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“This is worse than getting punched in the face.” He takes the seat next to me. “Yes, well, as we established, you find being punched fun, so …” I want to argue with him that it’s not so much fun, but telling him that hurting makes me feel alive is probably not that much better.
I have to be at away games because I’m your bag bitch—” “Don’t use that term. It’s offensive.”
“Come on. It’s impossible to turn down a hot guy offering to tutor you.”
Over the years, they’ve steadily grown in popularity and fan base, and then along came Foster Grant. Insanely talented, yes, but also out and proud and completely confident in who he is.
Foster was only a freshman, and I was still in my ugly-duckling phase. I maybe, sort of, developed a crush, but Foster had no idea I even existed.
“No, no. They suck. And at this point, you wouldn’t even be mean to say it—it’s fact. Are they planning to play together against UVM, or do they think if they confuse the other side enough, they’ll be handed the win?”
“I don’t want to date the guy.” She pouts. “I just want him to spank me, Kole.”
I glance over at where Asher’s watching the guys on the ice with the kind of intensity that would melt me in the bedroom. “Oh, babe. Don’t we all?”
I’m a lying liar who lies.
Damn it. I’m catching the hockey.
Why do you care, anyway?” “We’re friends.” “You shouldn’t be friends with someone like me.” “You asked.” “Yeah, but I’m the idiot. You’re the one who’s supposed to make the right choices.”
“This better work. Because if they kill each other, your dad will kill me, and then my boyfriend will dig me up and kill me again for leaving him.”
I love that he doesn’t even question me. Dad might be disappointed in me when it comes to hockey, but he trusts me.
“Are you always so …” “The most annoyingly arrogant fuckboy in a fifty-mile radius at any one time? Yes. I polish my crown daily. Next question.”
“Do you want the excuse of always having to live up to my NHL star brother or the poor orphan card? I can play either.” “I want the truth.”
“Then why don’t we talk, which is what they obviously want us to do?” “Because that sounds like a healthy way to deal with conflict.” Simms keeps his face blank. “Oh, the horror.”
“Why are you like this? I’ve never met someone more …” “Incorrigible, frustrating—” “So emotionally unavailable I have to question if you’re a sociopath.”
“I guess we should start with what your first name is,” I say. “You don’t even know my first name?” he exclaims.
I screw up my face. “You don’t look like a Kieran.” “You don’t look like an asshole, but then you open your mouth. So …” “Touché.”
We probably just need to get comfortable with each other.” “How did you do it last year with Cohen?” “Drank lots and flirted with his boyfriend.”
“I was hoping Cohen would punch me in the face.” And when I realized that was never going to happen, I’d discovered it was fun to mess with Seth.
He steps forward and pats my cheek. “Good boy.”
I decide to tease him some more because I’ve finally found something that makes Kole Hogan uncomfortable. Me flirting with him.
His Adam’s apple bounces, and he looks away. “Like I said. Jocks aren’t my type.” “What about emotionally unavailable guys who treat people like shit? Because I’m that too. Don’t pigeonhole me, dude.”
After our ice cream date, Asher’s been busy with hockey and I’ve been busy with school, but most importantly, I’ve been busy trying to get images of us fucking out of my head.
Every time I jerk off lately, all I can think of is messy black hair and taunting green eyes. Then I’d turn up for practice to fulfill my equipment manager obligations and witness him do some boneheaded, testosterone-induced toxic masculinity shit, and I’d be so disappointed in myself.
And they’re all in suits. Hot men in suits are my weakness. Wait, hot men in general are my weakness.
It’s probably a good thing smiling for him is rare because damn, he’s possibly the most attractive man I’ve ever seen up close when he does.
“I’m premed. I told you I didn’t have much free time.” “Not even for your best friend?” he asks playfully. “Actually, I see Katey a fair bit.” “I was talking about me, buttmunch.”
“Maybe, uh, we could all hang out? You, me, and your friend.”
“Because if someone comes through the door to murder us, you’ll be the first victim.” Big, bad hockey player, folks. “Makes sense. If we were about to be murdered, I wouldn’t want to watch what was about to happen to me. I’d rather go first.”
“Pity I’m not your type … right?” “I’m prepared to make sacrifices in the name of education.”
and I have to admit, he’s proving he does actually have impulse control. He just never uses it.
I snort, because the idea of falling for Asher is actually ridiculous.
“What if I promise not to fall in love with you? Then will you let me suck your dick?”
I reach up to remove my glasses when Asher catches my hand. “Leave them.”
“Don’t tease me, Kole.” His hand finds my hair and grips it painfully. “I want to fuck that pretty mouth.”
I almost tear the button from my pants as I scramble to free myself, but before I can get my dick out, Asher swats my hand away. “Don’t you dare. That’s mine.”
Kole Hogan knows how to suck a dick.
“My mouth on your cock is a reward for you, not for me.” “Access to my body is a privilege. You’ll do well to remember that.” A sly look crosses his face, and damn it, he’s right.
But then I look at Kole’s face, and his hazel eyes look at me like I’m a better person than I really am, and for some fucked-up reason, I want to prove to him I could be the guy he thinks I am.
I lift my head, determined to swallow his cock. “Uh-huh. This is a two-part question.” “I fucking hate you.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” He tries to get me to slow down, but that’s so not going to happen. I’m bringing my A game at double the pace. “If you keep … Oh, shit. I’m gonna … No, wait, I had more questions.” He gasps. “Fuck. No. Ignore me. Keep going.”
Kole’s mouth becomes soft and lazy, and when I pull away, he follows and finishes with one last, sweet kiss. I wish I could say I hate it, but I don’t. It does a weird flippy thing in my gut.
Oh fuck, I blew Coach Hogan’s son.
I am thirsty for the guy.
but the thought of doing it here, maybe being caught, is hot as hell.
But youd be caught by yur dad....
“You ready to go, Kole?” “Coming, Dad.” I drop my voice. “Or I will be tomorrow night.” “Jesus.” Asher drops his head back against the wall. “I’m a dead man. Coach is going to kill me.” “Probably. So you might as well make sure it’s worth it.”
In my defense, he’s really pretty when he’s not scowling, and—oh, who am I kidding, he’s hot when he scowls too. But more importantly … his dick. Yes, that’s the most important part of this whole thing.
He was dressed as Batman, but under the clothes, it ended up being that French guy in bioengineering. With the manbun?” “I will never understand your fascina—” “And his girlfriend. She was Catwoman. It was eighteen hours of some weird DC fetish cosplay thing. But it was hot.”
