The Nature of the Game (Stick Side Book 2), page 19
Ash looked over his shoulder, scowled some more, and growled, “We’re leaving.”
They left. The walk back to Ash’s apartment was silent but for Ash’s stiff shoulders proclaiming his unhappiness with Dan, dinner, or the world at large. Who knew.
“Are you okay?”
“Just . . .” Ash gestured wildly, arms flying. “I’m trying to sort some stuff out. In my head.”
“O . . . kay.” Whatever that meant.
Reaching Ash’s apartment, Ash slammed the door behind them and whirled on Dan, hands on his hips. “Do you want to date women?”
“Like, right this second?” I only want to date you. “Not particularly.”
“What about the woman from The Tavern?”
“Who?”
“You know.” Ash’s gestured. “The one you were smiling at.”
“Why are you being weird?”
“I’m being weird.” Ash huffed and paced away. “You were the one eye-flirting while I took a two-minute bio break.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“No idea what I’m . . .” He trailed off, jaw ticking, his eyes fire and fury. Pacing back to Dan, he clamped a hand behind Dan’s head, pulled him forward, and kissed him.
Ash kissed him.
Ash kissed him.
Ash kissed him.
Dan stood shocked and immobile.
“Gonna kiss me back?” Ash murmured against Dan’s lips, walking him backward until his back hit the wall next to the door. “Or just stand there like a corpse?”
Pushing against Ash, Dan reversed their positions and kissed him back.
God. Yes. More. More. But why? Oh, who cared. He shut his brain off and went with it, consequences be damned.
Ash’s mouth was hot and wet and firm, and his hands were everywhere at once. Every part of him Ash touched and stroked felt like it was being touched and stroked for the first time. Parts of him he’d thought dead flared to life.
Ash bent his knees and sank down on the wall, bringing their heights in line. Dan could feel Ash’s heart beating furiously between them, just as fast as his.
He was light-headed and his tongue was in Ash’s mouth and the world was a million times brighter than it’d been mere minutes ago.
Ash kissed as if he was starving. Dan met every kiss with hunger of his own and held on for dear life.
Finally, finally he could run his hands through Ash’s hair. The gray was coarser than the brown had been; Dan couldn’t get enough of it. Ash inserted a leg between Dan’s thighs, igniting his senses. Dan ripped his mouth away to gasp in air, making Ash smile against his throat. Hands at Dan’s hips encouraged him to move, and the pressure of Ash’s thigh on his erection made him see stars.
“God.”
He dragged Ash’s mouth back to his.
Gentler this time. Quieter. More sensuous than frantic. Kiss after kiss after kiss.
Dan pulled back to look at Ash, breathing ragged, and ran a thumb along Ash’s jaw and over his lips. Ash sucked his thumb into his mouth, tongue swirling around the tip.
“You kissed me,” Dan choked around a gasp.
“Mm-hmm.”
“Why?”
Ash let Dan’s thumb pop out of his mouth. “Felt like it.”
It . . . wasn’t exactly what Dan wanted to hear. It wasn’t I missed you so much I had to kiss you before I died. It wasn’t You’re everything to me and I couldn’t wait another second.
Ash had felt like kissing him. Which, actually, wasn’t as bad as he thought. Ash had felt like it, so he’d gone for it. Dan could work with that. It was as good a start as any.
“Feel like kissing me again?” Dan asked, and he moved in, anticipating Ash’s response.
“Uh-huh.” Ash kissed him once, fast and hard, and stood in one smooth motion, hands going to Dan’s ass. “Feel like doing more than that.”
They were shirtless by the time they reached the bedroom.
Pantsless by the time Dan shoved Ash onto the bed.
Completely nude four seconds later.
Ash lay down and Dan straddled him, bringing their mouths together again. Ash had surprisingly fine chest hair between his pecs and a trail that led to his crotch.
“How is it,” Dan said, trailing his lips down Ash’s throat to the vulnerable area between his neck and shoulder, “that your chest hair is still brown?”
Ash hissed when Dan bit his nipple, hands clamping onto Dan’s butt. “I don’t really think about the logistics of it.”
They shouldn’t do this. Nothing had been resolved between them. But Ash flipped them over, spreading Dan’s legs apart and settling between them, licking a fiery path from Dan’s navel to his crotch, winding his tongue around the tip of Dan’s cock, and—
“Fuck, Ash. Please.”
Dan fisted the bedcover and held on for the ride.
It took all of his strength to keep his hips from gyrating, from fucking himself into Ash’s mouth when Ash swallowed him, sucking and sucking, and it had been so long, so long between them, that Dan was close to coming but he didn’t want to, not yet.
“Ash.” He tugged on Ash’s hair. “Ash, please. Please.”
“So impatient,” Ash said, crawling back up Dan’s body, hands running up Dan’s sides, making Dan giggle helplessly. “Still ticklish.”
Dan scowled at Ash’s smirk. “Don’t even think about it. Tell me you have stuff.”
“I have stuff.”
Ash reached into the nightstand and Dan groaned at the full-body contact. Ash was hard and built and hard and so warm and hard and his skin was damp with sweat. Did he mention hard? Dan was six years starved for Ash’s touch, Ash’s attention. The small niggle at the back of his mind that warned him that this was going to blow up in his face wouldn’t go away, but as Ash found the lube and a condom and started to prep him, Dan found himself uncaring of anything that might happen past this moment.
He was a sobbing mess, hips unable to remain still, flushed and overheated, by the time Ash finished prepping him and was putting on a condom.
“Now, Ash, now, now.”
Ash’s hands trembled as he widened Dan’s thighs and lined himself up, pushing in slowly, so slowly. Fully seated, Dan held his arms out and Ash fell on top of him, bracing himself on his arms.
Gazes met. There was desire in Ash’s eyes and pleasure and . . . fear? Before Dan could decipher it, Ash ducked his head, bit Dan’s collarbone, and said, “Can I?”
“God, yes.”
And then he moved.
He’d forgotten. Dan had completely forgotten what being with Ash was like. Or, if not forgotten, then he’d muted the knowledge. Being with Ash was equal parts amazing and terrifying.
Amazing—it felt like his entire body was going to come apart, his belly clenching, his heart pummeling his ribs, his hands urging Ash faster and faster, his skin hypersensitive, his nerves tingling . . . he was consumed with Ash.
Terrifying—the past collided with the present, and for one moment, one overwhelming moment, he couldn’t tell where he was, when he was. It didn’t matter, though. None of it mattered. Ash was finally opening up to him—if only with his body—and Dan gave him everything in return.
“I love you. I love you.”
Ash didn’t appear to have heard. He kept pumping, swearing against Dan’s neck, straining. Dan carded his fingers through his hair. “Come inside me,” he whispered in Ash’s ear.
“Fuck, Dan, gotta . . .”
“Yes, do it.”
Dan grabbed his own cock as Ash went rigid above him and groaned, limbs shaking. Watching Ash fly off the handle was better than any external stimulation, and Dan came right behind Ash.
Fuck.
Fuck.
What had he done?
Before he opened his eyes the next morning, Ash knew exactly what he’d find: Dan sprawled on his side next to him, face soft in sleep, one arm tucked under the pillow, the other outstretched toward Ash.
So much for pleasant, yet distant. Pleasant, yet distant had smacked him in the face with do me baby one more time.
Goddamn it. Ash scrubbed his face and swore under his breath.
Dan let out a little noise Ash refused to find adorable.
As quietly and quickly as he could, he dressed and left the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind him. He left a note on the counter—Gone to practice—grabbed his bag of gear, and was out the door less than three minutes after he’d awoken.
He consoled himself with the fact that he wasn’t hiding—he really did have practice.
Last night had been . . . Fuck. He shouldn’t have let it happen. Shouldn’t have let it get that far. But he’d seen that girl—woman—flirting with Dan at The Tavern, and he hadn’t been able to think. Dan wasn’t his; Ash didn’t have a say about who he did or didn’t date. But jealousy had roared, green and ugly, and he’d gone all caveman nobody can have you except me. It hadn’t helped that Dan had been so infuriatingly calm last night while Ash railed at him about the eye-flirting.
Twice more they’d had sex after that first time—a mutual blow job and then a lazy grind after Ash had gotten up to pee in the middle of the night. His dick was raw and sore, but the rest of him felt fucking amazing. He hadn’t had sex like that in a long time. His stomach tangled with adrenaline just thinking about it. He was a fucking superhero!
His head, though . . .
His head was still trying to get on board with the situation.
What did this mean for them?
And how was he supposed to figure it out when Dan was right there, in his space? Ash needed some alone time to sort shit out, but he couldn’t exactly send Dan away when the reason the man was here was to help him clean his place, could he?
Fuck. Maybe Dan would head back to his hotel this morning and he’d still be gone by the time Ash returned, giving Ash time to think. To breathe. To untangle his head and his heart and figure out what the hell he wanted.
What did he want? If he was honest with himself, what he really wanted was to turn back time six years, find out what Dan had been manipulated into doing, and then help him dig his way out of it.
Barring a sudden, miraculous appearance of a DeLorean capable of time travel, he wanted . . .
What?
He arrived at his team’s practice rink and was no closer to figuring it out. Practice ended, and he was no closer to figuring it out. He drove home with Alex and Carlie, carpooling in Alex’s car behind him, and he was no closer to figuring it out.
Dan’s rental car was still parked outside of Ash’s building on the street. Ash’s hands grasped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white with the strain. His chest felt like a bowling ball sat on it. Really, it was nice of Dan to stick around, but Ash’s head was about to blow off.
By now, Dan had probably showered in Ash’s shower; he’d smell like Ash. His shorts and T-shirt from yesterday were sweat-stained and filthy; he was most likely wearing Ash’s clothes.
Alex and Carlie followed him inside, where they found Dan in the kitchen cooking enough food to feed an army. Or three hungry hockey players. As Ash had predicted, Dan was indeed in a pair of Ash’s sweatpants and one of his T-shirts, both of which were much too big on him. His curls looked recently washed and clean and soft, and for some reason Ash couldn’t name, he resented Dan a little bit for making himself at home in Ash’s place. This was Ash’s space, his apartment. His house, his sanctuary, where he could unwind and take a load off away from the public eye. Dan’s level of comfort here, before Ash could make sense of his feelings, was making him twitchy.
“Hey!” Dan grinned at them from the stove where he was frying sausages. “I remembered you said Alex and Carlie were coming over today to help with the yard,” he said to Ash, “so I made lots.”
Lots included scrambled eggs, bacon, blueberry pancakes, and fruit, spread out on the island like a feast. Next to it all was a small stack of plates, four sets of cutlery, a handful of napkins, four empty glasses, and a jug of orange juice. Coffee was brewing on the kitchen counter. Everything looked and smelled amazing. Ash bit the inside of his cheek. He felt caged in, pressured from all sides.
“It’s Evan, right?” Dan extended a hand to Carlie. “I’m Dan.”
“I remember.”
Alex was trying to catch Ash’s eye.
Avoiding his gaze, Ash said, “Where’d you get all this food?”
“The grocery store,” Dan said, going back to the sausages.
“You went grocery shopping this morning?” By the tone of his voice, one might’ve thought he’d asked You murdered someone this morning?
Alex and Carlie appeared to want to blend in with the wall.
“Yes?” A question was written on Dan’s face, his good mood replaced with confusion and caution. “All you had was condiments and eggs.”
Alex shot him a smile. “This looks great, Dan, thank you.”
“Sure. I, uh . . . I mean, I figured you’d be hungry after practice, so . . .” Now everyone was trying to catch Ash’s eyes. “Anyway, dig in, I guess? While it’s warm? Everything’s ready.”
Damn it. Ash was being an ass and taking it out on Dan.
Space. He needed space.
He lifted the bag he’d dropped on the floor, and as much as he tried, he couldn’t dredge up a reassuring smile for Dan. “You guys go ahead and start. I’m just gonna put this in the bedroom.”
The bedroom. It smelled like sex. It reeked of sex. A small stain on the bedcover drew his attention, lube or come or both. Piled on the floor next to the dresser were their dirty clothes from yesterday, as if waiting for one of them to do the laundry. As if they lived together. The bed was haphazardly made, the covers rumpled. A condom wrapper was on the floor, half hidden by the nightstand. In the bathroom, a wet towel that wasn’t his hung over the shower door.
Every muscle in his body locked, and he only realized his fists were clenched when the strap of his bag dug into his palm.
It was too much. All of this was too much, and it was messing with his head, and what would happen when Dan went back to New York? Huh? Did Ash really think this would work out between them? It hadn’t the first time. What had changed in Dan’s life to make the possibility of them a reality for a second time? Nothing Ash had learned proved to him that things wouldn’t end just as badly this time as they had last time.
He was staring down a black, depthless hole with the knowledge that he had to go in, yet also knowing that he’d never find his way back out.
“Hey.”
Tension and an overwhelming sense of dread froze him in place at Dan’s voice. A cold ball formed in his stomach and radiated outward to his extremities.
“Are you okay?” Dan tugged the bag from Ash’s grip and set it aside. Then he took one of Ash’s hands, unballed the fist, and straightened Ash’s fingers out, one by one, massaging them as he did. “Did you have a bad practice?”
He’d had a great practice, actually, receiving nods of approval and pats on the back from the coaches. They had two back-to-back games starting tomorrow, a third game midweek, and then two back-to-back games in Orlando at the end of next week. Five more preseason games to prove that he deserved to play this year, that he was good enough to keep for next year.
He was ready to play for his life.
But he couldn’t do that when Dan was jumbling up his head and confusing him.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, and even to himself his voice sounded harsh and mean.
Dan’s brow furrowed. “I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
“No, I mean . . . What are you doing here? In Tampa?”
“I told you, I . . .” Dan was no longer massaging Ash’s fingers, though he still held his hand in both of his own. “I wanted to be here for you. After the storm.”
“Why? I didn’t ask you to come here. I don’t need you.”
“You . . .” His face paled and his hands went lax. Ash’s arm fell to his side. “I was . . . trying to help. I wanted to . . . Oh.” His entire body sagged with that oh. “But you’re right. I . . .” The way he said it—You’re right—it was like he’d just realized that he’d forced his presence on someone when it was unwanted in the first place. And even though that was exactly what Ash had meant with his words, he didn’t actually mean them. As Dan stepped back, bumping into the bed and bracing himself with a hand on it, which he immediately jerked back as if the cover had scorched him, Ash burned with shame hotter than the sun and—
“Dan—”
“No, you’re right, I . . .” Still appearing dazed, Dan searched Ash’s face for something. Ash had no idea what his expression said right now; whatever it was, it wasn’t what Dan was looking for. His entire body wilted. “I’m sorry,” he whispered roughly. “I didn’t mean—I just wanted—” He took in the room as if seeing it for the first time, wondering where he was and how he’d gotten here.
Ash knew he should do something, say something. Apologize, at the very least. But his words were a sandbank—dry and coarse.
“I’m sorry,” Dan repeated. With one last glassy look at Ash, he left the room. As if in a fog, he headed down the hallway, his posture the picture of bewilderment and anguish.
When he’d turned the corner and Ash could no longer see him, Ash slumped against the wall of his bedroom and took what felt like the first breath since he’d woken up this morning. It was tainted with regret and remorse and . . . loss. He hadn’t felt this way since I’m sorry, I can’t.
“Damn it.”
He moved fast, but it was too late. Dan’s shoes were already gone from where they’d rested next to the front door, and the sound of a car starting outside reached his ears.
Alex and Carlie—damn, Ash had forgotten they were here—gaped at the front door.
Ash punched the side of the fridge. “Damn it.”
Had he not known Alex as well as he did, known that the man had a heart of gold, the scowl on his face would’ve sent Ash running. “What the hell did you do?”
Defeated, he told them everything.
