Unrivaled, page 9
Max grinned. “What’s better than proving me wrong?”
“Trick question.”
“Exactly.”
After that, Grady’s ascent up the Warped Wall was almost anticlimactic. Max wolf-whistled while he made the victory V with his arms.
Mission accomplished.
Part one of the mission, at least.
Max scrubbed his hair again and dropped the towel in the industrial-size bin. Then he grabbed a spare set of rings and climbed onto the first platform.
“Hey!” Grady shouted across the gym. “What are you doing? I won!”
“What, so you think we’re going home now?” After what he spent renting out this place? Well, what Grady spent. “Patience, Grasshopper.”
This would be more challenging now that his shoes were wet, but Max could do it. He shook out his muscles.
Grady descended the wall and watched from the base of the first platform. “Are you a glutton for punishment or something?”
Yes, but I’m saving that reveal for later. “You don’t think I can do it?” Max tsked. “Grady, Grady, Grady. Anything you can do, I can do better.”
“If you really want to fall in the water again—”
Max ignored him and sprinted across the benches. This time he made sure to stick to the middle.
He barely paused before launching into the rings. One, two, three, four, five, and he was across. The Shrinking Steps were tricky with wet shoes, but he didn’t slip until the final one, and he landed on his feet on the platform.
Then the Salmon Ladder—he hated that thing; his core felt like it was on fire and his triceps were always jelly by the end, not to mention keeping his grip on the rope afterward gave him trouble. But he knew how to use his lower body to swing from grip to grip across the bouldering obstacle.
“You were saying?” Max said from the top of the wall a few seconds later.
He could practically feel the heat coming off Grady’s red face. “Did you practice this?”
Max smirked at him. “Maybe.”
Oooh, that frown was like a thundercloud. “So you lost on purpose?”
“Bud, I don’t think we’re playing the same game.” Max hopped down the stairs on the back side of the wall. “This happened once before, remember?”
A muscle at the corner of Grady’s jaw twitched. “Would it kill you to be straightforward about anything for once in your life?”
Max beamed. “Probably not, but why risk it?”
Now there was a vein bulging in his forehead. “Why are you like this?”
“Mom says it’s because I’m a middle child.”
Grady made a noise like the kitchen sink disposal.
Max patted his shoulder and headed for the exit. “You want to follow me back to my place, or should I send you the address?”
GRADY PROBABLY should have turned around and gone home. He was irritated with Max. If he wanted Grady to fuck him so bad, he could’ve said so. He didn’t have to make a stupid bet about it. And he didn’t have to let Grady win—that was annoying. Grady wasn’t a kid. He didn’t need to be handled.
Max was just… outrageous. Grady could never get away with half the things Max said, but Max had everyone conned into thinking he was charming. Even Grady caught himself falling for it from time to time.
He was also irritated with himself. He’d said some dumb things that he regretted. He hated the moment of panic he’d felt when Max hit the water. Max was never in any danger. He was falling in a pool—and now Grady knew that’d been on purpose.
Which made him more irritated. What did Grady care what happened to Max? He didn’t even like the guy.
Okay, Grady didn’t have to like someone to not want them to get hurt. But he felt like Max’s intentional fall was some kind of cosmic “gotcha” moment. Like it had been meant to catch Grady caring when he shouldn’t.
And then Max had the nerve to get out of the pool looking like that. He should’ve looked like a drowned rat, with his dumb, too-long hair soaked and clinging to his scalp and his athletic shirt plastered to his body and his shorts leaving nothing to the imagination.
Fuck. Fuck. Wasn’t it bad enough that he made Grady lose control on the ice and annoyed the hell out of him off of it? Did Grady have to find him sexually attractive too?
For once in his life, could Grady have a normal reaction to someone acting like a pest?
It was possible he was thinking about it a little too hard.
But apparently the answer to all of that was no—it wasn’t bad enough, and he did have to find him sexually attractive, and his reaction to Max annoying him on purpose was, evidently, to get a boner he could pound nails with, so he practically tailgated Max back to his place.
By the time he pulled into the driveway, he was really frustrated. He’d been stuck looking at the ass end of Max’s ugly lime-green Land Rover for fifteen minutes when he parked and stalked out of the car toward the front door.
Max didn’t hold it for him, so they were past the pretense of their date, which was a relief. Grady didn’t feel like faking social niceties.
“You want a bottle of water or something?” Max asked as he tossed his keys in a dish by the door.
Grady had chugged a Gatorade in the car. “I’m not thirsty.”
“What’re you doing here, then?” But he clearly didn’t care about the answer, because he grabbed a fistful of Grady’s shirt and pulled him into a kiss.
Max kissed the way he played hockey, fast and hard and with an edge of teeth, always daring Grady to push back harder, to take him to the boards. Grady tried to hold back on the ice, but fuck if he was doing that here. He fisted a hand in Max’s damp hair and bit his lower lip. “Where’s your bedroom?”
Max hissed into his mouth and then pulled away. “Upstairs. Come on.”
This time Grady didn’t ask about foreplay. If he’d learned anything about Max, it was that the competition was foreplay.
Grady couldn’t say it didn’t work for him.
Max’s wet T-shirt hit the hardwood at the top of the stairs. He didn’t even look back at it. If he wanted to wreck his floor, Grady wouldn’t stop him. He pulled his own shirt off, tossed it in a corner where no one would trip on it, and followed Max into his bedroom.
Any other time, he might have looked around to see what the room said about its owner. But Grady was a little busy right now, because Max had shoved his hand down the front of Grady’s shorts.
His enthusiasm was contagious, or at least that was what Grady told himself. He bit Max’s lower lip again as Max thumbed the head of his cock and then slid his hands over Max’s ass and squeezed.
The space between them evaporated, so Max had to move his hand. But that was okay, because now Grady could grind their cocks together while kneading Max’s cheeks. Whatever Max’s many other flaws, he had a great ass, and Grady looked forward to getting to know it better.
Maybe Max was thinking the same thing about Grady’s dick, because he started tugging at Grady’s waistband. “Off, come on, get these off.”
But—“Fair’s fair,” Grady said, and when he stepped back to undress, Max did the same.
Then, for the first time, they were naked together.
Max had a body built for hockey—thick, well-defined thighs and strong arms, abs hidden under a layer of fat. This was a man who valued function over form—he needed the extra weight now because he’d burn through it and then some by the end of the season. It looked good on him.
Not as good as Grady would look on him, though. He shoved Max backward onto the bed, climbed up after him, and straddled his waist.
“Thought you were gonna fuck me.” Max squirmed under him. He raked his nails up the inside of Grady’s thigh and then wrapped his hand around Grady’s dick. “Gonna be kind of tough in that position.”
Grady thrust into his grip. “I thought you were gonna let me be in charge.”
Max laughed and raised his eyebrows, telegraphing I dare you.
Well, they weren’t on the ice. Grady didn’t have to feel guilty about giving in. He rose onto his knees, shoved Max onto his belly, and then settled his weight on his ass. That should keep him out of trouble for the next few seconds. “Where’s your lube, if you’re so hard up for it?”
Max scrabbled under the pillows at the head of the bed and retrieved a strip of condoms and a half-empty bottle. At least it was a decent brand. Not as nice as the one Grady preferred, but beggars and choosers.
Except Grady wasn’t going to be the beggar in this scenario.
He shifted down the bed so he was sitting on Max’s thighs. Then he uncapped the lube… and stopped. “What the fuck is that?”
Max turned to look over his shoulder, his hair half falling in his face. “What—oh, that’s Larry.”
“Larry?” Grady repeated. Without meaning to, he traced his fingers over the bright red cartoon lobster tattooed on Max’s left asscheek. “You named your tramp stamp?”
“Excuse you, it’s not a tramp stamp, it’s a testament to my cultural heritage.” He wiggled his ass. “Is this going to be a deal-breaker for you?”
Unfortunately, it was not. Grady’s brain tried to point out that he’d rejected a guy for questionable tattoos last week, but his dick overruled the objection. “Why a lobster?”
He could practically hear the eye roll. “I’m from New Brunswick. They give us those when we’re born.”
Smartass. Grady slapped him on the lobster—not hard enough to hurt, just to sting a little.
Max jolted and flushed bright red from his nape down his shoulders.
Grady stared. Fuck. Of course he’d be into that. Of course Grady would find out by accident.
Of course Grady would feel compelled to do it again.
“At least it’s not crabs, I guess,” Grady said, feeling insane, and when Max laughed, Grady shoved two slick fingers into his hole. His body was hot and he opened easily for it.
“Jesus, tell me that’s not something you’d say on a date.”
Grady scissored his fingers. If Max wasn’t into foreplay, there was no point wasting time; he was as hard as Grady. “No, only with you.”
“Aw, bud, you say the sweetest—”
I dare you, Grady heard. Well, if another spank wasn’t what Max wanted, Grady was pretty sure he’d hear about it.
Smack. This time Grady watched the hit land, watched the ripple of round fat and muscle, watched the pink stain spread over the skin.
Max inhaled sharply and clenched around Grady’s fingers.
Enough. Grady pulled his fingers out and ripped open the condom. “You good?”
“What, you can’t tell?”
Grady took that for a yes and pushed inside.
It felt like his spine had liquified. Max’s ass fit perfectly into the bowl of his pelvis. The heat of him was blistering. The lines of his body, stretched sinuously on his bed, hips tilted to take Grady’s cock, etched themselves into Grady’s lizard brain.
And the sound Max made when Grady bottomed out made Grady’s nipples hard.
Of course, the next second, Max ruined it by using words. “So are you gonna fuck me now or what?” He tried to squirm backward on Grady’s dick, like he could control the situation that way.
Grady grabbed Max’s hips. “Quit it.” Couldn’t he get two seconds to keep from coming immediately? Max was the one who wanted this in the first place.
“Come on, you don’t really expect me to lie here and take it—”
Oh, fuck him very much. Grady pushed him flat to the bed, still inside him, his chest to Max’s back. “Maybe I do,” he said, digging his chin into Max’s shoulder. He didn’t have any physical leverage like this, but the metaphorical kind worked for him too. “What are you going to do about it?”
Max said, “Uh.”
Grady bit the side of his neck. Beneath him, Max shuddered deliciously. “That’s what I thought.”
Grady was out of his depth. He had no idea what had gotten into him. He had no plan for where to take this next. But Max pushed all Grady’s buttons, and it was only fair to push back.
Max should have come with an instruction manual. Grady didn’t even know where his buttons were. He couldn’t just lie here on top of Max—
“Hey! Did you fall asleep up there?” Max tried to work his arm underneath his body. “Some of us are trying to get off—”
Grady pulled his wrist behind his back. “Some of us threw a game on purpose, and now they’re going to get off when I say they do.” The movement put him back up on his knees—and gave him his leverage back.
God, who was he? What had come over him?
“Fuck you,” Max said, but his voice was breathy, with only the hint of a snarl.
Grady shifted closer and leveraged Max’s hips up with his thighs so his ass was in the air, weight on his shoulders. He looked amazing. “Maybe next time.” Grady thrust experimentally. Max muffled a noise in his pillow.
Okay, well, that button he could find, no problem. He pushed it again and the tension sapped out of Max’s body.
Grady’s lizard brain hissed in triumph.
The part with actual cognitive ability went oh no.
Then Max said, “Is that all you got?” and Grady lost his entire mind.
He switched his grip on Max’s wrist to his other hand and snapped his hips forward hard enough to fill the room with the slap of skin on skin. “Is this enough for you?” Grady rasped. He barely recognized his own voice.
Blessedly, Max seemed beyond words. He huffed out tiny, wrecked-sounding moans with every thrust, like Grady was fucking them out of him, but otherwise didn’t respond.
Grady wanted to take that for a yes too, but he needed to be sure. If Max wasn’t going to give verbal confirmation, Grady needed to see his face.
“Max,” Grady said.
Max moaned like a porn star but didn’t otherwise respond.
“Max—” That one slipped out unbidden. The tension in Grady’s body was coiling ever tighter, but he wasn’t going to come before Max did. That was a point of personal pride.
But if Max didn’t tell him anything—
Grady gave up trying to get his attention with his words, fisted his free hand in Max’s hair, and tugged his head back.
But he never got to ask anything, because the second Max turned his blotchy red face toward him, his whole body seized.
“Oh fuck,” Max said. His eyes squeezed closed and his mouth dropped open, and Grady could feel it when he came, clenching around his cock so tight Grady was helpless to do anything but bite his lip and follow him down.
He returned to himself breathing like he’d been bag skated, lying flat against Max’s back. At some point he’d let go of Max’s wrist and hair. It took him a moment to find the coordination to prop himself up on shaky arms and pull out of Max’s body so he could collapse next to him.
“Well,” Max said faintly, “I think we can rule out bad sex as a problem.”
Grady couldn’t make words, so he made a rude gesture instead. Of course sex wasn’t a problem. Having sex with someone he actually liked—that was the problem.
Maybe that wasn’t completely fair. Objectively, off the ice, Max wasn’t terrible.
Okay, he was, but Grady had developed a tolerance for it. They weren’t friends, but Grady could be civil to people who weren’t his friends.
Which reminded him… he owed Max an apology.
Ugh.
Better get it over with now, while Max was still facedown on the mattress and not scrutinizing him. “I’m sorry I made the brain damage comment.”
Predictably, that made Max turn his head and look at him. He furrowed his brow in confusion. “What?”
“When you were doing the ring thing. I shouldn’t have made a joke about brain damage. We play a contact sport. We both know enough guys who have it to know that shit isn’t funny.”
“I didn’t think twice about it. I wasn’t offended.” Max tucked a hand under his cheek. For once his eyes looked serious. “You’re right, though—it’s not funny.”
Grady blew out a breath. “That’s why I don’t like losing control on the ice.” And why he hated it when Max got under his skin. It would be so easy to hurt someone because he got angry and made a bad hit.
Max tilted his head. “It’s a contact sport. No one gets here without knowing the risks.”
“Yeah. Including me.” Suddenly it was important that Max understood what Grady meant and why. “Including the risk that if I don’t pay attention, I could put someone through what I went through as a kid.” He’d never forget watching from home as a player had a heart attack on the ice, or the sinking sensation in his gut when a pileup happened and someone got a skate blade too close to the neck.
Grady’d never seen anyone die during a game, but it could happen.
Max absorbed that for a moment. For once he didn’t seem inclined to poke or prod or make fun. He was listening like he was really thinking about it. “Don’t take this the wrong way,” he said at last. “Because I mean, you’re right, and it… I get why you’d feel, um, strongly about that.” Everyone knew what happened to Grady’s parents. “But… you talked to someone about this stuff, right? Like… professionally.”
I’m talking to you, Grady thought. But that wasn’t what Max meant. And since he seemed sincere in his concern—rare, for him, and unnerving for Grady—Grady answered honestly. “Yeah.”
“Okay, good,” Max said. “In that case, I need to tell you that you suck at pillow talk.”
Oh fuck. Grady startled into embarrassed laughter. “God, I really do.” Only Max could get away with saying that after such a serious conversation and come across as funny instead of dismissive.
“Like, buddy… that’s a problem.” He made an exaggerated grimace and then smiled and patted Grady on the hip. “Nice job until then, though. Ten out of ten, would lose a sex bet to again.”
Right. That reminded him why he was here in the first place. “Thanks, I think. How’s the rest of my report card?”
Max waggled his hand. “You’re not the world’s most hopeless case. You really only have one problem. It’s just that it’s a really big problem.” He shrugged. “You’ve got no people instincts.”
