Page 59 of Hard Check
“You haven’t turned a page in forty-five minutes. I was watching.”
Dawson crossed his arms and let his weight settle against the opposite side of the alley. Narrow and dark enough that nobody on Main Street would see them unless they were looking. He let his shoulders drop.
“I keep thinking about Milwaukee,” Dawson said. He was looking at the pavement. “Walking around together, not giving a shit who saw.”
The teasing went out of Leo’s face. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Dawson uncrossed his arms because he didn’t know what to do with his hands and crossing them felt like holding himself back from something. “And your apartment after. I keep thinking about that too.”
Leo was quiet for a second. Then he shifted his weight off the wall and took a step closer, not all the way, just enough to cut the distance in half.
“You’re thinking about my apartment,” Leo said. His voice had dropped, and Dawson felt it in places that had no business responding to a sentence about real estate. “What exactly keeps running through your mind? My impeccable decorating sense? I mean, you were pretty captivated by that print over the couch.”
“Don’t fish.”
“I’m not fishing. I’m clarifying.” Another half-step. Close enough now that Dawson could see the streetlight in his eyes, the way his breath came out in a thin cloud between them. “Because if you’re thinking about the couch specifically, I’ve been thinking about that too. A lot.”
Dawson’s jaw tightened. His hands were at his sides now, and he could feel the pull to close the gap like a physical weight. Leo was right there. Three feet away in a dark alley, mouth soft, looking at him like he knew exactly what Dawson was fighting.
“We’re out in public,” Dawson pointed out. He tried to school his expression into irritation, but the arousal was winning. He wanted to be reckless, even if his words said otherwise.
“I know where we are.”
“Then stop moving closer.”
Leo stopped. But he didn’t step back. “What if I don’t want to?”
“Leo.”
“I’m not touching you.” Leo’s voice was low, unhurried, and it did something to the base of Dawson’s spine. “I’m just standing here. You’re the one who can’t stop looking at my mouth. You know what I think about?”
Leo reached down, making a show of adjusting the erection behind his jeans. “The way you pulled me onto your lap. Your hand around my cock. The sound you made when you came. God, do you have any idea how fucking sexy you are when you quit overthinking everything?”
“Don’t.”
“I’m just talking.”
“You’re not just talking, and you know it.”
Leo’s mouth curved. Not a grin. Something slower, more dangerous, and aimed right at him. “Come over after this. I want your hands on me again.”
Dawson exhaled hard through his nose. Every nerve in his body was pulling toward Leo, and the six feet of cold air between them felt like the thinnest barrier he’d ever tried to hold. He wanted to shove Leo against the wall and kiss him until neither of them could think straight, and the fact that he couldn’t, not here, not with the bar right there and half the team inside, made him want it more.
“I can’t tonight,” Dawson said. His voice came out rougher than he had intended.
“Can’t, or won’t?”
“Ethan’s expecting me back.”
Leo held his gaze for a beat too long. Then he leaned back against the wall, and something in the set of his shoulders shifted from pushing to patient. Dawson knew him well enough by now that he could see the hurt in Leo’s eyes.
How many times would he put off the inevitable before Leo quit pursuing him? When Dawson wasn’t being a cowardly ass, things between them were good. It was the closest thing to a relationship Dawson had ever had, and he didn’t want to screw it up.
But he would if he wasn’t careful.
“We’ve got a home game Saturday,” Leo said, quickly changing the subject. “At The Forum.”
“I know.”
