Chapter One

Booker loved watching Dash on the ice. In all his years of coaching, he had never seen a player as driven. Dash turned into a different person when he moved from his wheelchair to the sled. Booker couldn't take his eyes off him. When there was no game, Dash was all smiles and laughter. Once that stick hit the ice against an opponent, he transformed. His face hardened. He turned intense. Fuck. Booker wanted to see that intensity in bed. It was wrong on many levels. He was Dash's coach. But Booker had been a fan of Dash before the accident had landed him in a wheelchair. Nothing had changed. Dash hadn't known he existed before that wreck, and he still didn't really see Booker. Only recently had Dash even looked at him when they spoke. They had gone to dinner recently with friends, but the night had seemed to end exactly as that: friends.

The buzzer sounded, ending the game. Booker imagined his hair stood on end from the pressure. Dash was so close to making the Paralympics. Booker wondered if he was more stressed about it than Dash. Dash took his victory lap, becoming the smiling fool again. Booker bit his lip to keep from smiling like an idiot as he watched.

He tried keeping his distance in the locker room, allowing Dash his moment to celebrate with his teammates. During the coach's speech, Dash's sexy cognac-colored eyes slid away from the head coach, Murphy, and focused on him. With everyone else's attention on Murphy, Booker stole his chance to silently mouth, "Proud of you."

Dash flashed a shy-looking smile and went back to paying attention to Murphy. That was another thing Booker couldn't get past. Dash was flawless, yet he acted as if no one saw him in a sexual light. God, Booker did. He had never wanted anyone as badly.

Booker waited until the locker room cleared before heading Dash's way. He swore Dash lingered too, but that was likely wishful thinking.

"Hey."

Dash looked his way, smiling. "Hey. You're moving slow tonight."

Booker didn't play coy. "Actually, I was waiting for you. I know the team plans to hit some local spot down the road, but I wondered if—maybe—you'd like to go to the hotel bar with me instead?"

To his surprise, Dash didn't miss a beat. "Honestly, I'd prefer that. The last time we were in town, the hotel bar had the best food. I'm starving."

As always, Dash's acceptance to spend time with him didn't sound like anything more than friends doing stuff together. Still, Booker tried hiding his disappointment. If they stayed as only friends, it was still nice. "Great. I'm sure the bus is waiting for us."

With a nod, Dash wheeled toward the tunnel. Together, they headed outside to the waiting bus. Booker climbed the steps while Dash waited for the driver to lower the lift for him. He grabbed a seat and purposely didn't watch Dash as the driver went through the process of ensuring Dash's chair wouldn't move throughout the trip. Booker honestly didn't know how to move past this friend zone. At the same time, he knew he shouldn't. While there was likely no terminology in Dash's contract preventing them from a relationship, they still had to work together. Booker loved this team. He had put his all into helping bring attention to sled hockey. The guys' perseverance deserved the same attention as the pro team everyone knew. Maybe he should stop dreaming they could be more. Dash obviously wasn't interested, and this was their careers. Booker looked out the window, trying to fight back the disappointment. He should be accustomed to being just slightly not good enough. From staying stuck in an assistant position to always being the wingman, Booker simply wasn't that special. It seemed this would be no different. Tonight was nothing new.

Some days were harder than others. There were days that felt impossible. Today had been a good day. Cold air and ice. The roar of the crowd. Those things kept Dash going. No matter how hard he tried, Dash couldn't stop staring at Booker. Booker didn't realize it, but he kept Dash waking up every day too. He looked at Dash. People never looked at Dash. Being in a wheelchair meant eyes skirted away or over him. Going from being a famous rugby player who got all the ass from whoever he wanted, to this was a fucking blow. The problem was, though, Dash had developed a bad habit of reading too much into people's attention now. He wanted to believe Booker's interest was in being more than friends. Dash was just scared. His ego and mental health had taken too many hits in the past few years. He couldn't handle another, especially from someone he had to see damn near every day.

Not to mention Booker was a bit of a mystery to him. He stared at the menu taped to the table like the bar had more than five food items. While he was confident and attentive in his coaching, he was a bit aloof outside the arena. Dash just couldn't get a read on the guy.

"You can share my mozzarella sticks."

Booker looked up with a smile. "Nah. I'm good."

Dash beamed at him, trying to make light. "Are you sure? The way you're staring at the menu says otherwise. I'm happy to feed you."

A soft, sexy laugh fell from Booker's lips. "Sorry. I'm not much of a conversationalist."

Dash nodded. "That's fine. I am. What do you do outside of coaching? I mean, I know you get tattoos and eat. What else is hiding behind that silence?" Booker had agreed to go with him to get his first tattoo. Dash had it booked, but it was still a couple of weeks away.

Booker shrugged. "I'm boring. What about you? Are you excited at the prospect of making the

Paralympics?"

Dash cocked his head to one side and studied Booker. "Why don't you like talking about yourself?"

Booker's gaze darted away as his expression turned uncomfortable. "Like I said, I'm not very exciting. I coach. Work on shit for the team. Go to the gym." His gaze moved back to hold Dash's stare. "Spend time with you."

Butterflies stirred in Dash's stomach. Booker hadn't mentioned spending time with anyone else. Dash didn't respond right away. He wanted to hold Booker's stare and silently beg Booker to see his interest. Dash couldn't make the first move in this situation. If he got shot down, not only might he not recover, there was no telling what he might do to his career. Maybe he would walk away from everything when this last blow hit. Dash's gaze moved over Booker's face, taking in his light brown eyes that were twice as amazing when the sun hit them. He smirked. "So spending time with me isn't that exciting?"

Booker bit his bottom lip, as if suppressing a smile. Hunger gnawed at Dash. Booker released his lip. Dash watched the color return. God. He wanted to taste that lip. "I amend my earlier statement. Spending time with you is the only stimulating part of my life."

Fuck. Word choices meant everything. Dash could barely breathe. "Same." Damn. Had he really said that? And in that breathless tone?

"Here you go. Mozzarella sticks and a Coke." The plate and glass appeared in front of Dash. "And a beer," the bartender added, setting a bottle in front of Booker. "Can I get you guys anything else?"

Booker looked away and focused on the man who delivered his drink. "I think we're good." His gaze swung back Dash's way. "Unless you need something."

Dash shook his head. It felt like a lie. He needed so much, he couldn't think of anything else but his desire.

Alone again, Booker stayed focused on him. Silence grew between them. Booker finally broke it. "Well, we've established we enjoy each other. What now?"

Dash shrugged. The motion felt weak. He couldn't imagine how it looked amongst all the innuendo. "You tell me."

Booker snatched one of Dash's cheese sticks. He took a bite and shrugged, looking entirely too happy with himself. "I say you eat, since you're starving. Then I'll finish my drink and we can go upstairs." His eyes screamed for Dash to read between the lines. Dash dipped his chin, agreeing to God only knew what. Fuck. The last time he had been this scared, he had woken up incapable of using his legs. He didn't know if he could do this.

No one could be more surprised than Booker. He hadn't planned this. Maybe he had hoped the night might end this way, but he never dreamed he would be the one to suggest they go upstairs. Dash had just looked so damn hungry. Booker hadn't possessed the strength to miss his shot. Unfortunately, Dash kind of looked like he might puke on the way to the elevator. That hurt Booker's chest.

Booker waited until they were alone inside the lift before speaking on the taboo. "We don't have to do this. If you've changed your mind or feel like I pressured you—"

"No." Dash's eyes burned with passion. "I want this." He swallowed. It looked like it hurt. "I want you. It's just I haven't been with anyone since this." He motioned toward his legs. "I just—" Dash looked defeated.

Booker bent over and stole a kiss. He kept it quick, since they didn't have much time before they reached their floor, but he made sure Dash understood Booker wanted him. That chair didn't matter one bit. Booker pulled away and held Dash's stare. "You can trust me."

Dash looked every bit as turned on as Booker felt. He nodded. "I know."

With a sharp nod, Booker straightened just in time for the elevator doors to open. Thankfully, none of the other players were in the hall. Booker led Dash to his room. He didn't ask and risk making Dash more uncomfortable. If Dash hadn't made love in years, then he likely had nothing with him for the situation, just in case. Booker was always prepared. He had been waiting for the day Dash said yes for years.

Booker held the door open for Dash, half expecting he wouldn't come inside. Dash wheeled his way through the door, looking determined. That was okay. Booker was closer to having his fantasy than ever before. He was too far gone to back down now. Booker had no problem taking control.

"You should probably take off your shirt."

At Dash's suggestion, Booker fought not to smile. Dash's expression was hot as hell. It was obvious he was determined to see this through. Booker pulled his shirt up and over his head. His entire life, Booker had been tall and too skinny. That latter detail made it easy for him to keep his abs looking decent, but he had never felt like much of a prize. Dash looked at him like he wasn't just a prize, but the prize.

Booker tossed his shirt aside. "Turnabout is fair play."

Dash removed his shirt. Booker almost swallowed his tongue. Between playing pro sled and having to use his upper body for everything, Dash was solid and sexy as fuck. Booker fought a whimper. God, he had never wanted anyone like this. They stared at each other.

After a moment, Dash shook his head. "Damn. You actually want me." He sounded almost puzzled.

Booker was the one who was truly confused. "Why wouldn't I? You're fucking amazing. Not only are you incredibly sexy, but you're fun to be around and you make me proud as hell."

Dash blinked. He backed his wheelchair parallel to the bed and set the brakes. He easily pulled himself into bed. The move was a sexy show of upper body strength. Booker watched the way his muscles rolled.

On his back, Dash met Booker's gaze. "You should probably join me. I've thought about kissing you way more than is probably healthy. We should do that."

Booker couldn't help his smile as he closed the distance between them. The thought of Dash fantasizing about him had him over the moon. He crawled onto the bed and straddled Dash's body. His gaze slid down Dash's cut torso.

"Damn." The breathless curse fell from his lips as he slowly lowered himself. Dash lifted his head and claimed Booker's mouth, as if he couldn't wait another second. His hands touched Booker's sides. Goosebumps skirted down his body. He craved this moment with this man. Booker thought about him too much. Dash had slowly become a sickness for him over the past few years. The guy hadn't even noticed. Booker would make sure Dash didn't look away now.

He poured his heart into the kiss. Dash had claimed he had thought about kissing Booker. He wanted to make Dash remember him forever. Damn. Dash had an amazing mouth. His tongue made Booker dream. They didn't rush. Booker couldn't stop curling his tongue around Dash's.

Dash's hands moved to the front of Booker's pants. Booker made room for him to set Booker's erection free. "Tell me how to make you fly."

Internally, Booker panicked a bit at Dash's demand. They hadn't talked about what Dash could and couldn't do. That seemed such an intrusive topic, but the moment was upon them. He went with saying just enough to force Dash to make the next call.

"I prefer bottoming, if that's what you're asking?"

A hum vibrated against his skin as Dash kissed his collarbone. "You should definitely ride my dick, then."

Relief poured through Booker. He had been prepared to do whatever it took to make Dash feel good. He moved, ensuring his lower body collided with Dash's. Booker had intentionally kept a few inches between them. Dash was hard for him. A stuttered breath escaped Booker.

Dash chuckled against Booker's skin. It sounded evil. "Yeah. I can still do that."

Damn. He didn't know what to say. Instead of saying anything that might ruin the mood, Booker sat back on his heels and went straight for the button on Dash's jeans.

Before he could unzip the zipper, Dash's hands covered his. Booker's gaze shot to his face. He watched the confidence bleed from Dash. "There is a fair amount of sensation loss. I don't know how this will go."

Booker held Dash's stare and slid the zipper down. "This isn't about sex."

Dash gave him a sharp nod. "Then get your pants off and find what we need."

While no doubt looking desperate, Booker leaped from the bed and headed for his overnight bag. He kicked his way out of his pants before grabbing the lube and a condom. When he turned back Dash's way, Dash's pants were on his wheelchair and the blankets covered him. He watched Booker's every move.

Booker turned into the self-conscious one as he closed the distance between them. He lifted the covers. As he climbed beneath, he straddled Dash's thighs. Booker kept his weight on his heels and his gaze locked on Dash's cock as he rolled the condom down his length. It was a nice dick. Perfect, actually. He wasn't so big that Booker feared for his life. Booker lubed the outside of the condom, enjoying the way Dash's erection slipped through his fingers.

With Dash's safety ensured, Booker shifted positions. He lowered his head and kissed Dash. This time, the move felt like love-making. Their tongues savored each other, moving slowly against each other. Booker positioned himself and led Dash's cock to his asshole. The tip bumped the tight ring of muscles surrounding his hole. Booker's stomach muscles clenched in anticipation. Dash's dick went soft in his hand.

Dash panicked beneath him. "Oh, fuck. I'm so sorry. Goddamn it. This is the first time I've tried this since my accident. I'm so fucking sorry."

Booker's heart ached. He swiped his lips across Dash's mouth, stopping the painful babbling. He did it again, hoping to keep Dash calm. "Shh. I'm here for you. Not the sex." He deepened their kiss for a moment before pulling away to keep up the flow of comforting words. "Just you. This isn't about an orgasm. I just want to be with you." He went back to kissing Dash. His body still burned, but his heart was full. Booker hadn't been just trying to make Dash feel better. He had pursued Dash, knowing his paralysis meant he might not be capable of having sex. Booker genuinely just wanted him.

Their kiss stayed almost loving. It was great to feel connected and wanted. He had Dash's focus. His time and attention were exactly the things he hoped for out of the night. It was enough.

Dash's hand slipped between their bodies. He stroked Booker's erection.

Booker turned his face away from their kiss. "You don't have to do that."

Warm lips brushed his ear. "I want to touch you. I need your cum on my skin."

A ragged-sounding breath escaped Booker, giving away how much he enjoyed Dash's touch. Dash's mouth moved to his neck. He sucked and bit. In seconds, Booker found himself moving against Dash's palm. The moment felt too one-sided. He hadn't wanted the night to go this way. Booker hated himself a little. He felt like he took from Dash, giving nothing back. Booker didn't want Dash to regret him. He had done nothing to make Dash come back for more. There was no stopping the building pressure when combined with the way Dash sucked his neck. A whine came from the back of his throat.

Dash's voice rumbled against his skin as he encouraged Booker. "That's it. I want you to come all over me. Blow for me, Booker. I need it."

He couldn't stop. Booker finally had Dash beneath him. It was Dash's hand wrapped around his dick. He was too close to the edge. A cry ripped from him as the first wave hit.

"Goddamn, Dash. Fuck."

Dash chuckled. "That's it, baby. Coat my skin." He pumped until Booker had nothing left to give. Their lips met. Heat poured between them. That sense of closeness Booker craved felt deeper than ever. He wanted to make Dash feel the same.

"Tell me what to do," Booker begged between kisses. "I want to make you happy."

"You're doing it. Keep kissing me."

That was what Booker did. He savored every second Dash gave him until the exhaustion won. Booker held Dash as he drifted away into dreamland. They looked like a beautiful beginning.