4. Izzy

CHAPTER 4

IZZY

I wasn't waiting up for Spencer.

I wasn't that girl.

I wasn't the type to have one night with a guy, and suddenly we had to be joined at the hip.

It wasn't like that. I just couldn't sleep. The best thing for insomnia was steaming hot cocoa, so I was in the kitchen making a cup, doing it the slow way because that way was better. Not because Spencer might wander in, and maybe he'd want a cup, and we'd have some together.

I put a pot on to simmer, and a glass bowl inside it, with a handful of chocolate chips and a forkful of butter. While the chocolate melted, I heated the milk. I heated it slowly so it wouldn't scum over, not to give Spencer more time to get home. Not because, come on, he'd played a great game. It wasn't weird to stay up to tell him "good going." To leap into his arms and cling on. My hero!

I rolled my eyes at myself and stirred the chocolate and butter. The milk was hot now. Any more, and I'd burn it. I fetched a mug from the cupboard, then another, just in case.

He's celebrating, I told myself. He'll be out all night.

The front door clunked open, then it slammed shut. I froze with one hand out to turn off the stovetop.

"Leon? That you?"

"Nope. Disappointed?" Spencer came swaggering into the kitchen. He stole my wooden spoon and dipped it in the chocolate.

"Hey, no, that's hot!"

He licked it, then winced, then licked it again.

"Making hot chocolate?"

"Yeah."

"Can I get some?"

I plucked my spoon back and rinsed it clean, then I made us each a mug of piping hot chocolate. Spencer took a big slurp of his and groaned at the burn.

"Impatient," I said.

"Never was much for waiting."

I shot him a narrow look, searching for subtext, but he seemed absorbed in enjoying his drink. He took a slower sip and licked his lips. A shiver ran through me, and I willed it away. Last night had been fun, but I knew Spencer. It didn't mean anything. It didn't need to. I was moving on too, getting on with my life. If anything, last night had been a sort of goodbye, not to Spencer himself, but to this phase of our lives.

"Where's Leon?" he said.

"Working late, I think. Some office party."

Spencer nodded at that, and sipped more hot chocolate. "He's always home late from those. It's all the cleanup."

"I've told him a million times, he should let his crew do the scut work. He never sleeps anymore. He's got to be exhausted. Speaking of which, great game tonight."

Spencer puffed up and broke out in a grin. "You came. I saw you."

Warmth flared in my chest. "I thought you might have. I couldn't tell if you were waving or adjusting your helmet."

"Waving," he said. His gaze had gone distant. He scratched at his chin, and I almost snickered — thoughtful wasn't a look I saw much on Spencer. I guessed he was trying to decide what to say, how to touch on last night without hurting my feelings. What we did last night, it can't happen again. It might make things weird. Mess up our friendship.

Spencer frowned. "What?"

"Huh?"

"You're making a face." He pulled one to show me.

"I forgot cinnamon," I said, but made no move to grab any. Spencer was studying me, head cocked, half-smiling.

"Last night was great," he said. "I don't know what you're thinking, but for me, it was awesome. I think maybe us being together got me out of my head."

I stared, surprised. "Out of your head?" Of all the things he might've said, I hadn't foreseen that one. Was he saying our hookup had, what, saved his game?

"I went into that game today tense as all hell, same way I've been since the start of this season. Nothing was clicking, and then, I don't know. I looked up and saw you, and I thought ‘oh, hey, Izzy.' I thought how much fun we had, and I thought, man. When's the last time I had that much fun? When was the last time hockey was fun?"

"It's not fun anymore?"

Spencer stirred his hot chocolate. "It hasn't been lately. I'd started to dread it — not the game, but the fallout. What it would mean for me if I couldn't win. But I saw you tonight and I got this, this flash . This mental image of me as a kid, me playing street hockey, and…" He shook his head. "You might not believe this, but I felt this excitement. This anticipation, like I felt back then. And I think once I felt that, it spread through the team. Man, that sounds stupid." He let out a chuckle.

"It doesn't," I said. "Moods are contagious. Like when Leon gets grumpy, and soon we're all sniping."

"Leon," said Spencer, and his mouth turned down. He sipped more hot chocolate, as though to clear a bad taste. "Listen, about last night — you had fun, right?"

I bit my tongue. "Yeah."

"So it was good for both of us. Good for my game. No downside, really, if we were to…" His handsome brow furrowed as he searched for the words. "What would you think about, uh, if we?—"

"You want to be fuck buddies?"

"You gotta put it like that? "

"How about puck buddies, if I'm good for your game?"

He slammed down his mug so hard it sloshed over. Clapped his hand to his mouth to hold back a laugh.

"You nearly made me spray chocolate."

"I think you'll survive." I set down my own mug and skirted the island. Marched up to Spencer and slid my hands over his. "Listen, I'm into it, whatever you want to call it. But I think it's best if we keep it from Leon."

Spencer frowned. "Lie to him?"

"No. Just don't tell him. I don't know if he mentioned, but we weren't just college roommates. We go back a long way, right back to?—"

"Third grade, I know."

"So you know he's protective, and he'd get nosy. He'd want to know what your intentions are, our plans, our feelings. So if we're keeping it casual, we don't need all that. Neither does he, with his business taking off. He's got enough on his plate without us to fret over."

Spencer's expression turned mischievous, his lips quirking up. "So, we'd be sort of sneaking around?"

"Not sneaking , exactly, but?—"

"No, that's kind of hot. Like a secret affair." He dropped his voice to a dramatic pitch. "We pass in the hall, but Leon's watching. Our eyes meet. Our hearts race. We?—"

"Oh, shut up! "

"We brush fingertips and it's electric! Like static, but sexy."

"Shut up, shut up!"

We both broke down laughing, nudging into each other. Grabbing arms for balance as the giggles took over.

"Seriously," said Spencer, when his mirth had died down. "We'll make a few rules so he won't catch us. Like, okay, no sleepovers. We go back to our own rooms."

"What about the afterglow?"

"Well, after that. Thirty minutes' basking, no falling asleep."

I nodded. "That works. And Leon can't be home. No sneaky grab-ass while he's getting drinks, or making out in the laundry while he's in the kitchen. Nothing where he could hear us or come barging in."

"What about footsie under the table?" Spencer bumped his knee up against mine. Ran the tip of his finger up the back of my leg.

"No footsie," I said, my breath coming fast. "And no trying to get rid of him so we can get naked. We have to act normal. We… mm, that's nice."

Spencer was teasing me, nuzzling up on my neck. Breathing on my earlobe to make my spine tingle. His lips brushed my jawline, the ghost of a kiss.

"No clothes in weird places," he murmured in my ear. "No leaving our stuff in each other's bedrooms."

"Yeah, he comes in mine. Steals my good pens. Your shorts on the floor might, uh, might…" I lost my train of thought as Spencer pressed closer. His body felt somehow both hard and supple, coiled liquid power and marble-smooth muscle.

"He's out now," he said.

"Yeah. Yeah, he is."

"It's barely past midnight. We've got a while yet."

I set my hands on his shoulders and pushed him back through the kitchen, peppering him all the way with butterfly kisses. We lost our footing in the doorway and bounced off the wall, and Spencer held me steady, laughing into my hair. Somehow, we made it back to my bedroom, and he kicked the door shut. I pressed my hands to his cheeks and leaned up for a kiss. He tasted of chocolate and faintly of mint, and his hair still smelled of the frost of the rink.

"I used to think about this." He pressed me up on the door.

"When?"

"Since I met you. Your lips, you're so…"

Whatever he'd meant to say, I cut it off with a kiss. I needed more of the taste of him, his lips chapped from cold. His cheeks rough with stubble. His hands in my hair. He lifted me and spun me and we hit the side of my bed. Our knees buckled together and we went down in a tangle, my hair in his face, his leg between mine. I grabbed the front of his shirt and dragged him in closer. He groaned deep in his chest and rolled me onto my back.

"Hello," he said, smiling down from above me.

I reared up, bit his lip, then kissed him again. Darted my tongue over the spot where I'd bit him. He shuddered against me. I slid my hand up his shirt, up the curve of his spine, and I felt it again, that strength he kept hidden. Muscles twitched and rippled as my palm grazed his skin. I could feel their shapes, their hard definition. His body was perfect, how he moved, how he was. How he felt stretched against me, his weight on my legs.

"I've thought of you too," I said. "What you'd look like naked." I traced the line of his scapula with the tip of my finger and found the gnarl of a scar there angling up to his shoulder. He'd got that in college, if memory served, a fall on the ice. A skate flying wild. He'd shrugged it off, the price of his passion. Now I kissed my fingers and pressed them to his shoulder. He took my hand and slid it up to his face.

"Pull my hair," he said. "Twist it like last time."

I twisted. "You like that?"

"Mm, yeah, feels good." He rocked his hips up against me so I could feel just how good. I hooked my leg around him to trap him against me. We were so close, so entwined I felt when his heart raced. His cock swelled against me. His breath came quick and shallow. A wave of dizziness swept through me, and I realized I'd lost myself so completely that I'd forgotten to breathe. I panted as I stripped him, tore off his shirt, scrabbled his belt off him, pushed down his jeans. Spencer reached over me to rummage for a condom, then paused with his hand hanging out of the box.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, yeah, hurry."

He fumbled the condom and dropped it on the bedsheets. I snatched it up and tore off the wrapper. Spencer stiffened and moaned as I rolled it on him, thrust into my hand like he couldn't help it. Then he was on me, and I was on him. He shoved my skirt up, my panties to one side. I grabbed his cock and guided him inside me. He was on top, then we flipped over, and he leaned up to caress my chest as I rode him. He thumbed over one nipple, then pinched it hard, and when I moaned for him, he pinched it again. I pinched him back and he bit his own wrist, muffling the sound of his choked-back pleasure.

"Want you…" he rasped.

"Well, you've got me right here."

He flipped me over again, onto my back. Pinned me to the mattress with my wrists bunched together. I arched up against him and ground my hips in tight circles. Spencer made a rough sound, almost a growl. We hit a crescendo, our rhythm fast and urgent, and I grabbed his hair again, the nape of his neck. That pushed him over, and I tumbled with him, turning my head to scream into the pillow. If Spencer made a sound, I didn't hear it, caught up as I was in my own climax.

When I came down from it, I snuggled into his arms. "Half an hour, right?"

He made a puzzled sound, a Neanderthal grunt.

"Half an hour's basking, then you have to get out."

"Mm, yeah. Damn rules." He nosed up on my neck. "We need one of those… you know, from Doctor Who…"

I snorted. "A TARDIS?"

"Yeah, one of those. We'd just have a bed in there, and maybe a bathtub. Maybe a mini fridge, in case we got thirsty. But mostly a bed, and we'd go in there and do this. Spoon up for hours and not worry about Leon."

I craned back to look at him. "Really?"

"What?"

"I'd never have taken you for this much of a cuddler."

Spencer made a pff sound. "What, because I play hockey? Big, manly athlete can't want a hug?"

"I didn't say that."

"But you thought it. Admit it."

I had kind of thought it, if not in those words. I'd never thought he'd be the affectionate type. But having him draped over me was rather pleasant, all warm and comfy, his chin on my shoulder.

"I like it," I said. "But don't fall asleep."

"I won't," Spencer said, and yawned on my neck. I yawned too, closed my eyes, and stretched out against him. It occurred to me I might want to set an alarm, just in case somehow we both drifted off, but I'd no sooner thought it than I was dreaming.