Page 55 of Playing His Game

Mo nodded. “And then I think you’ve earned a nap. I’ll drive you home tomorrow morning. Deal?”

Adam knew better than to refuse an offer that good. “Deal.”

On some level, Mo expected climbing into bed with Adam Murphy, onetime archnemesis, to be awkward.

But he couldn’t say it surprised him to find the opposite after they’d survived the torment of his parents and fucked it out against a wall. Mo handed Adam a stack of fluffy towels and his bathrobe and left him to shower. They reconvened in the kitchen, where Mo treated Adam to a feast of chicken strips from the freezer. He ate half the box right off the oven tray, leaning against Mo’s counter in his boxers, with Mo’s too-short, too-narrow bathrobe bunched awkwardly around his shoulders.

“Now I’m the one getting indigestion,” Mo joked.

Part of him still expected Adam to bristle. Instead, he just squirted another line of honey mustard directly onto a chicken finger. “This isn’t even that bad. In a couple weeks, we’ll get to the part of the season where I have to eat so much, I get tired of chewing.”

Mo might occasionally still feel the slightest twinge of regret over quitting hockey, but that sounded horrifying. “Then what, do you like throw the whole chicken in the blender?”

Shrugging, Adam devoured another chicken finger.

That was… Mo didn’t know. Though considering he’d personally reaped the benefit of Adam’s workout and nutrition plan, he probably didn’t have the right to feel vaguely ill about the way Adam put away protein.

“I’m not watching you drink chicken puree like a milkshake,” he said finally. “That’s beyond the scope of our fake relationship. You drink your shame smoothie in private.”

Adam polished off the last chicken finger, slid the baking sheet into the sink, and started the water. “If you can’t handle me at my shame smoothie, you don’t deserve me at my wall sex.”

“Speaking of wall sex…”

Adam turned his head and cocked one eyebrow. He looked… interested, like he’d agree to go another round. Which, Mo did want another round, but not rightnow. Right now, he wanted sleep. And also to give his thighs time to recover.

Mo cleared his throat and continued. “Real sex kind of goes against the fake dating.”

“Right.” Adam turned back to the sink. Was he disappointed? Was he hoping wall sex meant feelings?

“Don’t get me wrong, the sex was good, ten out of ten, would bang again?—”

Adam snorted. That was a good sign, right?

“—but I don’t want any wires crossed here.”

Adam set the tray aside to dry and turned to face him. “Mo, I’m not going to drop to one knee. I know casual sex is a thing. I have, on occasion, even had it before.”

Mo didn’t know what to say to that either. For some reason, hearing Adam casually talk about one-night stands was weird. The whole night had been one mindfuck after another. Instead of trying, he grabbed the dish towel so his pan wouldn’t rust and started drying.

“Besides, you’ve made your feelings clear. I know you’re not interested in dating a hockey player for real.”

“Right.” Of course, Adam had a good point. Why did he want to argue? Mo put away the pan and hung the dish towel. “So… wanna have more casual sex? I mean, we’re still fake dating, but orgasms would definitely make things more bearable in the long term.”

“Yes.” Adam nodded, but then bit his lip. “It’s late. Too late for me to go home, but sleepovers seem…”

“Like a horrible idea?” Mo quipped. “Agreed. Tonight is a freebie, your one shot at gracing my bed with your comatose presence. Take advantage while you can, sir.”

Adam rolled his eyes.

“Hey, you don’t know what you’ve been missing out on. My bed is a queen among beds! You will be sorry once you are banished from her!”

“Yeah, yeah. Can we go see Her Majesty now? I’m tired.”

Mo sniffed but herded him toward the aforementioned bed.

Naturally, Adam insisted on brushing his teeth first. Mo could’ve made fun of him, but he wouldn’t want to go to bed with chicken-finger breath either.

Or to sleep next to it, for that matter.