Egotistical Puckboy (Puckboys 1)

“Your dick. Of course. It has nothing to do with talent.”

Ezra pats my cheek. “Exactly.” His hand stills, thumb sliding over my face. I almost lean into it and catch myself in time. “You shaved.”

“I did.”

His nose wrinkles. “You smell like aftershave.”

“Funny that.” I step out of his reach and grab my phone to order us dinner.

“I don’t like it.”

“Good thing I didn’t do it for you.”

“Obviously. It was for all the other men you plan on having over.” He steps up behind me, propping his chin on my shoulder and watching me scroll through the options. “Just so you know, I prefer when you smell all sweaty and like my cum. In case you were wondering.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Well, I saved you from ever needing to. You’re welcome.” He reaches around me and taps on a Vietnamese place.

We end up ordering more than two people should reasonably consume, but there never seems to be any leftovers when we eat together.

“Now you need to give me the tour,” he announces, taking a step back.

“There’s not much of a tour. It’s only two bedrooms.”

“Aw, I get to have my own room? How sweet.”

My lips twitch. “Who said you’re staying over?”

“Me. And we both know I win at these things eventually.” His voice drags out teasingly as he walks away, off exploring my place on his own. The problem is, Ezra’s right. More and more lately, he’s been getting his way. It’s curious the way he wears me down because sometimes I don’t even try to fight it. Like tonight. He’ll be staying over, but it won’t be in the spare room.

After a few minutes of waiting in the kitchen for Ezra to return, I realize he’s not going to, so I go in search of him instead.

He’s made himself comfortable on my bed. Shoes off, propped up on my pillows with his hands folded behind his head. “Good view.” He gestures to the large window.

“It’s not bad.”

“Still miss your old place?”

I cross the room and sit near his feet. “Yes. It felt like home. This …”

“Will too. Eventually. No offense, but your other place was like a museum.”

“Sure. Because why would that be offensive?” I nudge his bent knees, and he stretches his legs out over my lap instead. “It had character.”

“So does this.” He waves a hand toward the crown molding.

“If that’s what you think gives a house character, your place is starting to make more sense.”

“Hey,” he protests. “My place is awesome.”

“It looks like a man cave on steroids. You couldn’t scream bachelor harder if you tried.”

Ezra sucks in a deep breath and then, “Bachelorrrr!”

“Argh.” I flinch at the sudden noise, then grab a pillow and whack him with it, cutting him off.

“You know your problem?” He pokes me with his foot. “You’re a house snob.”

“Having standards doesn’t make me a snob.”

“You can’t claim standards when you’re sleeping with me.” His tone is light and playful, but it makes me wonder …

“What do you mean?”

“It’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it?” His light blue eyes meet mine. “That I’m your way of slumming it. A fun way to pass time until you meet some guy you can be serious with. Kinda like this apartment.”

“I didn’t realize you were here to psychoanalyze me,” I say.

Something churns in my gut at him thinking that, and I’m almost … offended? I might not be as openly affectionate as him, but that isn’t because I don’t value him or I think I’m better than him.

“Have you seriously not noticed how, even now, after we put all the bullshit behind us, you haven’t acknowledged me around the team?”

That can’t be right. “What are you talking about?”

“Like today, where you basically yelled you were meeting up with someone. I don’t think it will be the end of the world if the guys know we’re at least friends now.”

“Are we friends?”

“Ouch, Anton. Ouch.”

“My point is what do we do other than play hockey and fuck? Is that friendship?”

“To me, it sounds like we’re besties. You also say that like we have time during the season to do other stuff. On the rare occasions we do get downtime, I tend to go golfing with some of the guys from the team. I’ll get you an invite next time. If …”

“If I suck your dick?”

“I was going to say if you start acknowledging me in public, you fucking snob, but a blowjob might be better. Damn it, now you’ve made things hard for me.”

“Okay, so in your own words, we’re at the level of friendship where public acknowledgments are cool, but blowjobs are even better?”

“Exactly. Like I said. We’re now besties.”

I laugh, but our whole conversation has got me thinking. I know I try to avoid him in the locker room, but I’m scared that all it would take is one smile his way and everyone would know.