Page 30 of Tough Call

“Sorry,” he panted. “I just… Fuck. I needed to do that.”

“Don’t apologize.” I pushed my hands into his back pockets and pulled his hips flush against mine. “Just wasn’t expecting it.”

“Well,” he whispered as he moved back in, “you know it’s coming this time.”

Oh, I did, and I was still caught off-guard by how hot he made me. I’d always been a sucker for men who were good kissers, and Madars was incredible. His wasn’t a rough, devouring kiss, but it still telegraphed just how much he wanted to devour me once we could get naked. Fucking hell, I wanted this mouth all over me. I wanted to taste every inch of him. If we made out and jerked each other off, if we frotted until we both lost our minds, if we fucked until we couldn’t move—I didn’t care as long as I was in bed with him. Ecstasy and orgasms were a foregone conclusion; I knew exactly how good sex with him could be, and his kiss right now promised it would be even better the next time.

God, why can’t it be tonight?

I knew why. I knew we both had to be professionals and adults, and we had to restrain ourselves.

But damn it, I couldn’t lie—if he said the word, I’d blow him right here in this alley or drag him back to my hotel room.

He didn’t, though, and I restrained myself too.

“Thanks for sneaking off with me for a while.” I rested my hands on his waist. “I couldn’t wait until the end of the Games.”

“I couldn’t either.” He pressed his hard-on against mine, laughing softly when my breath hitched. “I’m going to go crazy waiting for them to end. So we can really be alone.”

A shiver ran up my spine; neither of us had to spell out what was going to happen once we were alone, and just the thought of it all made my knees weak. I didn’t even remember being this tongue-tied over him back when I was a stupid, horny teenager. I was a grown-ass adult now, one whose virginity was a distant memory, but just the thought of waiting a few more days to get into bed with Madars… fuck. I hadn’t been this horny in my life, and knowing I couldn’t take him back to my room, get him naked, and fuck until we couldn’t move—God, that was going to drive me out of my mind.

“You think we’re going to make it through this week without going crazy?” I asked.

He laughed almost soundlessly. “I couldn’t make it through tonight without pulling you into an alley and kissing you. So… probably not?”

I laughed too, the sound coming out a little high. “We might damage the furniture when we finally get to be alone.”

The low growl that emerged from his throat almost melted me into a puddle at his feet.

“We might,” he purred. “I’ll pay for any damages, because they’ll be fucking worth it.” He slid his hand up into my hair as he drew me back in, and he murmured, “I swear, Connor, as soon as these Games are over…” Then his mouth was against mine, and my knees and spine turned to liquid. It wasn’t an aggressive, demanding kiss. It wasn’t messy or breathless. Just languid and perfect, like he wanted to savor this moment for as long as we could.

Fucking hell.

When he drew back this time, we were both shaking, our ragged breaths mingling between our lips.

“God, I can’t wait to get you alone,” he growled. “Like… really alone.”

“Same.” I slid my hands up his back. “This is going to be the longest week of my life.”

His laugh was almost soundless, and then he had my mouth again.

Fuck. Yeah. This really would be the longest week of my life.

But all the frustration would be worth it when I was finally in bed with Madars again.

CHAPTER 12

MADARS

When I woke up the next morning, I swore I was still dizzy from Connor’s kiss. I wanted him so damn bad, and I wasn’t sure how I was going to make it through this tournament without being naked with him again.

And I was also having some second thoughts about committing to joining my teammates to watch a seven o’clock game. It wouldn’t usually be a problem, but after I’d stayed out too late with Connor—and maybe had a bit too much wine with Connor—then struggled to sleep because I was thinking about Connor… Well, it was a good thing I wasn’t playing hockey this morning.

Luckily, I’d have plenty of time between watching Connor on the ice and needing to get my head in the game, so I’d be fine. Frustrated, sure, since I wasn’t going to be able to touch him today, but there I’d at least get to see him.

Despite being tired and maybe a little hungover, I managed to drag myself out of bed, go to practice, and then join my teammates in the stands. Though Latvia played Germany in the second game of the morning, we were there bright and early to watch the first. After all, that was Estonia against Czechia. One of my teammates was here to cheer on his sister, who was Latvia’s starting goaltender, and her wife, who played on Estonia’s blue line. Two of my other teammates were here to cheer on their wives—both forwards for Latvia. Some of the others guys were coming because it was hockey and we were rink rats.

Me? Well, I was a rink rat, and I fucking loved watching the women’s teams—holy shit, they were fast—but I was here this morning for one reason and one reason only. As we took our seats, I sent up a silent request to anyone who was listening that Connor would be officiating one of these games. I’d cheer on my country’s team and my teammates’ wives and sisters, but no one had to know I was also drooling over one of the refs.