Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 87771 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87771 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
A few of the guys straightened. Shared looks. Nerves?
The controlled exterior cracked as we all saw the ruthless engine that fueled him. There was a reason why the Bobcats were constantly making the playoffs year after year. He worked his team like it was a chemistry equation, each guy a different variable he could tweak or trade. He had a reputation in the league for cutting guys midseason, with very little warning.
The stakes were high. I had to make sure I improved, that I kept my cool. I didn’t want to be the new guy who couldn’t even make it through an entire season. I also didn’t want to let the team down.
No. I had to get it together.
Such a fuckup.
“Alright,” Coach said. “Just finish up in here and get the hell to bed. We’ve got a long day tomorrow.”
Bed. Interesting. I glanced over to Gabe, who had already changed into a clean pair of black Nike shorts and a white tank top. He was talking to Dylan and Emmy, appearing pretty animated but voice low. I may have forgotten the advice he’d given me about not starting fights, but I certainly didn’t forget about that bet we had made. A loss meant I’d be licking my wounds over in Gabe’s hot tub. That wouldn’t be a terrible way of getting over such a shitty night.
Plus, there was that moment on the ice I wanted to ask him about. How he protected me without even blinking an eye. At the very least, I had to thank him for that.
And I had a couple of ideas on how I could show him my gratitude.
Was hooking up with him entirely irrational and possibly not the smartest idea I’ve ever had?
…Sure.
But I couldn’t deny that, one, Gabe was incredibly hot and intriguing, and we both liked the same things, and two—maybe most important of all—I was just horny, and I was ready to sleep with someone again. I was a twenty-seven-year-old man at the prime of his life who’d had his heart broken after making it through a pretty fucked-up long-term relationship. It was time I thought of myself and ignored the consequences until later. Gabe’s clear interest in me only helped embolden the choice to have a wild and guilt-free night with him.
Maybe losing wasn’t exactly that bad.
I pulled on my sneakers, shut my locker, threw on my duffel bag, and looked to find Gabe. He had his back to me and was still locked in that conversation, except it seemed to have gotten more intense, and now Chris and Soren had joined the group. I didn’t want to interrupt or look like I was eavesdropping.
The rest of the guys were beginning to filter out of the locker room. I decided to join the flow, walking out into the wide hallway, lit by a row of bright white fluorescent lights. I said bye to a couple of the guys and slowed down to a stop, leaning against the wall and casually scrolling through my phone, waiting for Gabe to finish up. I made the mistake of scrolling past a couple of photos of some hot guys, ramping up the hunger that was flowing through me right now, the heat that grew more intense as my thoughts grew dirtier and my briefs grew tighter.
Gabe on his back. Me on his lap. His biceps flexed. His hairy chest flushed. His cock pushing inside me. My toes curling and my heart racing and my hand stroking and my lips crashing against his and my nose filled with that intoxicating scent of his and—
The door to the locker room opened, and out walked the remaining guys, Gabe leading the pack. “Eli, shit, I’m sorry. You been waiting long?” he asked me, waving the other guys to go ahead. Dylan gave us a curious look as he said good night and walked away with Soren, Chris, and Emmy.
“No, not really. Wasn’t sure if I should wait, but figured that we had a bet to settle.”
Gabe’s hand went to the back of his neck, and his ocean-blue eyes dropped down to the floor. Immediately, I could sense something was off.
“Shit, Eli, listen, about that.”
I winced, already knowing what was coming.
“Something’s come up. I’ve got to rain check it.” He looked over my shoulder, likely checking to see if we were alone. “But trust me, I want you to come over. I want to spend a night with you.” He reached for my hand, and part of me wanted to give it to him, but a much louder part of me had me stuff it in the pocket of my shorts.
This was already messy. This was already a disappointment. I couldn’t handle any more of that. And a hand hold would feel far too intimate. It was something my ex would hold over my head as a sort of “treat.”