Chapter Twelve

CHAPTER TWELVE

Hayes

W hat the hell did I just do?

Maybe if I don’t move, we won’t have to talk about the way I basically mauled the guy like I’m a hungry bear and he’s…a picnic basket. I’ll just live my life with my face in his neck, and the rich scent of his soap in my nose, and the feel of his hard, hot body beneath me, and…okay. I’m getting off-track here.

I pull back and look down at him. He’s giving me a huge dopey grin that says he’s very proud of himself, and considering I can’t take my gaze off his mouth, I notice… “I bit you.” There’s literally a mark on his lip. “I’ve never bitten someone before.”

“You can bite me anytime you want. Only in approved places, though, and especially when I get a greeting like you just gave me. And as much as I hate myself for saying this, I have sore ribs, so.”

“Shit! I’m sorry.” I scramble off him, wondering if it’s from that hit in the third. Not that I watched. Okay, so I watched highlights, but only because I wanted to see what maybe happened because I seem to be really good at sex with him. And he was right. He’d played an incredible game. I know jack shit about hockey, and even I could see that.

He sits up, the two of us beside each other, dicks out, legs touching.

“I have cum on my shirt…and my pants. God, there’s jizz everywhere. I should go.”

“What? No!” Rylan rushes out like I just threatened to murder someone. “I’ll get you some clothes.”

“Which will fall off me.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” He pumps his brows in a way that should look much more ridiculous than it does. What is it with this guy? He can make anything look good. “I actually wanted to talk to you about something before you jumped in my arms and superglued your lips to mine.”

“Ugh!” I drop my head back against the couch. The worst part of what he just said is that he’s not wrong. That’s one hundred percent what I did and absolutely not what I’d planned to do when I came over. “I’ve never done that before either.”

“Most people aren’t as irresistible as me, so it’s understandable.”

“I’m being serious.” I run a hand through my hair. This is all a lot, and I’m not sure how I feel about it.

“Okay. Sorry. Let me get you some clothes, and then we’ll talk.”

I’m surprised when I nod, but I don’t think I have it in me to move right now. I’m stuck between shock, embarrassment, and feeling like I’m suddenly a sex god too.

Rylan tugs his shorts up, then disappears upstairs. I consider pulling up my pants and running, but I’m not fond of leaving the house with cum all over me.

He comes back down a moment later, and it’s clear he’s wiped up and changed his shorts. He hands me a Rebels T-shirt and a pair of sweats.

“You can use the bathroom down the hall. There should be a washcloth in there for you.”

I don’t make eye contact as I hurry to the bathroom, trying to jog with my dick flopping around and my pants around my knees. It can’t be a sexy picture, and not for the first time, I wonder why he wants to have sex with me so much, why anyone would.

I close the door behind me and find a washcloth and wet it. After stripping out of my clothes, I begin to clean up.

Okay…so there’s obviously incredible chemistry between us. Chemistry doesn’t always make sense. Sometimes it’s just a thing that happens, and though it’s never happened for me like this, it does with Rylan. So, either we go our separate ways or just…let the chemistry run its course. Eventually, it will.

I get dressed in his clothes, which are definitely too big for me. I’m not a twinky guy, but I’m also not a fucking professional hockey player either.

Holding my folded clothes and my shoes, I return to the living room. At first, I don’t see Rylan, but then movement on his back deck catches my attention. It’s a large space with chairs, a built-in grilling station, and a pool. When I get closer, I notice a privacy fence and a path which I’m sure leads down to the beach.

I set my clothes and shoes by the door, take a deep breath, and head outside.

“What are you doing?” I ask as he opens the grill.

“Making us dinner.”

“You don’t have to make us dinner.”

“Do you like chicken?”

“Is there anyone who doesn’t like chicken?”

Rylan chuckles. “Vegans, vegetarians?” He places some seasoned breasts on his Blackstone grill.

“Why are you making me dinner? We’re not friends.” The moment the words come out, I regret them. I don’t mean them the way they sounded, but the truth remains that this is only the third time we’ve seen each other, and all we do is have sex.

“Yes, we are.”

“No we’re not.”

“Yes, we are.”

“Has anyone told you that you’re the most annoying person on the face of the planet?” I cross my arms.

“Has anyone told you that you’re cute as shit?”

My cheeks heat. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not?” His brows pull together.

“Because it makes me feel like you’re making fun of me…or playing me…” The only guy who used to say things like that to me was Malcolm, and that was all a ploy for…I don’t even know what he expected to get out of it. Power, I guess. He used us all because he could. He’s a terrible person who got off on that.

“I don’t want to make you feel that way, so I’ll try not to say it, but just so you know, I’m not making fun of you. If I say something, I mean it. If someone else doesn’t see those things in you, then that’s because they’re fucking idiots.”

I bite my cheeks so I don’t smile. He’s not charming, he’s not charming, he’s not charming.

“Let’s sit down.” He closes the lid, and the two of us walk over to his outdoor chairs. “So…about today.”

“I did not plan on doing that. I don’t know what happened. Maybe if you wore a shirt and didn’t look like… Okay, that sounds really gross and victim-blamey. Your clothes or lack thereof aren’t responsible for my actions. Something about you really gets to me. It’s like I don’t feel like me.”

I sense his frown, and when I look, yep, his lips are turned down. “That doesn’t sound like a good thing.”

“It is! Contrary to what you seem to think, most people don’t want to sleep with me as much as you do. And I’m usually awkward—well, more awkward than I am with you. But even from that first night and how I told you I want to have all the sex and then ravished you in the office of my hotel, I’m like…” The word confident lingers on my tongue, but that’s not totally true, and it’s embarrassing. Am I more confident or just honest? “I feel like I can follow my instincts.” Instincts I didn’t even know I had.

He stares at me, this intense look in his blue eyes that I can’t really read. I wait for him to reply with a joke or tell me I’m an idiot, to make fun of me or just make me feel like shit about myself because Malcolm used to do that. How did I not realize that in the short time we’d been together, he made me feel bad about myself? I’ve never been the most confident or happy guy, but it was worse with him, and I didn’t even see it.

“You’re not talking,” I finally say.

“I’m not sure how to respond. That may be the coolest thing I’ve ever heard.”

I roll my eyes.

“I’m serious.”

No way that’s true. “Anyway, I’m probably going to regret telling you this, but you make me feel sexy, and despite knowing it’s totally in your head, the whole thing with you thinking I have magic cum makes me feel good about myself too. You opened the door looking like that”—I motion up and down his body—“and all those feelings combusted and I threw myself at you.”

He grins.

“Oh my God. Stop.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You’re feeling very proud of yourself.”

“Or proud of both of us, or like maybe this is perfect. First, we make each other feel good. You want to experience no-strings-attached sex and follow these feral sex instincts you have with me.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“That’s what I heard.” I try not to smile, and he continues. “Second, you’re my good-luck charm, so I was thinking we could give each other six months? We fuck like rabbits, I win the Stanley Cup, you have the best sex of your life and hone your craft so after me you can go on to blow other men’s minds…men and women?”

“Just men.”

“Okay, just men. It’s really the best of both worlds for both of us.”

His words settle in, understanding dawning. “You want to have sex with me for six months? That’s a relationship, and I’m never doing that again.”

“No, it’s not. It’s only a relationship if we allow it to be. We go into this knowing it’s a sexual proposition with a side of friendship—because I’m going to insist on the friendship. Neither of us wants a relationship. We agree that this ends after I win the Stanley Cup.”

“What if you don’t win?”

His mouth drops open. “I can’t believe you just said that to me.”

It’s impossible to hold back my laugh. “You actually think if we have sex, you won’t lose a game for six months?”

He rolls his eyes. “No. I’m not that big of an idiot but I do believe you help me play better. And the better I play, the more chance we have of winning more games. Is it completely foolproof? No, but you put the odds in my favor.”

I’m not sure the math is mathing here, but Rylan’s oversized grin says he’s convinced.

This idea of his, though, it’s not half bad. It’s really fucking good. I could get loads of experience and practice just fucking someone, without the relationship part. Loads of practice not being the guy who falls in love with the first man to ask me out and then end up dumb enough to propose to him. Plus, Rylan is really good at sex. Which brings me to my next question. “Will you be sleeping with other people?”

I’m not sure why that matters. We’re not in a committed relationship, but I need to soak up as much experience with him as I can before I go try it with anyone else, and it’ll feel weird if Rylan is having sex with other people and I’m not. It’ll feel like what Malcolm did to me.

“Nah. You’ll keep me busy enough. Plus, I don’t want their sex juju to cancel out your magic cum.” He winks in this flirty way that should look dumb but doesn’t. “What about you?”

“I have a feeling you’ll keep me busy enough too.”

Am I really doing this? I think I might be.

Rylan holds his hand out like we’re making a business arrangement, and I guess we are. “Deal?”

I shake his hand. “Deal.”

What the hell have I just done?