stands—quick, hard and instantaneous. Only Rock didn’t pull away.
Instead he froze.
Their chest pressed together, faces inches apart, mouths so close.
The warm wisp of Rock’s breath brushed across his cheek, the faint scent of beer invading his nose. Rock’s grip tightened and his eyelids lowered with the parting of his lips.
Oh, God . Carter’s brain shorted out, overtaken by his response to this man. The urge to close the space and take that tempting parting of lips in a blistering kiss was too real and carnal. Blood rushed to his shaft in an instantaneous recognition of what it wanted.
He caught his breath and stepped back. He pulled his hands from Rock and turned to yell at the ice like everyone else was doing. His heart hammered along with the beat of the riotous music that thundered over the din of the crowd. He glanced at Rock to find the man staring at him, his brow drawn hard over his eyes.
“Great shot,” Carter shouted over the noise.
Rock nodded before he leaned in close to Carter’s ear. “You are fucking hot.” His breath sent a small shiver down Carter’s neck that seemed to continue all the way to his groin and didn’t help the erection he was trying to suppress.
Carter jerked his head around, but Rock had already straightened and was taking a seat asthe celebration died down. A smile formed on Carter’s lips and he slowly sat back down. It was stupid. He’d had many men and women tell him that in various forms. But hearing it from the shy, gruff military man had him wishing for things with the man he’d never be able to have.
The game started again, the players from both teams ramping up their aggression as the clock counted down. It was close, the play intense, but Carter’s interest was gone. He gripped his thighs to keep his hands immobile because all he really wanted to do was reach over and touch the man sitting next to him.
He braced his leg along Rock’s once again and let the silly tingle of anticipation swirl up his leg to infect his whole system. They might not have a chance at forever, but he could certainly give Rock a great night and maybe a start at accepting himself and his desires.
He glanced at the clock on the Jumbotron for the first time. An hour and twenty minutes left. He’d been enjoying the night so much that he’d forgotten to watch the billable hours. That never happened.
He waited for two players to skate past the bench, their shoulders grinding into each other, sticks battling for ownership of the puck, before he leaned over to Rock. He got close to his ear and stopped to inhale his cedar-sage scent. “Thank you.”
Rock hung his head, his chin tipping toward Carter as he sat back. There was a small smirk on his lips that held a promise of what might come after the game.
A promise that Carter sincerely hoped he meant to keep.
Chapter Seven
People flowed past them as they emptied from the stadium, their excitement muted after the last-minute goal by Detroit to steal the game from the Glaciers.
Rock turned to Carter and tried to get his mouth to say what he wanted. He’d been building up the words for almost the entire game and now he couldn’t get them out. Like normal, he felt like a fucking buffoon. What had possessed him to say that to Carter? He’d never told another man he was hot. Ever.
“It was a great game,” Carter said. “Too bad they lost.”
“Thanks for going with me.” Of course he’d gone. Rock had paid him to. The thought crushed the rising tide of possibilities that had been growing within him throughout the game. He checked his watch and debated what to do with the last hour of their time.
“Did you have anything else in mind?”
That could mean so many things. A drink at the bar. A cup of coffee. A fuck. Yeah, he’d love to do all of those things with Carter. But which one did Carter mean? Most likely the last one. It wasn’t like Rock was full of stimulating conversation.
He tucked his hands farther into his
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