"

"Don't finish that sentence."

"Why? You going to punish me?"

"No. I'll just have to remind you that you're mine now."

Easton's gaze drops to my jaw. "Am I?"

I had to go and say that, didn't I? "Do you want to be?"

"No way, I asked first."

"I want you to be," I admit. My hand finds his jaw, and he leans into it. "It feels like you are. This whole thing with you has been easy, and we fit. But that's what scares me. In a week, I could be anywhere. Until we work out what comes next, I can't make you any promises."

"Maybe I want you to."

"What?"

His gaze finds mine again, and he looks determined. "Over ten years. That's how long I've had feelings for you, and even when we go half a year without seeing each other, those feelings don't change. Do you really think only seeing you once or twice a week is something that's going to scare me off? That sounds like an improvement over what we already have."

"That's not a great way to start a relationship."

"Have you done it?"

I catch on to the point he's making pretty quickly. "No."

"Then you have no way to know that."

"And what if I'm sent to another state?"

That takes the wind out of his sails. "I don't know," he admits. "But I can't not try. I can't. "

It would be so easy to promise him that we'd make whatever we need to work. The harsh reality is that reffing isn't an easy job. If I make it to the NHL, whether it's a linesman or referee, it means a lot of travel. I'll be home maybe ten days out of the month, and what if those days don't line up with East's time off? He's going to be traveling, I'm going to be traveling, and he can say whatever he wants about us already barely seeing each other, it's not the same.

Now that I know I can have him, the distance will be torture.

"This conversation is useless until we have all the facts," I point out.

"I just want you to know where I'm at. That I'll pick you."

"Even if we don't see each other for months?"

He can't answer that. Hypothetically, it's easy enough to say that won't matter. But in reality, it will.

"Come on," I say, cutting through the depressing conversation, "I'm going to cook you breakfast."

"Wait."

Before I can move, Easton rolls so he's on top of me.

"So you know, I have a strict no-clothes rule in my bed."

"That's excellent information for next time."

"It's immediately enforceable."

Well, sex is going to be an even better distraction than food, so he doesn't need to tell me twice. Easton helps me get my pants down, then pushes off his boxers while I work on my shirt. He reaches over for his lube, giving me an incredible view of his ass, and I can't help but run my hand up and over it.

He lowers his body on top of mine, hard cock sliding into place beside my aching one. He makes it so much harder to breathe when he's looking at me that way. My hand tangles in his hair, and I tug him closer, needing his lips on mine. There's something weighty about our kiss, and maybe it's in my head and how I'm feeling, but each brush of our tongues lingers, each sweep of our lips has me begging for more .

East reaches between us, spreading lube over our cocks and jacking us both slowly. His patience and the way he's touching me has my blood red-hot, and I sink into the bliss that comes from having his naked body pressed to mine.

This might still be new, but I can't see me ever getting sick of it. I can't see me ever not wanting the man on top of me, and how the hell that's going to work, I have no clue. Because if I'm being honest with myself, it won't. There's no world where a professional hockey player and a professional referee can exist in a relationship together. That's not even taking the ethical side of things into account—physically, there's not enough time in the day. Financially, I would have struggled to find my own place, but one of the main reasons I never bothered is because I figured if I ever made my dreams, I'd move to a hockey hub. Somewhere like Jersey, where there are multiple stadiums within driving distance, cutting down on so much of the travel.

Why couldn't East have been traded there? At least then we might have had a shot.

I clutch him tighter to me, rolling my hips in time with his as the need builds. Then, I give Easton what he wants.

As hard as it is to say, I break my lips from his and suck a line of kisses down his neck. "Wanna mark you up," I murmur. "Want everyone to know you're spoken for. That you're mine."

Easton shudders on top of me, and his thrusts pick up speed.

I suck a deep, dark hickey into his collarbone. "No one else gets to have you."

"No one," he rasps.

Even in the midst of sex, promising something I want so badly makes my chest ache. I'm so horny, but under that, a desperation is sizzling in my consciousness, telling me that I can't lose this.

I won't survive it.

And I'm beginning to suspect there are some feelings I'm holding back and won't let myself think about that are the cause.

"Come on me," I tell him. "I want you to claim me as yours too." I know he likes the caveman, possessive type in bed, but this morning, I need it as well.

"You are mine," he grunts right before he unloads. He keeps jerking us together, his cum covering me, and I'm getting that delicious zapping at the base of my spine that tells me I'm so fucking close.

"Almost there."

Easton's mouth runs along my ear. "You're mine, Knox. I'm never, ever going to give up on us."

My dick throbs as my orgasm hits, and my cum covers my abs, mixing with his. Then I hold his gaze as my high ebbs and rub our mess into my skin. Easton has to physically bite down on his lip as he watches me.

"How many more loads do you think we can share today?" I ask.

His heated gaze promises it's going to be a lot.