48. Hunter

Sitting out on practice was torture.

Considering my condition, I'd missed weeks. I sat beside the coach with my eyes glued to Tyler. He flew across the ice, practicing with his line—that didn't include me. I tapped my stick against the boards as I watched the scrimmage, his face a mask of indifference as he was put at center instead of on the left wing.

The puck dropped, and he was lightning quick. Colton swore as the puck was stolen from him. Tyler shot across the ice with a clean pass to Amon who sent it right back. He checked one of our defensemen—his opponent for the sake of practice. He scrambled him by dragging the puck between his legs, knocking it to Mouse who passed it back to avoid Jarman—on the rival team. In a tic-tac-toe fashion, he faked left then let the puck soar over Preston's right shoulder.

It was a beauty.

Preston simply shook his head, his smile visible even from behind his mask. My Aussie skated to rest, preparing himself for center ice without a single celebration over his goal. Coach made notes in his little black book—and I wasn't the only one who took notice. Colton's jaw ticked as he saw the lineup.

The energy was palpable in the locker room, the anticipation of the upcoming games radiating through the air. It was a challenge not to be captivated by the man before me. Amidst the animated banter and shoulder knocks exchanged among teammates, he remained indifferent. We shared a bond that felt stronger than ever, gearing up for another road rotation leading to the end of the regular season, all with the hopes of securing a coveted spot in the Frozen Four.

Tyler's gaze met mine, eyebrow quirking at the intense look I was giving him. The atmosphere crackled with electricity as we geared up for the challenges ahead, the promise of the Frozen Four hanging in the air like a shared dream.

"Easy, Boston," he whispered in my ear as he passed me on the way to the showers. I caught the backward glance, a slight smirk playing on his lips—the only thing to break that stoic mask. I muffled my groan, trying to calm my body's reaction to that little quirk that was a promise of what was to come. He'd been holding out on me, hell-bent on me recovering—save for a few blowjobs. But I was hoping that I showed him I was completely fine and ready to make that body of his mine.

I sat at the dining table with Jamie, bouncing between studying and catching up with the kid engrossed in his book next to me. I kept a close watch on Tyler, who buzzed around the kitchen. Rice was cooking, bulk chicken and vegetables were in preparation, all part of his meal prep for both of us.

"Baby, are you sure you don't want any help?" I called out, seeing the frown deepening on his face as he monitored the food while reading a textbook, mumbling to himself.

"Yeah, nah, s'fine." He waved his hand in the air while reciting more information about muscle connections.

"Yeah, as in yes, you want help, or nah, you don't want help?"

His gaze shot to me, and I got the perfect view of his angry face—it was adorable. He was no doubt pissed at me for breaking his concentration. I'd learned the hard way that getting in the way of that man's hyperfocus was equivalent to trying to clip a small dog's nails—a guaranteed way for your fingers to get bitten.

"No, I am fine. If it was nah, yeah, then it would mean I need help," he elaborated like Aussie slang was common knowledge, returning to tending to the meal prep.

I could only watch his next move helplessly from my seat. Time seemed to slow, but I couldn't move quick enough. His eyes turned back to the textbook while his hand reached for the saucepan—missing the handle completely and grabbing the hot metal. I jumped up and rushed over as Tyler let out several choice swear words.

I cradled his hand, taking in the red lines on his finger and palm. I dragged the cursing man to the sink and shoved his hand under the cold water.

"You are juggling too many things, baby."

"Too many things that need to get done, Boston. Let me go; I need to tend to the food so we can eat."

"Yeah, nah," I said, taking in the amused sparkle in his eyes. "You stay where you are; I'll take the food off the stove." I didn't miss that maddening little quirk of his lip. I left him by the sink, elated that he listened to me while I finished the meal prep.

Another thing I learned about living with Tyler: he's the most disciplined man in the world. All his meals are thought out to give him the exact calories and nutrition he needs. He also tracks his calories burned so he knows how to adjust his diet accordingly. The guy was nuts. I'd never craved sugar more in my life.

Once the food was sorted, I returned my attention to Tyler. He was leaning against the counter looking at his injured hand I made my way over to him, looking at the angry red marks that would leave blisters on his dominant hand.

"Stay here." I went to grab my first aid kit from my hockey bag and returned to find him muttering to himself yet again.

"Fucking idiot," he mumbled with his head hanging low.

I stepped into a space, using a single finger to lift his gaze to mine. Not many people saw this side of Tyler Riley—the side that didn't have all his ducks in a row. But God, my man was his own worst critic. He never accepted failure; never accepted being anything but the best. Making mistakes… that led to this, him cursing himself for being an idiot. I didn't like it, not one bit.

"Hey, baby, guess what?"

"What," Tyler pouted, and I couldn't help the smile. Even angry he was fucking adorable.

"Even professional chefs burn their hands sometimes. You juggled cooking while trying to recite the entire chapter on muscle composition." Tyler huffed, and I caught it with my lips, kissing him hard enough to wipe that adorable frown away.

"Go sit down and relax for five, baby."

"I have to take Jamie to his class then I have to write an essay for my sports psych class, and I need to practice my stick handling because I lost that pass from Mouse earlier when I shouldn't have. And I want to re-watch the tape for Harvard's game before we play them again."

I leaned my head against his in exasperation. Did I mention the other reason we weren't having sex was that my guy didn't know when to stop? If he wasn't studying, he would help his brother, carting him to and from practice. Then he was watching tapes or playing with a stick and puck. His need for perfection on every field made me realize that he had little time for anything else.

Though every time I got him alone and tried to talk to him about it, he would drop to his knees and suck the words right out of me. Before I could reciprocate, he would crash only for his alarm to wake us up at fuck-me-o'-clock to do it all over again.

"You need a break, Ty. You never stop—ever."

"I can't. The moment I drop the ball, everything will turn to shit, Hunter."

I'd be lying if I said we hadn't had this conversation before.

"You sit down and do your essay," I commanded. He looked at me, posed for a fight. I could sense the words on the tip of his tongue. "This is not negotiable. James; you got your stuff together? I'll take you to practice."

"Yep! It's only an hour"s class, though. Tyler was going to stay and watch."

Crap on a broomstick. "I'll watch and record it for him. He needs to do his essay." Jamie shrugged and hitched his bag over his shoulder.

I saw Tyler's mind ticking, but I had him cornered. I kissed him quiet. "Essay. Now."

"But—-"

I dropped my voice so Jamie didn't hear. "The only but you get is from me, tonight. Let me help you, Aussie."

"Ugh, fine."

With a final kiss goodbye, I left his dorm room and took Jamie to practice.

I don't know why it had taken me so long to ever watch his brother fight. The kid was good—real good. I could see the trainers thinking the same thing.

I gave him a broad smile when he stepped up to me after. "Dude, that was awesome."

Jamie shrugged, which made me laugh because it was so much like Tyler. There was something about those boys that had them undermining how good they actually were.

"So, this is your dream—to be an MMA fighter?"

Another shrug. "Yeah, I guess."

In the short time I'd known Jamie, I realized he wasn't a man of many words. In his early teens—he was exactly that: a man trapped in a teenager's body.

"You guess?" I shook my head. "You are so much like your brother. You just whooped that guy's ass and he has to be at least five years older than you."

Jamie chuckled. "He just had bad form. You see it in guys who have come from boxing to MMA. They can throw a punch like a boss but don't have the technique from learning multiple disciplines. Give him a few years at the gym and Johnny will show him."

It didn't escape me that he was purposely avoiding answering the question.

"Jamie…"

That earned me a signature Riley eye roll. "I don't know. I thought I would fight competitively for a while. Then I'd become a volunteer firefighter like Dad and help him run his gym. But we had to sell it. Mum couldn't run it, Tyler didn't know how and I was too young. So, one of the coaches bought it off us. I haven't told Tyler any of this but it fell apart after it sold. I worked there, but Holden found another gym smaller, more professional kind-of how we once were, you know? I know if I told Ty this, he would stop everything to reclaim the gym and then give me my dream. It's what he offered in the first place: to quit hockey and run the gym until I was ready."

My eyes blew wide. Tyler giving up hockey? I couldn't imagine him without it, though I knew he would have done it for someone he loved.

"Mum stomped on the idea before he could even get it out of his mouth. I also vetoed it because Tyler is hockey; that's all he has done for himself. When he isn't doing hockey, he was helping me, or Mum, or Dad, or his friends. It's just who he is."

"Does he know you want to be a firefighter?"

Jamie laughed at that, "God no—and never tell him. Could you imagine? I'm surprised he still lets me fight. I am lucky I am good, because if I got beat up every session, I think he would be trying to get me into a safer hobby like… crocheting."

None of it surprised me. I kind of hoped that—for Tyler's sake—Jamie didn't go into firefighting. Really, on behalf of the man I loved, I hoped that Jamie would be wrapped in bubble wrap so he didn't have to lose anyone else.

As we drove back to the dorm, I directed the topic to safer grounds. Jamie told me about his plan to return to Australia in February for school, staying with his Auntie for the term. It hadn't been discussed with Tyler, but they planned to sell the family home and put everything in storage. Since Tyler was set to be in Boston for another two years—hopefully longer if he got a contract—she didn't see the point of keeping the house. With all the memories attached, Jamie didn't want to return either.

It dawned on me how much caring for Tyler made me learn to worry about others' feelings. Because right then, I suddenly was holding onto knowledge that could hurt him.

"You should tell him, James."

"I will—after the Frozen Four. He needs to have a clear head for that."

I nodded, worrying my lip.

I walked into Tyler's room, pleased to see the worry lines between his brow gone as he read over his essay.

"Hey, babe," he called without even looking my way. "How was Jamie's training?"

"Your brother is the new Daniel LaRusso.,"

Tyler laughed. "He does mixed martial arts, not karate."

I shrugged, plonking myself on his—our—bed. "Semantics. He whooped the ass of an eighteen-year-old. I don't think the coach wants him to go back to Australia."

Tyler stiffened a little at the mention of his brother leaving, and I instantly regretted the words. "Yeah, I don't want him to leave either, but he really can't stay in my dorm forever. He needs to go to school. There's little chance of a school shootings in Australia."

"I hate to admit it, but you got me there."

Tyler chuckled and lifted his finger, signaling he would only be a minute—but I was done waiting. I circled my arms around his shoulders, nuzzling into his neck. One hand met my forearm and squeezed. "Hi, babe," he said again. I hummed against his skin, knowing I'd never tire of hearing that. "Just submitting it, and then I am all yours."

"Shit, you got that done quick."

He shrugged. "You gave me the time I needed without distractions. Thank you." It never ceased to surprise me how easy it was to please Tyler Riley.

I stayed curled over his shoulders until he pressed submit, glad he didn't seem to mind my sudden onset of neediness. "Done."

It happened so quickly I couldn't react. Tyler moved and pushed me to the bed. His strong muscled thighs straddled me, and his hands found their way into my hair, wrenching my head back to make me look at him. His pupils were so blown that only a thin sliver of blue remained around the edges. I swallowed a grunt as his lips crashed into mine, biting, nipping, taking everything.

He could have it.

I fucking missed him. Every moment with Tyler Riley was one I would savor, but those stolen, heated moments were everything I lived for. He rocked his hips, grinding our erections together. If it weren't for his kisses swallowing the sound of my moans, I'd be worried about his brother hearing me.

"I need you so fucking bad, Boston."

He didn't have to tell me twice. In a rapid tornado of hands and limbs, clothes flew off, teeth biting and lips kissing each other's flesh as it became exposed. I scurried back to the headboard, grabbing for the lube in his bedside table. I lied down and invited him between my legs—only for him to shake his head. Silently he straddled me again. "I want you to take me like this," he whispered, before claiming my mouth with his.

I lubed up my fingers, sliding my way through his cheeks and pressing against his entrance. Tyler's breath hitched as I teased and taunted the puckered skin. His little whimpers were music to my ears. So much so, I felt the telltale dampness of precome against my stomach. I tried focusing, holding off my body's desire to explode before I could get inside him. I pushed through, curling my finger to the spot I knew well which turned Tyler into a crying, writhing mess. I added another finger, spreading and scissoring them inside him so he was ready. It had been a while, and I wanted this to be enjoyable for him— needed it to be. "Fuck, babe, I can't wait any longer, fuck me, please."

I was at his command. I leaned over to the drawer to get a condom, only for his hand to stop me.

"No."

I felt my eyes go wide "Baby, we …"

"I know we're clean, I trust you."

It was something I suggested a little while ago, especially since we were exclusive—but he wasn't ready. Now that he was, I wasn't going to deny him. My body responded by milking another drop of clear liquid onto my stomach. I slicked myself, then lined up my cockhead with his entrance. With my first around my shaft I squeezed, hard enough to stave off my orgasm at the simple thought of taking him bare.

I couldn't stifle a shout as he sank down in one smooth move, taking me to the hilt.

Fuuuck

Before words could leave at the feeling of Tyler's body strangling my naked cock his lips were on mine, hips rolling as he claimed his own pleasure. Between that, his mouth owning me and his hands roaming my body, my brain short-circuited.

"Fuck, baby, fuck," I swore, and he groaned as he found the perfect angle to hit that magic spot.

He drove home in a perfect dance of pleasure, where he pulsed around my dick with each hit of his prostate. I clenched his ass in my hands—though he needed no guidance. I knew I wasn't going to last much longer, and from the sounds he was making told me he wasn't either. I moved one hand to pump his dick in time to the rolling of his hips.

He broke first. I felt his body convulse on top of me, and with it, I crashed over the edge without a parachute. I thanked the sex gods when he came hard at the same time, his legs twitching with pleasure, the rhythm he once had now slow soft jerks as he rode our explosive high.

Tyler collapsed slowly to my chest, which was sticky from sweat and come. He slid to the side, still too scared to put too much weight on me. His lips kissed at the fading yellow bruises. He did that every night, kissing the marks as if he could make them go away.

He lay in silence.

"Baby?" I whispered, only to smile when I looked down and found him fast asleep.