Page 16 of Tough Call

Stopped.

Vanished except for the soft, warm contact of Connor’s lips against mine.

For a few seconds, we were back in his family’s hot tub, a couple of shy kids tentatively crossing lines for the very first time. Uncertain. Clueless. Cautiously testing the water to see what happened next.

But then Connor’s hand moved to the back of my neck, and his soft touch turned to a firm grip in the same moment he deepened the kiss. His tongue slipped past my lips, and we weren’t those shy kids anymore. We were two grown men who’d tasted enough to know what we wanted, and suddenly we were kissing with the kind of barely restrained hunger that rarely ended without orgasms.

And holy fuck, this man was an amazing kisser. He was aggressive in a way that took me by surprise and almost had me coming in my pants. The way he held onto my neck and explored my mouth, the hungry little moans—God, more.

He was the one who decided when we came up for air, and I was trembling when he did.

“Jesus,” I panted.

Connor laughed breathlessly. “Something like that.” His hand tightened on the back of my neck, and I swear he breathed me into another kiss. Only for a moment, though, before he broke away and murmured, “You know, instead of walking you back to your hotel, we’re already at my hotel.”

I drew back and looked in his eyes. “Is that an invitation?”

He swept his tongue across his lips. “That’s probably a more dignified way of saying ‘I’m this close to begging you to come upstairs.’”

I couldn’t help groaning as I pulled him back in, and his kiss underscored just how close he was to begging. He was greedy and trembling, and if he asked me to, I’d blow him right here in the car.

Except… maybe not in a parking garage with my Team Latvia jacket on full display.

I broke away this time and whispered, “Upstairs?”

Connor grinned. “Upstairs.”

CHAPTER 7

CONNOR

In my mind, we bolted from the car to the elevator, went straight up to my room, and had each other naked in two minutes flat.

In reality, we hung back in the car for a few minutes to calm ourselves down. Our half-zipped jackets could hide the most incriminating issues, but we at least needed to unruffle our hair and maybe not look quite so flustered and out of breath.

We both knew what was going to happen once we were behind closed doors. At the same time, I didn’t actually know. We’d only done so much when we were younger. Beyond what I’d gleaned from kissing and some clumsy handjobs, I had no idea what this man liked in bed.

Guess I was going to find out tonight, and there was something exhilarating about that. About reconnecting with my old friend, and this also being a completely new experience.

When we were as composed as we were going to get, we stepped out of the car and strode casually (but quickly) toward the elevator. On the way down the hall toward my room, we kept a platonic distance between us. Couldn’t be too careful, especially with our jackets announcing our affiliation with the Games.

At my door, we both paused to look up and down the hall. No one.

I opened it and gestured for him to step inside, and then I followed.

And as soon as the door was closed…

“Fuck,” Madars growled an instant before he kissed me up against the door. His hands were all over me. Mine were all over him. Through jackets and jeans, our hard-ons rubbed together, and I thought I was going to melt to the damn floor.

“Bed,” I managed to say. “Let’s get—bed.”

“Good idea.”

Not that we let each other go. Still kissing, we pushed off the door and started across the room, tugging at clothes as we explored each other’s mouths. From the door to the bed, we left a trail of jackets, shoes, and shirts. I was ready to drag him down onto the mattress, but he wisely stopped to strip off the last of his clothes, and I did the same.

I was glad, too. Not just because we’d be naked when we got into bed, but because I got this amazing view of his physique. Oh my God. Madars had always been fit thanks to hockey, but almost a decade as a pro had sculpted him to perfection. He was lean and compact, every groove and contour testifying to countless hours in the gym and on the ice. On top of that, some incredibly talented tattoo artists had left their mark, covering one powerful arm in a full sleeve and wrapping intricate lines around the right side of his ribcage.

And oh, that hard dick definitely had my attention. Especially when he started stroking it, grinning at me as he looked me up and down the same way I’d been looking at him.