Chapter 23

CHAPTER 23

KAYDEN

I wanted to stay mad. At Mad. He'd ghosted me for weeks. Well, I ghosted him too. Still, he was the one who didn't want to talk about what happened that night. He couldn't even look me in the eye, in class, or on the ice.

I left his room that night, and I'd been walking around in a fog ever since. Thank fuck for the routine of workouts and practice. But even that wasn't enough to get my concentration back. And barely passing those midterms pushed my self-doubt to the brink. Turns out, I sucked at everything that mattered at my age; school and sex.

Maddox sat on the floor of my room, his T-shirt wet and clinging to his abs. Instead of acting like a jerk, I offered my hand.

I waited. And waited.

Finally, he grabbed hold of it. His palm met mine and the shockwave that rocked my body brought me right back to the night of the party. That kiss we shared was not a fluke. Not the kiss, not the hand job, none of it.

I hauled him up off the floor. Only now he was standing, and with me sitting, his denim-covered dick was right in front of my face. Fuck, don't think about his cock. How could I not? It's all I'd been thinking about for weeks.

Then he threw off his wet T-shirt, and his abs were front and center. The ones I'd come all over. My cum, his. My dirty mind started racing, my earlier panic all but forgotten.

"Uh, what are you?—"

"Care to share?" he asked.

"Huh?"

All the blood rushed south so fast I couldn't hardly think. Or hear.

"A shirt? Can you spare one? You know, since it's your fault I'm wet," he sniped.

"Yeah, uh, dresser. Second drawer."

Maddox stalked across the room, and I tracked every movement like I was watching my opponent on the ice, readying myself, planning my next move. Only, he wasn't my opponent. He was the guy I wanted to fuck.

I let out a loud groan and fell back on my bed, covering my eyes.

"Are you okay?" He asked. "Are you still having problems breathing?"

Fuck yes.

"Sort of." I looked over and he was still half naked. "Put a shirt on already."

"Hey, I'm the bitchy one," he reminded me. "Knock it off."

"I'll knock it off when you put some clothes on," I grumbled.

When Maddox turned away, I quickly adjusted myself. But I couldn't calm my dick down. I grabbed a fleece blanket and pulled it over my lap. Maddox glanced back over his shoulder and gave me a pointed look. Nothing new there.

"Show me your test results," he barked.

"No." I shook my head. "No way. It's humiliating enough that I barely passed. What did you get? A hundred?"

Maddox paused. "We're not talking about me."

"Is this a pity project for you?" I snapped.

"We've already been through this. Shut up already and listen to me."

Maddox pulled out my favorite T-shirt, one that I'd had forever. The original navy blue was now grey, and it sported a lobster holding a beer in its claws. The shirt fit me perfectly, but it was big on him. Still, I swallowed hard when he put it on. It looked good, better than on me. Like it was made for him. Then again, he could wear anything and make it look cool.

He sauntered over and sat down beside me.

"I got ninety-seven, alright," he admitted. "And you're not a fucking pity project. I…I want to help you. I might be a cranky pain in the ass, but I'm not a monster."

I stared into his eyes, intense as always. Dark, and full of secrets. He was wary. Of me? Of letting people see the kindness in him? Why?

"I never said you were," I muttered. "But I feel so dumb compared to you."

"Don't ever use that word to describe yourself," Maddox implored, leaning closer. "And remember Coach's latest speech? I'm not into the rah-rah, woo-woo shit, but he's right. If you go into a game with a defeatist mindset, it's already over. You might as well stay home."

"Hockey's different," I argued. "I'm good at that."

"You're going to get your eighty-five. We just need to sit down and focus on the methods that make it easier for you to interpret the material. That's all."

I nodded, his insistence sparking hope. Maybe Mad was right.

"You should consider changing your major from computer science to psychology," I offered.

Maddox snorted. "No thanks. I've had enough therapy to know I'm not the empathetic kind."

Therapy? For what? Then I remembered the tattoos on his shoulders. Remembrance. Vigilance. Every time I learned something new about him, I wanted to learn more. One question always led to another.

Maddox leaned back on my bed, lying down, hands under his head. He looked damn good on my bed. What would it feel like if I was stretched out naked over him? Kissing him? Coming with him?

I began sweating. A lot. Was it my hormones or was I coming down with a bug?

"Are we going to talk about, you know, that night?" he mumbled.

He rolled over, facing me, and the bed shook. Then I imagined the bed shaking for a much filthier reason.

"What?"

"Kay."

I ran a hand through my hair, holding my head again.

"You said you couldn't. That's why I left you alone. I figured you wanted to forget. That you didn't like what we did."

"Are you fucking kidding? Forget that kiss?" he bit out. "It was my first. There's no forgetting that. And it was hot. More than hot. Jesus, we were going at each other like animals. We nearly broke my chair in the process."

I laughed at that. I'd never be able to look at an office chair the same way.

"Yeah, we did."

Maddox licked his lips, and I remembered exactly how he tasted, and how those lips felt on mine. Not the drinking, not the high… nothing could make me forget that kiss, either. It wasn't my first, but it was the hottest. And what was worse? I wanted another taste. More than one.

"Stop staring at me like that," he growled and suddenly sat up. Then he slid off the bed and paced in front of me. "And what happened that night… happened. But it's done. It can't happen again. We're teammates, for fuck's sake. If anyone else finds out?—"

"I know," I sighed.

It would be a fucking mess. One I didn't need. Figured. The first person I really wanted, who wanted me, and I couldn't do anything about it.

Or, we could fool around in secret? Who would that hurt? No one.

"Or—" I started.

"Kay."

"What?" I looked up.

I fought the urge to reach for him. My roommate wasn't around. We were alone. We had this small but surprisingly sturdy bed. And I wanted to get naked. I wanted Mad. And I wanted to forget about school, and scholarships, and anything except feeling good.

"Don't even think about it," he bit out. "Let's get started on a plan for your finals."

I heard the words coming out of his mouth, but I wasn't paying attention. Instead, I threw off the heavy blanket and then my t-shirt.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Maddox hissed.

"Getting comfortable. It's warm in here."

"It's not that hot. And like you told me earlier, put the shirt back on."

"Why? Does my naked chest bother you?" I teased.

"Don't say naked."

I leaned back on my forearms, legs splayed wide. There was no hiding the bulge in my jeans. Another few seconds and my dick was going to rip right through this denim. And I didn't miss the way Maddox's eyes roamed over me, the way he licked his lips.

"Come here," I whispered and crooked one finger.

Since when did I tempt anyone into bed? Like, never.

Like, now.

"No." Maddox stood at the edge, in between my legs. "Get up. We're going to the library."

"But I feel lightheaded."

No shit. All the blood in my body was in my dick.

"Are you dizzy?" Maddox asked.

"No. But I might need a kiss."

Mad's reaction was just what I figured. He rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"Get up. Grab your shit."

He headed for the door.

"Aren't you gonna wait for me?" I asked.

"In the hallway. Put a shirt on and get that ," he pointed to my crotch. "Under control."

"Give me five minutes."

"Five? More like one."

"Three!" I called out before he slammed the door.

I ran into the bathroom, unzipped, and took myself in hand. No way was this boner going away on its own. I fumbled for the bottle of moisturizer and squirted a glob in my hand, then jacked off with hard, frantic strokes. Imagining Maddox was kissing me again, jerking me off, sucking me off. Holy fuck, did I want him to suck me off. And then I pictured him kneeling behind me, eating my ass. Jesus, I wanted that too. Then I'd turn around and return the favor.

Fuck, fuck, that was hot.

I wondered how it would feel to have his fingers in my ass, his cock. My asshole clenched tight, my curiosity a runaway train. One filthy image after another pushed my climax to the edge, my balls drawing up high.

Replaying that kiss, it was like Mad was right here with me, taking control of my mouth, and giving me all the pleasure.

"Oh God. Yes!"

My orgasm unleashed, one intense wave after another, my body jerking, ropes of cum shooting all over the sink. My aim was off and cum dripped down the counter to the floor.

"Shit," I moaned, trying to catch my breath.

Grabbing a towel, I wiped off the sink, turned the water on full blast, and washed the rest of the cum away. Then I splashed my face, cleaned up, and zipped up. My legs were shaky, and my hands too, but at least my anxiety was gone.

I sauntered out to my bedroom, threw on a fleece jacket and my puffer vest. Grabbing my backpack, I headed for the door.

Maddox was leaning up against the opposite wall, arms crossed, a knowing smirk on his face.

"You good now?" he asked.

"Oh, yeah."

"Oh, Jesus."

"What? You told me to get it under control. I did. Fastest hand job in history. But at least now I can concentrate."

Maddox pushed off the wall and started walking away.

"Try that before your next exam," he called out over his shoulder.

Man, he was smart.