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Jesus, he hoped this wasn’t some kind of horrifying romcom setup gone wrong. Nico’s dick would shrivel up and fall off if he found out the GM traded a right-handed defenseman to get him laid. Nico also had a right hand. It operated fine. At least now that the bone had healed.
Crushing on any teammate would be stupid, but on the guy they’d paid to babysit him? That was just masochistic.
Something had made Kirschbaum look at their little goal celebration like it was the dessert table at a wedding and he’d brought the team nutritionist as his date.
The look on Nico’s face when he’d been banished to the press box made Ryan want to wrap him in a blanket, feed him hot chocolate, and pet his hair.
Ryan needed a break, which meant delicious sandwiches and Fast & Furious movie marathons. Sometimes a boy just needed to watch cars go fast and then explode.
“Nico, if you don’t come out, I’m going to come in. I haven’t been in a closet since 2007. Don’t make me do that.”
He picked a bag of peanuts like a good pro athlete and then, after a glance over his shoulder, a Mars bar, looking like a naughty child. Ryan wanted to buy him a case of Mars bars.
God, he was beautiful.
Ever since the other night, he’d been fighting off thoughts of having Ryan’s hands on him again. Obviously it had been too long since someone had touched him if he was this fixated on a friend. Even if he did have really nice hands.
Ryan pissed him off all the time. Nico was used to it. He might even like it a little.
How Nico could manage to seem like a befuddled puppy when looking like the brooding teen heartthrob of the week, Ryan did not know.
Nico pretended the wave of warmth that went through him was satisfaction at cheering up a friend and had nothing to do with Ryan in particular.
“Oh my God. I’m not sure if I should coo about how adorable you are or laugh at your crush.”
“We can stop on the way for coffee.” Ryan almost said I love you, but settled for “Best landlord ever.”
Nico found himself standing next to him. He raised his hand and tilted Ryan’s face up toward him. Ryan licked his lips. “If I got this wrong…,” he said. Ryan surged up and pulled Nico’s head down into a kiss.
He’d been lured in by Nico’s independence and determination and big sad blue eyes and gotten trapped by his sweetness and hidden sense of humor. He might as well enjoy it while it lasted.
Fuck, Nico was too good to be true. Sweet and sexy and eager to please. In a better universe, Ryan would keep him forever.
Nico curled toward him like a flower chasing the sun.
Nico had batted those big blue eyes and shredded every self-preservation instinct Ryan had. Whoops.
“So you like him enough to get your heart broken, but you’ve decided not to fight for him.”
“Don’t.” He hated to beg, but he didn’t have a choice. “Don’t what?” Nico argued. He took a step closer, touched Ryan’s elbow again. Ryan’s heart tripped in his chest. “Don’t tell you I love you?”
He was starting to feel like he’d shank a man for a ten-second hug from a grumpy German chess/hockey genius.
The thought of everyone knowing that Nico was his, and maybe even better, that he was Nico’s…. It was terrifying, but awesome.
Ryan laughed. Nico soaked it up. It was better like this, in person, than it had ever been on the phone. Like this, he could feel the warmth of the sound seeping into his skin.
“I didn’t care what the media thought when you were my fake boyfriend. You think I’m not gonna want to show you off now?”
Ryan leaned his forehead against Nico’s chest. “God, I—I really missed you.”
“I think I preferred ‘Grouch.’” “I’m kinda partial to ‘sweetheart.’” He smiled—a slow, soft thing. “Or ‘Nicky.’”
Nico’s heart tripped over itself. He wasn’t going to swoon. That would be dumb. He was just dehydrated.
Nico couldn’t help it. He took Ryan’s face in both hands and kissed him—hard, passionate, and way too short.
Nico pulled away. “Have fun tonight, Liebling,” he whispered and forced himself to step back.
“Idiot. You did just fine in Indianapolis. You’re an excellent boyfriend.” He bumped their foreheads together. “When you’re not overthinking and panicking.” “Yeah?” Ryan huffed. “Yeah. I mean, what is a boyfriend other than a best friend, a roommate, and a lover? You’re very good at being all those things.”
“What was that for?” Ryan asked when Nico pulled away at last. Well, Nico released his mouth—he was still crowded close and holding his face. He swiped his thumbs over Ryan’s cheekbones. “I could tell you, but you might stop breathing.” He kissed him again, softer, slower, closed-mouthed.
“I love you.” The elevator doors dinged open. Nico backed out of them, grinning. “I know.”
“Did I mention that I love you?” Nico smiled dopily. Ryan could relate. “A couple times.”
“No matter what the sweaters say, you and me? We’re always on the same team.”
