Page 30 of Rookie Moves

The puck slides into the empty net, lighting the lamp and putting us two goals ahead.

A shriek of excitement leaves my lips of its own volition as I throw my hands in the air. The bench erupts in celebration. Someone slaps my back and ruffles my head, but nothing can tear my eyes away from Tyler. The sight of his wide grin behind his bubble has my pulse thumping wildly, and when he heads toward the bench to exchange fist bumps, it takes everything in me not to grab him and haul him into my arms. The look of pure happiness radiating in his eyes when our gazes lock has my heart swelling in my chest.

Tyler deserves to have this feeling all the time, and I’m determined to help him find what that is before the end of our arrangement.

The sense of desperation coming from the Western Michigan bench is obvious when I take to the ice for my final shift. Their passes are sloppy. The disconnect between their players is making them look like amateurs instead of one of the best collegiate programs, and as the clock counts down the final ten seconds, their heads hang in defeat on the bench.

The buzzer sounds, and we swarm Winslow in front of the net. I know we’ve still got to face Denver tomorrow, but we’re so close I can almost taste it.

Pulling myself out of the huddle, I glance around the ice, searching for the one face I want to celebrate with more than anyone. And like he was looking for me too, Tyler stands there, a broad grin on his face and his arms stretched out wide. My smile is instant, and I skate over to him, wrapping my arms around his torso.

“You were fucking amazing, Colbs,” he says into the side of my head.

Laughing, I lift my head and lean in until our cages are touching. “That goal? Fuck, that was so hot.”

His smirk is almost sinful.

“Yeah? Now you know how I feel every time I watch you play,” he teases, giving my ass a slap.

Any other time, I would look around, check our surroundings to see if anyone noticed, but here on the ice, I’m not concerned. It’s the norm to slap each other’s asses, out here or in the locker room. But with Tyler, and the secret we share with each other, it feels like something else.

I bite down on the corner of my lip, staring at him with a silent question. I want more tonight.

Something flashes in his eyes that I’m unable to decipher, but he gives a subtle nod before we’re pulled into the fray of more celebrations, followed by the handshake line.

Before I can make it back to the locker room, I’m dragged into speaking to a reporter alongside Liam. I give the usual spiel of how hard we’ve worked this season and how proud I am to play for such a solid team.

Thankfully, they don’t bring up the draft or ask any awkward questions that make me want to hide in the nearest cubby, and by the time I hit the showers, my mind has already put the game behind me. All I can think about is how far I want to go with Tyler tonight.

It would be irresponsible to have penetrative sex tonight, especially with us playing again tomorrow. Denver aren’t going to go down without putting on a tough fight, which leaves handjobs and blowjobs.

I think I’m ready for that. I mean, sure, I’ve never touched another cock apart from my own, but how different can it be? Jerking someone else instead of myself? Blowjobs, on the other hand, that’s completely new territory, but one I’m not entirely afraid of.

Closing my eyes under the warm spray, the image of Tyler taking me into his mouth has me biting back a groan. Blood rushes down to my cock, and it’s almost like I can feel the stroke of his roughened palm over my length. Then the image morphs to me wrapping my hand around Tyler. My fingers flex at my side, wanting to feel the weight of him in my hand.

Maybe guiding him into my mouth to feel him on my tongue.

An involuntary gasp gets stuck in my throat. My eyes shoot open, and I quickly look over my shoulder. There’s no one else in here apart from Winslow on the far end, but he’s too busy talking to Fleming through the entryway to the locker room.

Holy fuck. What has gotten into me? Now is not the time to be thinking about this. If anyone saw me chubbing up in the showers, they’d never let me live it down. Let alone if they knew I was getting hard over images of our defenseman.

Angling my body away from Winslow, I give my cock a quick squeeze with my soapy hand before turning the temperature down as far as it will go. The blast of cold water kills my growing boner instantly. After ten seconds, I switch off the water and grab my towel to head back into the locker room.

I avoid making eye contact with anyone as I walk back to my stall. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Tyler looking in my direction, but I keep my gaze fixed firmly on the floor.

If I take one look at him, I’m either going to chub up behind my towel, or I’m going to burst into flames.

Neither are appropriate scenarios right now.

I manage to get dressed without breaking my staring contest with the rubber floor, and I’m slipping my feet into my shoes when Coach Vaughn walks into the locker room. He grabs all of our attention with a single clap of his hands.

“I’m proud of you guys. We’ve got dinner arranged back at the hotel, then I want you all to take an easy night because we’ve got to do it all again tomorrow,” he says, then points one finger around the room. “I mean it. Rest up, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

My gaze collides with Tyler’s, and we both exchange a knowing smirk.

If only he knew.

CHAPTER EIGHT