Page 53 of Game Misconduct

“No, you go for supermodels, right?”

“Models,” Leif admitted. “I don’t think anyone I’ve been involved with has reached the level of supermodel.”

Tanner waved a hand vaguely. “You know what I mean. You don’t get involved with hockey players.”

“Well,” Leif said. “I mean, I can’t saynever. But it’s rare. And definitely no one on a rival team.”

“Until me. Cause I’m special.” Tanner fluttered his lashes.

Leif bit back the urge to say something that was unkind to people with special needs. He knew better. “You’re something,” he said instead.

“We hooked up last summer,” Tanner said slowly, shifting into a cross-legged position, the covers draped over his lap. “And did perfectly fine when we played against each other last season.”

“I know.”

“So why’s it different now?”

Leif glanced away.Because now I know what your skin tastes like when you’re sweaty. And I know you scrunch up your nose when you get comfortable in bed, he thought.

He cleared his throat. “I don’t know. Just seems like it’ll be … confusing is all.”

“Why? You worried you’ll kiss me across the faceoff circle?” Tanner teased.

Leif snorted and glanced back at him. “No. Besides, you never take faceoffs. You’re a defenseman.”

“Okay, so I don’t do it often,” Tanner admitted. “But sometimes in a 5-on-3 or whatever, I do.”

“Fine, notnever. But you get my point.”

“Yeah, you’re afraid you’re going to get so horny when you pin me against the board you pop a boner in your cup.”

“Ugh, why am I even having sex with you?” Leif muttered. “You’re so fucking annoying.”

“You’re so into that and you can’t hide it anymore,” Tanner said, shifting on the bed and walking on his knees over to Leif. He straddled his thighs and sat heavily on them.

All one hundred and eighty-eight pounds of him, or whatever. Not that Leif knew Tanner’s stats by heart or anything.

Leif reached out, lacing his fingers together against Tanner’s lower back. “Maybe I’m afraid you’ll be so annoying that I punch you in the face and your nose will be too swollen to give me a blowjob tomorrow night. You know, the one you’ll owe me after the Nordic Teamwin.”

“Aww, I think you’re confused,” Tanner said with a cheeky smile. “You mean the ass eating you’ll givemeafter Team USA destroys you.”

“Not a chance.”

Tanner’s face fell. “Really? You aren’t into the idea of rimming me? I mean, no pressure if you aren’t. I get that it’s not everyone’s thing but?—”

“As long as you shower first, I’ll eat your ass,” Leif said with a sigh. “But there’s no chance of Team USA destroying us.”

There was, in fact, a very high probability of that. Team USA was a heavy favorite to win the tournament. But Leif wasn’t going to admit that aloud.

Tanner cupped his cheeks. “My poor, sweet, delusional Norwegian. You are so wrong. We are gonna smoke you guys.”

Leif went hot, but he wasn’t quite sure if it was because he was pissed about the idea of a Team USA win or because Tanner had called him his Norwegian. He should hate it, but the weird squirmy feeling in his gut told him that might not be one-hundred-percent true.

The trash talking led to wrestling, which turned into sex again and by the time Tanner gave him one last kiss before he slipped out of Leif’s room to go back to his own, Leif had forgotten all about his nerves.

But the following day as he prepared for the game, he felt jittery.

Ola Jansson, the other winger on the top line for the Nordic Team, shot him a look as he paced around the locker room. “Are you okay?”