Page 83 of Crease Collision

“That’s it,” he rasps. “Come hard, baby. I know you need to.”

The world whites out as a hoarse cry tears from my throat. Cum shoots out, covering his fist and striping my stomach.

“Fan också!” He drives into me as deep as he can and freezes, letting out a deep, harsh groan as he buries his face in my neck. I feel him pulsing inside me, filling the condom.

Afterward, we’re quiet for a long time, tangled and sweaty and panting. The musk of sex surrounds us.

“You are so special, Kai.” He gently bites the top of my shoulder, then licks it.

Slowly, he pulls out and rolls off me, then takes care of the condom. When he slips back into bed, he pulls me into his arms. I rest my head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat. Its steady rhythm connects us.

I trace a pattern on his belly and whisper, “I hate condoms.”

“Me too.”

I lift my head enough to look at him. “Let’s get tested. Then we can forget them.”

He nods, and his lips curve into a smile. “That’s the best idea I’ve heard all year.”

I settle onto his shoulder. “That may have been the best yet.”

He lets out a chuff of laughter and strokes my hair. “I agree.”

“I love this, Ozzy.”

“Come here,” he says, and we roll onto our sides facing each other.

He kisses me. This one is soft and lingering, full of words neither of us knows how to say.

Or is that me projecting?

Maybe he just wanted a kiss.

But I don’t think so.

This seems like things I’ve dreamed about, feelings I’ve pushed away for years.

That is more terrifying and more wonderful than I have the mental power to process right now. I close my eyes and fall back asleep.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

OSKAR

The team plane lands in Ottawa right before noon. I am glad this is the final stop on our road trip because my body is sore all over. In eight days, we’ve racked up four wins and a loss. At least we have today off before tomorrow night’s game, and I’ve never been more thankful for a recovery day.

My teammates keep saying I’ll get used to the grueling schedule.

“That’s part of what your rookie year’s about,” Kendrick told me once. “We all go through it.”

Kai’s advice seemed more realistic when I talked to him before the latest marathon.

“Kendrick’s right that you’ll get used to it,” he’d said, “but it’s all relative. The schedule stops seeming unusual, but we play a very physical sport. You never get used to being constantly worn out.”

The exhaustion lulls me into a deep sleep as soon as we arrive at the downtown Ottawa hotel. I don’t wake up until Carson and Kendrick bang on my door and inform me that I’m going with them for a walk.

They wait in the lobby, and after a quick shower, I find a message from Kai. The Condors have arrived home from their own roadie. We haven’t seen each other for… Fan, it’s been nearly two weeks.

KAI: How’s my big guy today? Tomorrow’s it, right? Then you’ll be home?