Page 28 of Tough Call

I shivered, goose bumps prickling every inch of my skin as I thought of all the ways he’d touched me in this bed that night. I was no stranger to sex—definitely not the inexperienced kid I’d been when we’d experimented together a lifetime ago—but Madars had taken me higher than I ever remembered being. The way he kissed. The way he sucked dick. The way he felt when he moved inside me. I closed my eyes and squirmed, my toes curling even as all my exhausted muscles reminded me I was in no condition to fuck anyone tonight.

Maybe not tonight, but goddammit, soon. I wanted him again, and I wasn’t so sure I could make it to the end of the Games before I did. Even if we couldn’t hook up—because God knew we were both going to be run through the physical wringer this week—I just needed to see him. Remind myself that the other night had been real, and so was the man responding to my texts.

I was losing my stupid mind over this man I’d almost forgotten about before this week. Did that mean it was long past time to get back into the dating game? Something I admittedly tended to neglect during hockey season?

Or did it mean something that had to do with Madars specifically?

No idea. All I knew in that moment was that I was going to physically unravel if I had to wait until after the Games to be in his company again.

So… fuck it. I grabbed my phone off the nightstand.

How does your evening look tomorrow? Think you have time to get a drink?

If I don’t have time, I’ll make time.

Yeah?

Absolutely. LMK when and where. I’ll be there.

I’ll text you tomorrow. Maybe 8 or 9? My last game is at 5.

I have practice at 4. Free after that.

Perfect. I’ll find a place and text you the address.

And, knowing I’d see Madars tomorrow, I finally gave in to exhaustion and slept like the dead.

It was almost nine-thirty the next evening when we were finally able to meet up. Madars got tied up with some media obligations and a team meeting. My last game of the day went into overtime. By the time I was finally showered and in normal clothing, I was terrified he was going to bail. He did, after all, have to practice early tomorrow morning. He’d had a game and a practice today on top of his media thing and the team meeting, and I wouldn’t have blamed him if he wasn’t up for a drink this late at night.

To my surprise and relief, though…

Madars

Got a table near the back. You want me to order you something?

My heart fluttered as I wrote back that I’d be there shortly and asked if he minded getting me a glass of wine. Though my legs ached and felt like they were being held together by chewing gum, I strode through the snowy night toward the place we’d agreed on. I didn’t care if I had to be carried back to my hotel afterward—I was not missing this chance to spend a little time with Madars.

And when I walked into the restaurant and found him, and his eyes lit up in the same moment my pulse started soaring… oh, yeah, being out this late was well worth it.

“Sorry I took so long,” I said as I neared the table.

“Not long at all.” He rose, touched my waist, and kissed my cheek. Just a brief, light peck—probably all he dared to do out in public, even at a restaurant this dimly lit and intimate.

Definitely all I dared to do, and it was enough to have my spine tingling and my dick stirring as I took my seat opposite him. What the hell? This was so not like me.

I’m usually not out with Madars, though. Grown-up, seriously hot Madars who’s looking at me like that. Fuuuck.

“I got you a white wine.” He gestured at the glass in front of me. “I don’t know wines very well, and I wasn’t sure if that was what you wanted, but it was what you had the other night, so…”

“It’s fine. It’s perfect.” I smiled as I picked up the glass. “Trust you to be that observant.”

Even the dim light couldn’t hide the blush on his cheeks. “Glad I got it right. I thought about waiting until you got here, but…” He trailed off as if he wasn’t sure how to finish the thought.

“All good. Thank you.” I sipped the wine, and ooh, yes, it was perfect. I’d never had Czech wine before this trip, and I made a mental note to see if I could take a few bottles back to Canada. That was something to think about when I wasn’t spending precious time with Madars, though. As I put the glass back down, I said, “So how is it going with the team?” I grimaced. “I’ve never understood how you guys can play in a tournament when you just started playing together as a team.”

Madars chuckled, absently turning his own wineglass between his long fingers. “Eh, it’s not so bad. It takes some getting used to, and we have to get our timing right and learn the coach’s system. But we know each other and we know how to play hockey, so…” He half-shrugged. “It’s a little like getting traded on to a new team mid-season, except everyone is new to the team.”

“That sounds stressful.”