“You’re so not playing fair.” My voice is whisper-quiet so his parents can’t hear.
Once he’s down to his boxer briefs, he pulls back the covers and climbs into bed next to me. “We’re boyfriends. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.” Then the bastard winks.
“Don’t think for one second you can use our situation to your advantage.” I’m only half-serious.
His smile drops a little but not completely. “Not at all. No touching.” Ollie lies back, pulling the blanket over his waist but not up to cover this chest. His beautiful, hard, tattooed chest.
“Didn’t you say you’d sleep on the floor?”
He runs a hand down his delectable pecs to his abs. “Are you really gonna make me sleep on the cold ground? I totally will if you ask me to.”
I sigh. “No.”
I close my laptop and put it back in my laptop bag. Then I even the score a little. I don’t have as much finesse or tact as Ollie and drop my clothes to the floor without the scorching eye-fucking he gave me while he stripped. Still, payback seems to be working with how much his eyes roam over me. I want to taunt him about seeing something he likes, but we’re already playing with matches. I don’t want to start an inferno.
I climb back into bed next to him, and turn on my side to face him, pretending like I’m not hardening in my briefs with every second I stare at his bare chest.
I need a distraction. “What’re your plans now?” I ask. Nothing like reminding him he just lost the Cup to bring the mood down.
Ollie’s eyes turn from heated to sad. “Dunno. There’s not really anything in New York for me. I’ll probably go back to Boston and do the family thing. You? You still gonna follow the playoffs?”
“If my boss wants me on it, yeah, but I might be heading back to Chicago. My assignment when Harry sent me here was kind of vague. It was to cover the entire conference, but he wanted me to follow you guys specifically. Probably because of all the articles I wrote about you.”
Ollie’s lips tug downward.
“I’m hoping to go back to football again when it comes around, but I don’t know what my editor has planned for me. He was convinced you guys were going to take it out this year, so I could really be sent anywhere now you’re out.”
“Just another disappointed person.” Ollie sighs. “Chicago, huh?” His tone is hard to dissect. “So, really, this could be one of the last times we see each other?”
“Until next season, probably. I don’t know what upcoming projects Harry wants me on, but he’s been impressed with my coverage of hockey even if some people think I don’t know what I’m talking about.”
Ollie turns his head to face me. “I was wrong.”
I gasp. “Sorry, what was that? Can I, like, dictate that to my phone somehow?”
“Shut up. I. Was. Wrong. You’re a great reporter, Lennon.”
I point to my chest. “Clark. Shit, you’re so bad with names, dude.”
Ollie shoves me so I roll onto my back. “Go to sleep already.”
Go to sleep next to Ollie while sporting a major boner? Not going to happen. Still, we lie there in the darkness, both of us not sleeping. I can tell because Ollie’s breaths are uneven, and even that somehow turns me on.
God, I want to reach down and take my aching dick into my hand. Or maybe push Ollie’s head down there. That’d work too.
“So, this is what it’s like to die from blue balls,” Ollie grumbles. “I’m gonna start calling you Blue, because it’s always your fault.”
I burst into laughter so loud I’m sure his parents can hear me. Ollie’s hand clamps over my mouth.
“I really don’t want the folks to think I’m getting laid in here.”
“If someone laughs that hard during sex, you’re doing it wrong,” I say against his hand before he removes it. “This was such a bad idea.”
“Horrible idea,” he agrees. “But I have a proposition for you.”
I cock an eyebrow in the dark and then realize he probably can’t make that out. “Another one?”
“We agreed we can’t hook up, right?”
“Right.”
“But jerking off is totally a solo act, right?”
“Right.”
“So, if we jerk off together without touching one another ...”
Terrible. Horrible. Stupid, stupid, stupid idea, but that’s not gonna stop me. No way. “I love technicalities.”
In one swift move, I reach under the blanket and pull my underwear off. Ollie does the same, and then he reaches over to turn the bedside light on and throws lube and tissues on the bed.
“I’d say something about you preparing for this, but you didn’t know I was coming over.”
“I haven’t had sex in over a year. Where else do you think I’d keep supplies for getting myself off?”
“I’d feel sorry for you if it wasn’t about the same amount of time for me.”