4. EASTON

FOUR

EASTON

We're able to get a private room at one of the Strip hotel's exclusive restaurants, thanks to Ezra planning ahead. It's a steakhouse, so the walls smell like oak, and it has an old-timey men's club vibe to it.

Ezra raises his water glass. "Eat up and hydrate, boys. We have to line those stomachs with some kind of food before we destroy it with copious amounts of alcohol."

Knox, who happens to be sitting next to me—totally on purpose because he wouldn't leave my side as we entered the restaurant—leans in close to my ear. "Maybe you guys are up for some debauchery after all."

I can't speak for the rest of the Collective, but I would never say no to debauchery. Especially not if it includes my brother's best friend.

Lane Pierce, publicist and Oskar Voyjik's partner, speaks up. "But don't forget we have a press conference tomorrow about the charity game, so try not to be too hungover for that. Please."

The partners of the others have all come out for the fun, except for Foster Grant's, and he has already said he's staying for dinner and then going back to the hotel to be with him .

"Don't get your hopes up," I say to Knox. "All these men are taken, so I doubt they'll want to get into any debauchery with you."

They better not want to.

Then I put on my innocent smile and glance over my shoulder at my brother sitting at the other end of the table. I'm assuming he was wanting to box me in again, keep me safe from the big-bad, sex-obsessed men who will ruin my honor and take my dignity, but he was too distracted talking defense with Ezra and Oskar. They're all the defensemen; the rest of us are measly forwards, trying to score as many times as possible.

When I see Connor is still engrossed in a conversation with Oskar, I turn back to Knox. "The only available guy for you tonight is me, and as we've already established …" I pause, waiting for him to tell me I'm off-limits, that Connor would hate him, that we're better off being friends, all the excuses he's given me in the past, but when he doesn't, I go a different, less depressing route. "I'm way out of your league."

Knox throws his head back and laughs. "Too true."

My gut would be full of butterflies if he didn't have that condescending tone that says, "Sure, keep being delusional." I raise my hand to get the waiter's attention. "Why don't we start this party now? We'll have a round of—what'll we have, Ez?"

"Macallan. No, we're not inducting anyone new tonight, but we're all here." He pats Ollie Str?mberg on the back, who retired a few years back. "That deserves to be celebrated."

"Make mine a double," I say. "I'm ready to hit Vegas up for a good time."

Beside me, Knox sighs. I can hear my brother growl at the other end of the table, but everyone else is eager to get this thing going.

"If you make it on to any puck … hare? sites, I'm telling Mom and Dad."

Instead of getting angry like I normally would, I sweetly address the overprotective nutcase Mom and Dad turned Connor into. "I'll have you know, a male bunny is a buck. So, it would be a puck buck website, and I'd actually be okay with that. Good advertising."

Knox's breath is hot in my ear. "Why are you determined to play with fire tonight?"

"Because I'm a grown-ass man who knows what he wants, what he doesn't want, and what he prioritizes in life. I just got this tiny bit of freedom—why are you and Connor determined to squash me back into that box that you, of all people, know I hated?"

Knox winces as if I've struck him, but it's true. He's right when he said I didn't have anyone back then, when we first started messaging on that damn app. He was there for me, and we've talked about some heavy stuff that I never would with either of my brothers, even Lachie, who's gone through similar things to me.

Knox leans back in his seat. "Okay."

That throws me. "Okay, what?"

"You can party tonight. You can get drunk and do stupid shit, and I'll make sure Connor doesn't stop you."

There has to be a catch. "How?"

"The deal is you can do all that, but I'll be by your side every step of the way."

I screw up my face. "What? No. You're almost as bad as Connor. Unless you mean you'll watch, in which case, I'm not opposed. It could be hot. Maybe I'm an undiscovered exhibitionist. Maybe I could talk to Oskar about that. Do you know that before he met his partner?—"

"Everyone knows about the CCTV threesome."

"Connor tell you?" I can picture it now—Connor saying things like this is why he doesn't want me coming out because people will think I'm like Oskar Voyjik.

Personally, I don't think there's anything wrong with being like Oskar Voyjik. He's sex-positive, doesn't let anyone shame him for his sex life, and contrary to what uptight conservatives think, he's an excellent role model for the younger generation of queer people coming up through sports because he's living his truth.

"I am still part of the hockey industry, you know. I don't have to get all my gossip from your brother."

I pat his shoulder. "Sure you're still part of the hockey industry, my prison donkey friend."

"Prison donkey?"

"A zebra. Duh."

Knox looks at me in concern, "And to think, you haven't even had a drink yet and you're already spouting random things that make no sense. Tonight is going to be fun for me, isn't it?"

Yes. I'm sure babysitting me is a world of fun for him. Almost as much as it is for me, having him beside me without being able to touch him or hook up with anyone else.

Our drinks arrive and are passed around.

I lift my glass to his to cheers. "To a fun night."

His blue eyes shine. "A fun night."

"This is bullshirt," I slur and lean against Knox's shoulder.

The lights in this club flash continuously, matching the beat of the music, but it's all blurry to me.

"What is?" he asks.

"This feels like you're babysitting me instead of actually spending the night with me."

"Considering you can't even stand up on your own, I'm going to go with I am babysitting you." His hands rest on my waist, holding me steady, and I want to lean into him further and burrow my way into his arms completely. "I told you. You can party all you like, but I'm going to be right by your side while you do it."

"But why? Connor's not even here anymore after taking that girl home, and you won't even dance. And look at all my friends out there. I want to dance. I want to grind with randoms, make mistakes, and experience the freedom to do whatever the fuck I want now that I'm out."

Knox's jaw tightens, like he's grinding his teeth, and I can see the conflict in his eyes.

I might be drunk off my ass, but I know what that look means. He wants me to experience that freedom as much as I do because Knox knows what it's like to remain reserved in his queer actions. It's why Connor knows Knox is queer but hasn't exactly seen it. I think Knox wants his freedom, too, but isn't prepared to take it in case it affects the important people in his life. Like Connor. His mom. My parents.

"If you're not going to dance, I'm going to go find someone who will." I don't give him a chance to pull me back. I practically run out onto the dance floor, where everyone else is.

Some people have already gone back to their hotels like Foster Grant, Caleb Sorensen, and Ollie Str?mberg, but everyone else is out here having fun.

Miles and Bilson are having a dance-off, and Bilson's brought out the sprinkler.

Quinn and his man are slow dancing, even though it's a fast song. There are jokes thrown around about him not being allowed to break his dick on a dance floor again, and I don't want to know any more than that. Asher and his boyfriend are happily sitting in a booth, people-watching while Asher's arm is around Kole's shoulders.

Everyone here is paired up, and ugh, we need more single blood around here.

"Middle Kiki!" Ezra yells and throws his arms around me when I reach the group and swamps me in the smell of his cologne. "Finally got away from your sex jailer, huh?"

"Ooh, I had one of those before," Oskar joins in. "It's fun until it's not. "

"Either of you want to dance with lonely ol' me?" I bat my lashes at them.

Oskar looks toward his partner, Lane, who's standing at the edge of the dance floor, sipping a dark liquid. The gleam in his eye as Oskar points at me and the subtle lift of his chin he gives sends a shiver of something down my spine. Something like I wish a man would look at me that way.

"We both will," Ezra says. "Anton loves it when I try to make him jealous."

Okay, so this won't end up in a threesome with some of the hottest men in the NHL, but at least I'll be able to dance with two men's hands all over me.

Oskar cages me in from behind, putting his chest against my back, while Ezra pushes his thigh between my legs. We all move to the beat, and even though I'm turned on as hell, my cock is only at half-mast. Stupid whiskey dick. Though poking my newfound friends with my dick is probably not the best way to keep said friends.

My heart is racing, probably because for so long, I've wanted this. To not care who's watching. Yet, now that it's happening, I have to admit, I'm a little self-conscious. I know that comes from learned biases, though, and the thought that queer people should exist in quiet without overt displays of gayness in public. It's all bullshit, but trying to get that learned internalized homophobia to shut up can be difficult sometimes.

"Tell me," Oskar says in my ear. "What's the deal with you and the ref?"

"Prison donkey," I correct him.

"The prison donkey, then," Ezra says. "I swear he hasn't taken his eye off you all night."

"The tension is so thick I had to get Lane to jerk me off in the bathroom as soon as we got here," Oskar adds.

I turn my head toward him. "You jerked off to the thought of me and Knox?" Hey, join the club, buddy .

"No, the sexual tension. Lane has the wicked ability to make me forget about everyone but him."

I don't know how that works, but okay. "There is no sexual tension. I flirt with him, and he pats my head like I'm five years old and says something ridiculous."

"I don't buy it," Ezra says. "Especially considering he's walking this way and looks like he wants to kill Oskar and me."

Oskar hums. "Jealousy is so hot."

Ezra nods at someone off to the side of the dance floor, and I can only assume it's Anton. "Hell yes, it is. Now it's my turn to take my boyfriend somewhere to get off." He fists his hand and taps my chin, making it feel every bit as condescending as when Knox pats my head. "Thanks for the assist."

Then he disappears, and I turn to face Oskar, but then he's yanked away from me, and Knox takes his place.

Large hands wrap around my back, and as Knox pulls me against him, our bodies slamming together, it seems whiskey dick is no longer a problem. Him being near me is enough to make my cock ache and my heart fall to pieces.

I've never been good at wanting something I can't have. Being the middle child, it seemed I always got hand-me-downs from Connor while Lachie got new stuff because by the time I was done with them, they were too worn-out.

I basically never got anything new, and I resented it.

The same way I resent Knox always putting my brother first. But they both need to realize that Connor doesn't have to protect me. He's misguided and probably has Mom and Dad in his ear telling him that Lachie and I need to be protected because of who we are.

We're not that fragile. We're hockey players, for fuck's sake.

"What are you doing?" Knox growls in my ear. Sometimes I swear I hear the lust in his voice, his want for me as loud as mine is for him, but he's either the strongest man on earth, or I read into every little detail because I want to believe Knox could feel a smidgen of what I do for him. Either way, I hate that there's this big unspoken thing between us when all I want is for there to be nothing.

Not even clothes.

"Dancing," I snark. "What are you doing? I thought you said you don't dance?"

He lifts his head and stares me dead in the eyes. "I never said I don't dance. I said we won't be dancing."

"Too Footloose for you? Can't dance, or it leads to sex?"

Knox groans, but I can't hear it, only feel it in his chest where my hand rests. "Not between us, it doesn't."

"Then dance with me." I move my hands to his hips and try to get him to loosen up. Surprisingly, after a moment or two, he does.

"I guess if you're dancing with me, it stops you dancing with anyone else and getting yourself into a scandal."

My grin is evil and designed to bait him. "Maybe a good scandal is what I need. It worked for Ezra and Oskar."

"Yeah, those guys are not who you should be modeling your career off. Your parents and Connor would have a heart attack."

My parents and Connor. Of course. Because my whole life should be modeled around them and what they want from me. As if he can read my mind, Knox pinches my chin gently, drawing my eyes up to him.

"It's also not you . A scandal, East? Really? You want that kind of drama in your life?"

"I just want … something."

His thumb skims my jaw before he quickly releases it and hooks his arms loosely over my shoulders. We're not exactly grinding together; it's more of a PG-type version of how I was with Ezra and Oskar, but it's still the closest we've been … ever?

Knox's body is warm and hard. He's taller than me, and his shoulder is right there, begging for me to bury my face into his thick neck. My whiskey dick is wearing off, and all I want to do is press in tighter, closer, rub my cock against his hip, his thigh, any part of him. That'd be a fast way to end this though, and I'm not in any hurry for it to be over.

I'll revel in the torture of the moment instead.

"I'd say an NHL career is something," Knox says gently. There's no resentment or weight to his words, but it does make me curious, and not for the first time, about whether he wishes things had gone differently for him.

"Yeah, but maybe I don't want my career being my whole personality."

Knox laughs, the free kind that lights up his eyes and makes me fall that little bit more. "You picked the wrong career for that, then."

"You know what I mean."

"Sure, but are your only two choices a scandal or being a hockey god? Isn't there a middle ground?"

I ignore his question and decide to tease him instead. "Hockey god?"

"Ahh …"

"No, no. Don't get all shy on me now. Tell me more about how amazing I am. I'm better than Connor, aren't I? Admit it." Our faces are closer than they were a moment before, and I don't make an effort to back up.

"Why are you always trying to lure me into trouble?"

That pings something in my head. "Trouble?"

Knox's expression holds all of the indulgence he normally sends my way. "You're an elite player. You don't need me to feed your ego. I'm also not going to compare you and Con, because he's a D-man and you're a forward."

"You wouldn't anyway though, would you?"

"Smart man."

I'm wondering what the hell I'm doing here. No matter how strongly I feel about him, it's pointless, and while this Disney version of slutty dancing might be fulfilling that desperate need I have for his attention, the reminder that Con will always come first has suddenly ripped away the appeal.

"You know what? I need another drink. Dancing isn't as fun sober."

Knox immediately pulls away from me. "To the bar, it is."