Page 43 of Tough Call

I couldn’t help shivering. “Well. You’d better rehab the hell out of that knee, then.”

When he laughed, all the sadness and exhaustion seemed to flee, and that gorgeous smile had me ready to break out my phone and start booking flights.

“After we leave Prague,” I said, “we’ll stay in touch. And this summer, I’m all yours.”

Oh God, his little smile made my toes curl. I really was so stupid for the way this man looked at me. For the way I could still see the boy I’d crushed on and made out with years ago, and also the man he’d become.

“Stay with me tonight.” I caressed his cheek. “I know we can’t do anything. But stay here.”

His brow pinched. “But we can’t…”

“We’ll get to that later.” Carding my fingers through his hair, I kissed him softly. “I just want to be with you right now.”

That smile came back to life, but only for a second. “I, uh…” He swallowed. “I don’t have my things. They’re back at…”

Fuck. Right. The other hotel.

“I can go collect them for you.”

His eyebrows shot up. “You—really?”

I nodded. “Even if we were just friends, I still wouldn’t want you to go hobbling all the way back there. What if you put your crutch on some ice or something?”

Madars grimaced as if he hadn’t considered that.

I squeezed his hand. “Give me your room key. You get comfortable here. I’ll go get everything you need.”

I expected him to protest some more. Instead, he took his wallet out of his pocket and tugged the key free. “Room 303.”

“303. Got it.” I pocketed the keycard, kissed his cheek, then started to get up to get my own wallet.

He snagged my arm, though, and he tugged me back in. “Connor…”

I met his gaze. “Hmm?”

He curved his hand behind my neck and drew me the rest of the way in so he could claim my mouth. It wasn’t a deep, aggressive kiss, but it was intense in its own way. Soft and gentle and all-consuming.

By the time he let me go, I was breathless and so was he.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“Don’t mention it.” I dropped a light kiss on his lips. “I’ll be right back.”

The next morning was a first.

For all the times Madars and I had crept into each other’s beds during the night, we’d never dared stay there until morning. My parents had been fine with me being gay, but I didn’t imagine it would go over well if they found out I was fooling around with the hockey player who’d billeted with our family. So we’d never taken the chance.

But today, I opened my eyes to a gray, snowy morning in Prague and the most amazing thing I’d ever seen—Madars still asleep beside me. I loved that—loved being beside him—but also?

Holy shit, this man was hot.

Stubble darkened his sharp jaw. His tattoo sleeve and the ink on his ribs were on full display. His hair was messy in a way that reminded me of when he’d just taken off his helmet.

Or when I’d been running my fingers through it in the heat of the moment.

That thought gave me goose bumps, and I squirmed beneath the sheet. Shame about his knee, because I wanted this man so damn bad. We’d hooked up one time since we’d reconnected. One perfect, scorching hot time. I wanted more, damn it.

Spain. We’d have more in Spain. That was still months away, and I’d probably lose my damn mind in the meantime, but we’d get there.