28. Wyatt

I wasn’t going to say a word about the condoms Bear had knocked off the counter earlier, but that didn’t mean they were out of my mind.

I could read between the lines. Anthony and Simon had been together long enough, they’d probably ditched rubbers ages ago. Then Anthony had come home after rooming with his ex for two nights, armed with a box of Trojans.

Somebodywas on the prowl. I didn’t think he’d met anyone—he wasn’t looking at his phone every twelve seconds or getting that dreamy, faraway expression people got when they were counting down the minutes before they saw someone. He didn’t have that loopy little smile after every glance at the screen.

Was it wrong that I hoped to God he met his hookups someplace else? It was his house and he had every right to fuck anyone and everyone here. I was in absolutely no position to even wish he’d go to their place or a hotel or something, because holy shit, that would make the me one hell of a choosing beggar. The man was putting me up and keeping me off the streets; hearing him getting laid was the smallest price to pay.

I just wasn’t sure there my elbow would survive the amount of jacking off it would take to stay sane while Anthony was having sex under the same roof.

And that was a train of thought I really, really needed to stop while we were in the same room. Whether he had hookups in the offing or not, he was here right now and wasn’t making any noise about leaving or having someone over. We’d settled onto the couch to watch a game, and the conversation had been all about hockey. We’d talked about last night’s game. He’d explained a couple of penalties I’d seen but didn’t quite understand. He’d ranted about a player from Florida who’d been suspended for two games over a dirty hit in Buffalo last night.

“Should’ve been five games,” he grumbled as he put on the pregame show. “That son of a bitch has put at least half a dozen players on the long-term injured list in his career.”

“Really?” I sipped my drink. “And he’s still playing?”

Anthony made an unhappy noise and nodded. “He’s fucking thug. Everyone insists people just hate him because they hate playing against him, and they’d be thrilled to have him on their team.” Shaking his head, he put the remote aside and pulled his feet up under him on the cushion. “If his happy ass ever lands in Seattle, I’m requesting a trade.”

“I don’t blame you. What a dick.” I hadn’t been watching that game last night, but Anthony had shown me the replay. My knowledge of the sport was still incredibly basic, and sometimes things didn’t look dirty to me when they were, or vice versa; there were subtleties that were obvious to fans and players but went over my head. The one last night? Anthony hadn’t needed to explain to me why it was dangerous. The way the player had put up his elbow and aimed it right at the side of the other guy’s neck was so painfully obvious, even my novice ass understood.

“So what does someone like that have to do to get punted out to the League?” I asked. “Whip out a switchblade and stab someone?”

Anthony snorted. “His fans will just say the other guy deserved it for not keeping his head up or something.” He rolled his eyes. “Ugh. And he injured the shit out of a Seattle player the season before I got here. Broke his jaw and didn’t even get a penalty for it.”

“What?” I stared at him. “Seriously? No penalty?”

“Refs didn’t call it. But after that, the guy can’t touch the puck in Seattle without getting booed. We’re one of the only teams he never scores against because the fans fuck with his head too much.”

“Good!”

“Right? I just keep hoping he’ll retire.”

“How long do you think that’ll be?”

Anthony sighed. “Knowing my luck? He’ll be one of those guys who plays into his forties.”

“Always how it is, isn’t it?” I chuckled. “I had a first sergeant who we all just kept hoping would retire. Like we were all counting down the days until he hit twenty years.”

Anthony’s brow pinched. “But he stuck around?”

Groaning, I nodded. “Fucker got promoted, so he reenlisted. Last I heard, he was going for thirty years.” I shook my head and brought my drink up again. “One more reason I’m so glad I got discharged.”

“Yeah, I bet. I swear the dickbags are always like cockroaches. There could be a nuclear apocalypse and they’ll still be playing.”

I barked a laugh. “I can just see it—a whole team of asshole hockey dickheads playing through the nuclear winter.”

“Right?” He chuckled, and the conversation died away as the pregame show started.

Without our meandering, rambling conversation to hold my attention, my mind went right back to where it had been ever since we’d unpacked groceries.

Anthony. Out on the prowl. Hooking up.

He wouldn’t have any trouble in that department, that was for sure. If I’d come across him on an app, I’d have swiped right so hard my phone would’ve exploded. Between his gorgeous face and that mouthwatering six-pack, every queer man in Seattle was probably his to lose.

I shifted a little on the couch, hoping he didn’t notice. Anthony was a million miles out of my league. I had no illusions of even registering on his radar.

Didn’t stop me from being painfully attracted to him, though.

Or wondering if it would be seriously hot or absolute torture if he was loud enough in bed that it carried down to my room. On one hand, it would drive me out of my ever-loving mind, listening to someone else driving him wild. On the other…

I shifted again, and just for good measure, kept my glass in my lap so he didn’t notice my hard-on.

Get a grip, Wyatt. Jesus Christ.

Fortunately, the game was about to start, and trying to learn the sport meant paying close attention. Hopefully that would be enough to keep me from embarrassing myself.

Then Anthony’s phone pinged with a distinctive tone.

Before I could tell myself to play it cool and pretend not to notice, I turned my head.

He caught my eye, and he was instantly blushing. We both looked away.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “I’m… Just trying out a new app, and…”

I forced a laugh. “You don’t have to explain yourself.”

“I should probably mute the notification sounds, though.” He made a face. “I don’t need this thing going off in the locker room.” He furrowed his brow at the screen. “How the fuck do I do that, anyway?”

“Go into Settings. The icon should be in the…” I thought about it. “Upper right, I think? You can turn it to vibrate or silent.”

Anthony peered at his phone and tapped the screen. “Ah. Okay. Here.” He tapped a couple more times. “There.” With a self-conscious laugh, he added, “Now my teammates won’t hear me being a clueless dumbass.”

I cocked a brow. The game had started in the background, but neither of us was paying any attention to what was on the screen. “Clueless?”

Scowling, he nodded. “I feel like my grandpa trying to figure out how to open a PDF.” He squinted his eyes and said in an old man voice, “These darn kids and their newfangled hand computers. Get off my lawn.”

I laughed, but I felt for him. While those apps weren’t difficult to navigate from a technical standpoint once you found all the buttons and functions, they were a pain in the dick to use. So many expectations, so much subtext, so many unwritten rules and cheat codes everyone was supposed to intuit. I’d hated using them, even if they had been a reasonably efficient way to get laid in my old life.

Anthony had been off the market for longer than I’d been out of the game. Dipping his toes in and learning all the new norms had to be intimidating.

Maybe I could…

No. That would just be torturing myself. On the other hand, I’d been desperate for a way to reciprocate everything he’d been doing for me. This would be a tiny, tiny thing, but maybe it would soothe my conscience a little even while it drove my libido insane.

I cleared my throat. “It’s been a while since I’ve used one of the apps.” I gestured at his phone. “But… I could help you set up your profile?”

He met my gaze. “Yeah?”

“Sure. I don’t think there’s really much of a science to it, but sometimes getting an outside opinion…” I wasn’t sure how to finish that. I wasn’t exactly a shining example of hookup app success, so what the fuck did I know?

To my surprise, though, Anthony said, “I’ll take all the help I can get.” He made a frustrated gesture with his phone. “I have no idea what the hell I’m doing.”

I couldn’t put my finger on exactly what emotions were running through me as I slid closer to Anthony on the couch. Dread? Excitement? A mix of frustration and arousal over the impossible fantasy of him directing his horniness at me?

I ignored them all, though, and I gestured for him to show me his screen. “What have you got so far?”

He hesitated, chewing his lip. “I’m thinking I should just delete it and start over.”

“Why’s that?”

He blushed even redder and shook his head. “I’m just… I am so bad at this.” With a self-conscious laugh, he tilted his head back against the couch. “Would you believe I’ve never used a hookup app?”

“You haven’t?”

“Nope. I met my girlfriend in high school, and after her, I hooked up with some people I met in clubs.” He lowered his gaze to the now-darkened phone in his hand. “About the time I was going to make a profile, I met Simon.”

“Oh. Okay, so this is a whole new world for you.”

Anthony nodded.

I nudged him with my elbow. “Hey. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. You never had the opportunity to use an app.”

“I know. I just… I feel completely clueless.”

“You and everyone else out there.” I tapped his phone. “If you don’t like what you wrote, go ahead and delete it. We can start from scratch.”

He met my gaze, uncertainty written all over his expression. Goddamn, he really was cute, and it was almost funny, seeing this badass hockey player turning shy and nervous about putting himself out there.

Skip the apps,some voice wanted me to suggest. Hook up with me.

Instantly, renewed heat rushed into my face, and I broke eye contact. Clearing my throat, I gestured at the phone again. “Let’s get started.”

Anthony unlocked the screen and erased everything he’d written. Then he handed me the phone. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“Okay, well. Let’s start with what you’re looking for.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but halted. His cheeks were still ruddy, so I could guess what he was hung up on.

I offered what I hoped was a reassuring smile. “I’m not gonna judge.”

“I didn’t think you would. I just…” He laughed, wiping a hand over his face. “God, I feel like such a tool.”

“Nah. It’s always intimidating to put yourself out there.”

“Seriously.” He took a deep breath. “I’m, uh… Okay, so, I’m bisexual. Pansexual, really, but…” He waved a hand. “Open to anybody, basically.”

I nodded and went to enter it, but the screen had gone dark. After he’d unlocked it again, I updated his preferences. Beneath that, there was a section for more explicit preferences.

I turned to him. “You can fill this part in if you’d rather not dictate it to me.”

Anthony nodded and took back the phone. He spent a minute or so going through the various options. I focused on the hockey game while he did that, both so I wouldn’t make him self-conscious and so I could catch my own breath. This wasn’t the first time I’d helped someone put a profile together when I’d have been more than happy to jump their bones. It could be an exercise in frustration, but it wasn’t that bad.

Seriously, dude. Get a grip.

“Okay.” Anthony shoved the phone back at me. “I think that covers everything.”

I took it and scrolled to the next section, but not before a few of his checked boxes caught my eye.

Vers bottom. Condoms (non-negotiable). Love oral (giving and receiving). Low/no kink.

God help me. I was a top through and through, and the thought of riding Anthony’s gorgeous, sculpted ass had me—

Focus, Miller. Not a good time to get a hard-on.

I shifted a little. “Okay, so… This part’s your ‘about me.’” I turned to him, poised to ask if he had any thoughts, but that was when I realized he’d leaned in closer. To see the screen over my shoulder, of course, but still… Just like that moment in his car before we’d taken the critters out for a walk, we were suddenly close. Really close.

His eyes flicked up to meet mine, and from that quiet hitch in his breath, he’d noticed the lack of space between us, too.

He drew back slightly and focused on the screen. “I, uh… For the bio…” He swallowed audibly. “What should I put?”

My mind… went blank. “Um.” I sat up, subtly trying to put a fraction of an inch more space between us. “It’s… you know, your personality. What you’re looking for. Like do you want—” My teeth snapped shut.

Anthony turned to me, forehead creased. “Want… what?”

It was my turn for a hard swallow. “Are you looking for a partner? Or…?”

Understanding dawned. So did some renewed color. “Oh. Right.” He flicked his gaze back to the phone. “I’m… I don’t need a relationship right now. I don’t think I could handle—” He blew out a breath and shook his head. “I just want to get laid.”

There was no hiding the way those words made me squirm. Not with him this close to me. Especially not when my arm brushed his.

I tried like hell to pretend I’d just been getting comfortable, though. “Okay. That’s… Yeah. You just broke up with someone, so…” I nodded sharply and stared at the blank text box on the screen. “So we can just put…” Fuck. I couldn’t think when I was this close to him. Least of all when I was trying to think about getting him laid.

“I guess… um…” He took a breath as if he needed to collect himself. “I could just say I’m fresh out of a relationship? Looking to, uh…” He squirmed. “To…”

The words “blow off steam with some hookups” were on the tip of my tongue, but they evaporated the instant I met his gaze. His expression was full of shyness and uncertainty, but there was something else there. Something smoldering in those deep brown eyes.

We both stilled. For long seconds, we stared at each other. Breathing, but barely. Was his pulse pounding as hard as mine was?

Anthony broke eye contact, and disappointment folded my stomach in on itself. Damn. For a second there, I’d thought we might—

He gently took his phone from my hand. Reached past me. Put it on the end table.

Then his palm was on the side of my face, and I had a heartbeat to think holy shit before his mouth was against mine.

Holy. Shit.

Disbelief held me still for long seconds, but when Anthony started to draw back—his momentary boldness shifting to tentativeness—I chased his mouth. He settled more comfortably against me, dragging his lower lip across mine, and I didn’t think a single kiss had ever electrified my spine like this one did. I didn’t even know if it was because he was an amazing kisser, or straight up because Anthony was the one kissing me. Both, probably.

Whatever. I loved it, and I wanted more.

I curved my hand behind his neck. His soft moan made me a little braver, and I slid my fingers up into his hair. That drew a whimper out of him, and fuck me, but he deepened the kiss. His tongue slipped past my lips as he exhaled through his nose, warm breath whispering across my cheek.

Was this real? I wasn’t having some frustration-fueled wet dream, was I? Because there was no way Anthony was kissing me. That he’d made the first move. That his tongue was in my mouth and my hands were in his hair. How? How?

When he finally came up for air, he stared at me with wide eyes. We were both breathing hard. Both trembling.

For half a heartbeat, I thought he might have second thoughts and decide this was a bad idea. Another beat, I was sure, because he was pulling away.

But then he shifted and settled over me, powerful thighs straddling my hips, and that talented, hungry mouth claimed mine once more. The thick ridge of his erection pressed against my stomach, and every time he moved, he rubbed against my dick too. I wanted him naked. I wanted him begging and arching and coming.

Mostly, though, I wanted this deep, hard kiss. He wasn’t overbearing, but he was aggressive and demanding, and when I responded in kind, he moaned and trembled in my arms.

I tugged at his shirt. He got the message immediately, sat back, and peeled it off. Before it had even landed on the couch—before I’d had a chance to drink in the sight of those abs up close—he was kissing me again, and I was more than happy to settle for dragging my hands up his back. God, he was all solid, lean muscle. Powerful. Sculpted. So fucking hot. I’d banged Marines, soldiers, and even that one spec ops guy, and I’d never had my hands or mouth on someone this jaw-droppingly sexy.

And then he broke the kiss and went for my neck.

“Oh, fuck…” I leaned back, closing my eyes as his lips skated alongside my throat. “Anthony…”

He nipped just above my collar. “I want you so bad.”

The words made my toes curl and almost had me coming in my pants. Anthony wanted me?

Of course he did. He’d all but pounced on me. He was hard as a rock, breathless, kissing my neck like his life depended on it. No shit he wanted me.

But hearing him say the words out loud had me arching off the couch and so needy I could barely breathe. “Goddamn…”

His laugh was a hot breath across my throat. Then he pushed himself up, hands braced behind me on the back of the couch. The shyness and uncertainty from earlier were a distant memory—nothing but pure lust and need gleamed in those eyes now.

“So, uh…” I licked my lips. “Pretty sure I can help with that whole getting laid thing.”

Anthony grinned. “Yeah?”

“Uh-huh.” I slid my hands down over his back. “Pretty sure you got some of the necessary supplies earlier, too.”

His face once again glowed red, but he was laughing. “Yeah. Yeah, I did.” He bent to kiss me. “And I don’t even have to fill out that stupid profile now.”

“You can if you want.” I nipped his lower lip as I pushed my hands into his back pockets. “But I had some other things in mind.”

Anthony groaned low in his throat and kissed me hard. “All the necessities are upstairs,” he murmured against my lips. “I think we should join them.”

I didn’t argue.