Rachel runs off after the new kid and I’m left alone with Caleb. He’s standing there, my blood on the collar of his shirt, looking at me like I’m the answer to life’s great unanswered question. My heart races a mile a minute.
I just kissed Caleb. I just kissed a man. I kissed my best friend…in front of my girlfriend. And I liked it. Loved it. I want to kiss him again.
Okay, I’m officially freaking out.
Caleb’s eyes go wide as he watches me spin out. He knows me too well. Knows I’m a goddamn mess. He takes a step back. “Jake, it’s okay—”
“I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing!”
“I know,” he murmurs.
I drag my throbbing hands through my sweaty hair. “I’m freaking the fuck out, Cay.”
“I know,” he says again. “Jake, there’s no reason—”
“You’re my best fucking friend!”
My voice sounds oddly strangled. God, I was so sure when this finally happened, I’d be so much cooler about it. I’d say some cheesy line like, ‘Baby, you can manage my equipment any time.’ Then I’d wink just to make him laugh and we’d fall into each other—not that I’ve given it much thought.
Instead, Caleb is shrinking back, looking at me like I’m a cornered animal ready to strike. “Jake, we don’t have to—”
“I want more,” I squawk, stumbling forward on my skates. “I want more, Cay. I want you. But I’m fucking terrified to want you at the same time.”
I reach forward slapping my hands down on his shoulders, elbows locked. He can’t keep pulling away from me, but fuck if I’m ready to let myself get closer. I have to say this. Have to get it out before it eats me alive.
“Rachel’s my girl,” I say on a breath, chest heaving like I’ve just run a marathon. “I want her to love me and marry me and have my huge hockey babies. But I think you might be my guy, Cay. And I never thought I’d be the kind of guy to have a guy, you know what I mean? But you’re here, and you’re you, and you know me better than anyone,” I say with a surprised shake of my head. “You might know me better than Amy at this point.”
“Likely,” he mutters, slipping his hands in his pockets, unwilling to take a step closer or reciprocate my touch.
I have to keep going. I have to get it out. He deserves this. I scramble to think of the right words. “I tell everyone my favorite movie is The Hangover but it’s not. You know the real answer, Cay.”
He huffs a laugh. “Oh god, really? Practical Magic? Still?”
“Fucking of course that’s my favorite movie!” I say, pushing off him with both hands. “Amy made me watch it like a thousand times growing up. It’s amazing. I want that house, Cay.”
“I know.”
“And that’s the only reason I learned to flip pancakes in the air,” I add. “Girls go crazy for that shit. It’s like pussy magic to them.”
“I know. I’ve seen you in action,” he replies.
“I don’t want to mess this up,” I admit, my gaze locked on him. He’s still in arm’s reach but I’m afraid to touch him. Afraid to break this.
He holds my gaze, his own expression softening.
I’ve never been attracted to men. Not once in my life can I remember sitting there thinking, ‘Hey, that guy’s so handsome, I’d let him spoon me.’ Even looking at Caleb now, I’m not struck senseless by his beauty. I’m not drawn to the allure of his rippling pectorals or his fancy pierced cock.
Fuck, I’m the worst lover ever, right? This is why I hate labels. I hate the performance. The expectation. I hate that I’m standing here thinking about how I’m not attracted to my guy.
But I am.
The truth hits me, and I feel like I’m spinning out all over again. I’m so attracted to Caleb, it’s not even funny. I’m just not attracted to the way he looks. Don’t get me wrong, he’s objectively a ten. But I’m attracted to…him. His unwavering loyalty, his patience, his sense of humor. I’m attracted to the way he pretends to be full when we go out for sushi so I can finish what’s on his plate. I love the way he sets up the TV to record my favorite cooking shows when we’re gone for away games.
“Nothing has to change, Jake,” he says. “We can go on just as before. We can just be with Rachel and not each other. I have no expectations—”
“Kiss me again,” I hear myself say.
“What?”
I hold his dark gaze, heart hammering in my chest. “You fucking heard me, Cay. Shut that door. Then get over here, and kiss me like I’m the last man you’ll ever kiss for the rest of your lucky fucking life.”
The energy in the room turns on a dime as Cay goes still as a statue. His entire body morphs from passive to possessive. Tearing his gaze from me, he spins around and moves to the door, shutting it with a sharp snap. The sound rattles my bones.
Oh, it is so fucking on.
But then he just stands there, one palm pressed flat against the wood of the door, not moving. For the briefest of moments, I lose my nerve.
I misread him. He doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want me. Why would he—
Then he spins around, his eyes like black coals as he crosses the room in two strides, both hands coming up to cup my face as he drags me down. I barely have time to suck in a breath before his mouth is on mine and he’s claiming all my air in a fevered kiss.
I groan, loving the press of his body so close to mine. This kiss is even better than the first one. I feel his strength with each press of his lips, his need to dominate buried just beneath the surface of his iron self-control. I want him unraveled. I want him undone.
With one hand gripping his shoulder, I drop my other hand between us and cup his hard cock. He groans, pressing his hips into my hand. He can’t help himself. I feel desperate to do the same.
“This is mine,” I growl. “Do anything you want with Rachel. Please god, if you’re listening, let me witness it. Let me be there,” I tease, my lips against Caleb’s mouth, sharing his air. “But no other men. This is my cock, Caleb. I ride it. I suck it. I fuck it. It’s mine. Promise me that, and I’ll give you anything.”
He leans back, looking into my eyes, his parted lips wet with my kisses. Then he drops his hands to my hips and jerks me forward. “I want everything, Jake. Every piece of you.”
We fall back together, kissing like two men dying of hunger. As we kiss, my hand slips inside the top of his pants with barely enough room to wrap around his dick. I don’t have the space to jerk it, so I just hold on and squeeze, letting him move his hips in search of some friction.
Then he shoves my shoulders, sending me stumbling back until I hit the exam table with my hip. I slip my hand out of his pants, both hands gripping to the table’s edge as I steady myself.
Cay tugs up my jersey with one hand, his other dropping to my hockey pants, fingers finding the buckle of my belt. The sound of that soft click fills my senses as I feel the pants loosen. Then he drops his fingers down to the tie.
“Here, let me,” I murmur, trying to take over for him. Fuck, I feel like a fifteen-year-old virgin, fingers fumbling. This is crazy. Why am I so nervous? I’ve sucked his cock; I’ve fucked his ass. But here I am, hands shaking, like this is my first time.
He catches me by the wrist and holds me still as he gazes up at me. “Let me,” he murmurs.
“It’s complicated,” I say, thinking of all the layers trapping me—jock and garter, hockey pants, shin pads, socks, chest protector, jersey. I’m taped into my damn socks from the outside. I’m still wearing my skates—
“Jake…”
I look down at him, chest fluttering with nerves.
“I know how to undress you,” he says with half a smile.
Fuck, of course he does. He played hockey for twenty years. He’s my damn equipment manager. I huff a nervous laugh and nod.
“I only want one thing,” he murmurs, his fingers working lose the laces of my pants as he tips up on his toes, kissing me.
I groan, my hands gripping his shoulders as I let him work me open. Both his hands slip inside my padded pants, fingers snagging the top of my jock. He sucks my bottom lip, teasing with his teeth as he tugs on the elastic waistband with his left hand, his right diving inside to fist my hard cock.
We both groan, my body going limp as he works his fist slowly up and down my shaft. His hand is rough, but I don’t fucking care. It’s Caleb and he’s touching me and he’s kissing me, and I never want him to stop.
“Keep kissing me,” he pants against my lips. “That’s all I want. Jake, please—”
I grab his face with both hands, drowning him in my kisses. I give him everything, holding nothing back. My sweat is drying on my face, leaving our kisses tasting salty. I’m grimy and bloody and if I don’t get out of this kit, I’ll start to fucking stink, but I don’t care. Caleb just said ‘kiss me’ and no force on earth will stop me.
There’s not much he can do other than work my cock one-handed, but it’s enough. Fuck, is it enough. I’m wound so tight from the game, from the fight, from this emotional release a decade in the making. Caleb is mine. He wants to be mine.
“Cay,” I pant, breaking our kiss. My hips press back against the table as I hold still, his thumb brushing over the tip of my dick, smearing my precum. I bite my lip with a groan, eyes shut tight. As I open them, he’s still standing there. “I love you,” I whisper.
His hand stills on my dick. “Jake—”
“I love you,” I say again, more confidence in my voice this time. “I’m in love with you, Cay.”
He sighs, his shoulders relaxing as he leans in, cupping my sweaty, bleeding face with his free hand. “Fucking finally. A guy can only hold out for so long.”
We both laugh, our lips finding each other as he presses in, his fist working my cock again.
The rattle of the doorknob is the only warning we have before the door swings open. “Hey Sanford, you in here—”
Caleb does his best to shove off me and step back, his hand slipping from my pants. He doesn’t turn around, so he can’t see the look on Jerry’s face as he stands there in the doorway, taking in the scene.
He can’t, but I can. Good ole Jerry’s mouth opens wide like he’s a damn cartoon character. There’s nothing to see as we’re both fully clothed, but there’s everything to know. And fuck, but he knows.
“I—I’ll just come back,” he squawks, turning on his heel and rushing away.
“Jer, wait!” Caleb calls. “Fuck,” he mutters. His gaze darts to me, worry in his eyes as he shakes his head. “He’s a fucking sieve, Jake. He’ll tell everyone—”
“Hey,” I soothe, hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay—”
“It’s not fucking okay,” he snaps, slapping my arm away. “The whole team will know—”
“Good.”
“What?” he says on a breath, dark eyes wide.
I just shrug. “We want this, right? We all want out. You, me, Rach, Mars. We want to go public. So let him tell the guys.”
“No.” He shakes his head. “No, we were going public about us all dating Rachel. We’re not doing this, Jake. You’re not coming out. Being polyamorous will be more than enough of a publicity nightmare.”
I study his face. “Do you not want people to know about us too?”
“Jake,” he sighs with a shake of his head.
I’m trying really hard to pretend I’ll be cool either way, but I’m totally not. I need him to want me out loud. I can’t fucking stand the idea of more secrets, more hiding. Jake Compton is coming out. I’m bi and I’m poly and I’ve never been happier in my life. That’s gotta mean something, right?
“Is it your job?” I say. “Are you worried they’ll can you? We’ll sign the disclosure forms. We can do this totally above board. And everyone on the team already calls us DLPs. It’s not like they’ll be that surprised,” I add with a nervous laugh. “But…if you’re worried—”
“You think I’m worried about me,” he says, cutting me off. “Jake, I don’t give a fuck about my job or my reputation or fucking any of it. I’d quit right now.” He steps forward, hands on my shoulder pads. “But you’ve been bi for all of two seconds. I’ve been out for years. It’s not easy—”
“But it is easy,” I say. “Loving you, loving Rach, it’s the easiest thing I’ve ever done, Cay. Even having Mars around just feels…right. Am I right? Tell me you feel it too.”
“Of course, I do,” he says quickly. “But Jake, us feeling right together—”
“Is the only thing that matters,” I say, cutting him off. “Your approval, your love, Rachel’s love—they are the only things that matter to me, Caleb.”
He lets out a shaky breath, panic still lacing his features.
“Besides, it’s not like I’m coming out as bi and open for business,” I add. “My business is firmly closed. In fact, I’m about to be the worst openly bi player in pro sports history because my gayness begins and ends with you. You’re it for me, Cay. You’re the only guy for me. She’s my girl, and you’re my guy, and Mars is…Mars,” I add with a shrug. “Please don’t make me hide this. If I say I’m willing to risk it, let me make that choice.”
Caleb steps back, shaking his head. “This is so fucking crazy. What the hell are we doing?”
I drop my hands to my hockey pants, buckling them shut and flipping my jersey down with a smile. “Just you wait. I’m gonna love you so fucking hard, Cay. And I’m gonna do it out loud…whether the hockey world likes it or not.”
