Chapter 9

Mo

Nico's mouth is around my cock.

He puts that infuriating mouth to good use, drawing me in deep before sucking his way back to the tip. His tongue presses against the head of my cock, drawing a moan out of my mouth. The sound echoes around the room, my hands fisting his dark locks as he swallows me back down his throat.

Fuck.

The word rings in my ears and I jerk awake. My sheets are tangled between my legs and my hands are gripping the top sheet like there's no tomorrow.

Forcing my grip to loosen, I ignore my throbbing dick and glance at the clock. 3:17 AM.

Fuck.

A growl escapes my throat as I rip off the covers, my rock-hard shaft springing up to greet me. I glare at it, feeling betrayed by my own body.

Pushing off my bed, I stalk over to the bathroom and turn on the shower. I hop in without giving it a chance to warm up, hissing out a breath when the cold water hits my back. Numbness takes over and I close my eyes, letting the fleeting moment of peace tether me back to the ground.

Only once I feel a headache coming on, I finally reach down and turn off the tap. Exiting the shower, I don't bother grabbing a towel before walking to my closet and pulling on some gym gear. The cold droplets running down my back serve as a welcome reminder as to why you don't fool around with teammates.

By the time I get to the lacrosse field, my foul mood has only gotten worse. My protein shake tasted less than satisfactory this morning and the drive to the university was painfully slow. Not because everyone suddenly decided to leave for work before dawn but because I managed to hit every goddamn red light on the way here.

There's only five traffic lights in Taber and I managed to hit all five.

Taking note of the two rookies setting up the lacrosse nets, I do a quick scan of the field and note the absent captains. Giving the rookies a nod, I head to the locker room to drop off my gym bag for a post training gym session. I don't use caffeine to stimulate my body, so the extra endorphins will be a much needed push to get me through the day.

Low murmurs float down the rows of lockers as I turn and head down the farthest one on the end. A tanned, lean body catches my eye as Nico pulls his shorts over his legs. I pause, my unknown arrival giving me the chance to assess the bruised skin covering Nico's torso. His movements are a lot less stiff than they were yesterday but far from normal.

"You'll sit this week out and reassess your condition next weekend."

Nico starts at the sound of my voice, making no effort to put on a shirt before turning to face me.

"And here I thought you might be less bossy on Sundays." He smirks and my mind flashes back to this morning when those same lips were featured in my R-rated dream.

A bolt of lust shoots through me but I shut it down quickly.

"I'm surprised you were able to get up this morning. I almost had to carry you home. Again." Ignoring the angry marks etched along Nico's otherwise smooth chest, I turn and open my locker.

"Training while hungover is one of my greatest superpowers." He grins in my peripheral, "Although I'm not surprised you're looking well, we had a bit of a pit stop on the way home."

Do not rise to the bait.

"We all have our moments." Tamping down my annoyance, I slowly click the locker closed and turn to find Nico studying me.

"How are you feeling this morning? Any… regrets?"

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. He has the subtlety of a toddler throwing a tantrum.

Staring back at him coolly, I reply, "My only regret is not beating you in a fourth round of pool. See you on the field, Montez."

He doesn't say another word as I leave, my footsteps echoing through the suddenly empty locker room.

Nico

Why does he have to be so hot?

Even if you took away the sculpted body, that face would sell magazines around the world. And let's not forget the dominant and untouchable fa?ade he marches around with. One look at Maurice O'Brien and you get the mouth-watering basics: disciplined, rich, and used to getting what he wants.

But then you throw in the assault charge he almost got for smashing in some guy's truck, the condescending father, the dark groves under his eyes, and suddenly there's a lot more to Mo than meets the eye.

It's safe to say that I am addicted.

"There's my favourite co-captain!"

Wes comes barreling around the corner like the overexcited golden retriever he is and wraps me in a hug.

I barely hold back a groan when he picks me up off the ground. "It's good to see you too, Wes. How was your weekend with Trip?"

Wes grins, his green eyes sparkling more than usual, "Too good to be true. I could go into the dirty details, but I would much rather hear about your rendezvous with a certain assistant coach."

I laugh, hugging my best friend tightly, "There is too much to tell. Where would I begin?"

"The beginning would be a safe bet."

Wes flashes me his dimples before pulling his shirt over his head. I turn away to give him some privacy – not that I haven't seen it all before – and reach for my water bottle sitting on the top shelf.

"What is that?"

I peek over my shoulder to see Wes frowning at my exposed lower back.

"Oh, that's nothing. Wait until you see the rest."

Shaking my head, I pull up my shirt to give him a front row seat to the Nico-got-his-ass-kicked show. Wes' eyes go wide as they take in the tragic state of my normally spotless skin.

"Nico, what the hell did you do?" His brows pull together as he stares at my back, "Are those… boot prints?"

I laugh darkly, "It's not about what I did, it's about what Maurice did. You should have seen-

"Mo did this to you?" Wes' eyes harden as he glances between my face and the boot-sized bruises gracing my body.

"What? No, Maurice didn't… Wes, wait!" I run after Wes as he storms from the locker room and breaks into a sprint towards our assistant coach.

Shit, shit, shit.

I scurry after him, cursing myself for not telling him about the gas station situation earlier. I'm halfway across the field when Wes reaches Mo. Willing my legs to speed up, I run as fast as I can to stop my best friend from making an ass of himself.

Damn it. I should have tried harder during sprints.

Thankfully, Mo had the foresight to initiate warm-up, so the rest of the team is busy running laps when I finally reach the men facing off. It's comical seeing Wes square off with Mo, the latter towers over him with at least forty pounds of extra muscle.

What is not comical, however, is the furious look on Wes' face. The last time he looked this mad, it took me and half the soccer team to drag him off Lacey's ex-boyfriend.

"What the fuck is your problem, O'Brien? You show up in Taber as an assistant coach and the next thing I know you"re beating the shit out of my co-captain." Wes is practically spitting while Mo stares at him coldly.

"Not sure I understand your allegations."

I throw myself between them, forming a human barrier between the snarling golden retriever and Iceman.

"Wes, this is a misunderstanding. It wasn't Maurice who-

"Step aside, Nico. I'm not going to let a condescending asshole think he can put his hands on you." Wes glares at Mo over my shoulder, "Is it because he hit on you? Are you not strong enough to handle a man flirting with you?"

The last blow lands, and I watch Mo's eyes light up with a cold fire.

"The next time you go around accusing people of assault, you should check to make sure you have the right facts."

He doesn't so much as glance in my direction before turning and stalking off the field.

I turn to Wes with a groan, "Dude. Maurice saved me. A group of farmers ganged up on me and he beat the shit out of their truck until they left me alone."

"What?" Wes blinks at me, the attack dog already retreating.

"Maurice. Saved. Me." I repeat the words slowly, making sure they have time to sink in, "He literally carried me back to his place, patched me up, and then took care of me for the rest of the weekend."

Well, he took me to a police station and got me drunk but that was close enough.

"Oh fuck." Realization dawns until Wes looks physically ill, "Why didn't you say something?"

I groan, "I tried but you were out for blood. Which I appreciate from the bottom of my heart, but in this instance, it was very much misplaced."

"Shit." Raking a hand through his hair, Wes looks at me with panicked eyes, "Why didn't you call me? We have a protocol for this type of thing."

I sigh, "I'm sorry, Wes. By the time I could have called you, Maurice had already taken care of everything."

"This is so messed up." He pinches the bridge of his nose, "I need to go apologize. I feel like such an asshole."

I pat his arm, "You are an asshole, but a loyal one. You stay with the team, I'll go talk to him. We're kind of friends after this weekend."

I pause, "Well, we were until you blew up at him."

"Oh God."

I give Wes one last supportive pat before taking off after Mo. This is the most cardio I have done all year, but somehow, I can"t bring myself to feel bitter about it.