Page 3 of Crease Collision

“Four days.”

“Wow. This is a hell of a way to start.”

“With you falling on me?”

“I was going to say the heat. But sure, let’s go with me almost crushing you.”

He lifts a brow. “Perhaps I will crush you next.”

My ears start buzzing, and my brain is back on its skating rink. I blurt out the first thing that pops into my head. “Are you an expert on America yet?”

“Not really, but I am learning. I have wanted to live here for a while.”

“What brings you to New York?” The question slips out before I can stop it.

“A job.”

I don’t ask what kind since he’s already told me more than I usually want to know. Keeping things simple is best. A little conversation, a night of great sex, and no pretending it means anything.

He brushes his knee against mine and leaves it there. The tangle of our leg hairs sends a jolt straight to my balls.

“I also hoped to meet good-looking men here,” he says. “This is now accomplished.”

My cheeks heat up again, so I try to distract him with a smirk. “Duly noted.”

“Only duly? That is all I get?”

He leans back, and when his shirt rides up, I gasp. His abs should be illegal in a family stadium.

“Noted for possible action.” I let my eyes say the rest as they travel over his body.

He bites his lip, and his eyes crinkle at the corners. “Action. I like this word. In Sweden it can mean different things. Is it the same here, tutor?”

My throat is so dry I have to force my voice out. “Yes. At least two things.”

“Ah.” He looks at my mouth, then at my lap, and finally at my eyes. “I hope you follow through with some action. We would have fun.”

“Looking good so far.” A foul ball flies off somewhere, but I don’t track it. “Don’t lose sight of the puck.”

He freezes. For a second, his smile holds, but his eyes are recalculating. I’m a little smug because I’ve thrown him off balance.

“No chance,” he says, in control again. “This is a game we both can win.”

I’m still thinking about that when he slides two fingers up the inside of my thigh to the hem of my shorts.

I should stop him. There are phones everywhere. With cameras. Fans know I’m gay, but I don’t want them thinking I let guys do this in public.

Except apparently I do, at least with Oskar. His fingers stay.

A woman in front of us opens a water bottle, giving me an idea.

“I’m thirsty,” I say. “You?”

“Very much so.” He winks so hard I’d laugh if we weren’t settling something so important.

“Let’s grab a beer, then.”

Bad decisions start this way. But something tells me a night with Oskar will be worth it.