Face Offs & Cheap Shots (CU Hockey Book 2) Read online

“Besides.” He grabs my hands and slides them over his ass. “I know how much you want this. If you think I’m not going to make you work for it, you don’t know me at all.”

  And yet, I kinda guessed something like this was coming. Maybe I don’t know Beck the way people expect you to know the person you’re sleeping with, but I know his quirks, his personality. I know how he moves on the ice and how he reacts when he’s disappointed.

  And I know, no matter how much he pisses me off and pokes at all my buttons, he’s got my back.

  That’s why, even though I know I’m not getting sex tonight, I duck my head and kiss him. Soft and slow, I take my time and let myself experience what it’s like to kiss him without my system being overridden with need.

  When we finally break apart and finish the walk back to our dorms, I want to hold his hand.

  I don’t.

  Instead I quickly kiss him before the elevator drops me off on my floor, and then I head to my room, already looking forward to seeing him tomorrow.

  18

  Beck

  As suspected, Cohen’s waiting for me when I get back.

  While talking to my sister who’s in her skimpy pajamas.

  “Baby, inside. Now.”

  She smiles at my teammate. “Bye.”

  I growl.

  She moves faster.

  Cohen’s gaze follows my sister’s ass, so I step in front of him, and he shakes it off. “What was up with Jacobs?”

  “His usual contempt for me. It was nothing. He’s sleeping it off now.”

  Cohen looks like he doesn’t believe me, but I don’t give him a chance to question it.

  I go into my room and close the door behind me.

  “What was wrong with your friend?” Baby asks from where she lies in my bed.

  “Nothin’. I basically stole his captain spot from him, so he’s pissed. Though, he’s always mad at me, so it doesn’t make much difference.” I flop back onto my pillow and blanket on the floor.

  “What an asshole.”

  “He’s not, actually. He’s …” Smart, mature, self-made. Take your pick. “He hates the Beckett name and what we stand for.”

  “Oh, so you have that in common.”

  “It makes sense for him to resent me. I haven’t exactly helped my case over the last three years. Throwing money around like it means nothing when he’s here on a scholarship.”

  “Money, or lack of it, doesn’t give him a right to be an asshole though.”

  “No, I think that just adds to it. I push all of his buttons on purpose. He hates that I’m never serious and don’t think things through.”

  “You’re … defending him. Are you, like, friends?”

  I stare at the ceiling, tempted to tell her about Jacobs and me, but the thing is, we’re only hooking up. I don’t even know if I can say that we’re friends.

  We’re two guys who are hanging out and having sex. Does that make us friends?

  We make each other come. Exclusively.

  And have fun.

  “How long are you staying for?” I ask because I could think about her question all damn night and still not find an answer.

  “I don’t know. I don’t want to be in New York by myself for the rest of summer, and all my friends at Harvard have gone home for the break.”

  “You can stay here as long as you don’t get caught. We’re not supposed to have guests in the dorms.”

  “Thanks. I’ll probably only need a few days to work something out. I had to get away from Daddy.”

  Welcome to my entire existence.

  “The saddest part is he probably doesn’t even care that I left.”

  I’d like to say that’s not true, but I have no idea.

  Dad’s a very traditional type of person. Where men are superior and women are playthings or possessions and should be seen but not heard. Our mom is an ex-Playboy Playmate. Something I wish I didn’t know about my mother and happy as fuck that none of the guys at Colchester have found out. High school was a pain in the ass.

  Those “yo momma” jokes, I’ve heard them all.

  It’s so much easier being in a different state where they’re too busy to visit. Because if Dad is proud of one thing, it’s his picture-perfect family. The trophy wife he loves to show off and boast about her being in Playboy once upon a time, the son who will follow in his footsteps, and his own little princess.

  I don’t think he gives an actual shit about any of us, only the image. Except maybe Mom. They do appear to be in love.

  “I’m sorry Dad can’t see how amazing you are,” I whisper.

  She doesn’t reply. She’s probably asleep again.

  It’s not the first time I’ve wondered what Baby and Dad’s relationship would be like if I wasn’t around. Would he take her seriously if she was the only heir to his fortune?

  More importantly, would I be able to survive without Dad funding my lifestyle?

  Jacobs’s judging face fills my mind.

  Right.

  First-world problems.

  I try to get to sleep, but all I can think is how much more comfortable I’d be if I were in Jacobs’s bed with him.

  Tomorrow night.

  And if my sister is staying a while, maybe the night after that too. And the one after that.

  I spend the next week sneaking out of my room after Baby’s asleep, taking the stairs between levels, and knocking on Jacobs’s door. We make each other come with our mouths, our hands, and once he made me come by grinding on top of me, his cock dragging along mine. Then, when morning comes, I sneak back into my room and pretend I stayed there the whole night.

  A few times while Jacobs has been choking on my dick and fingering my ass, I’ve been tempted to ask him to fuck me, but it seems we were all talk while he was drunk. And maybe I was a little overconfident on that front, but I’ve been thinking about it.

  A lot.

  Whenever I’ve contemplated telling him, I get scared off by the fact a dick is bigger than a finger.

  He hasn’t brought it up either.

  One day … maybe when he admits he actually likes me. I did say I’d make him work for it, after all.

  By day, we’re still seen as rivals even though we’re working as a team on the ice as much as in bed at night. Camp is seriously still the most fulfilling thing I’ve done in my life.

  I’m always chasing that high, the adrenaline only stupidity and attention-seeking behavior can bring, but coaching these kids is a different kind of fun.

  It leaves a lasting impression on my soul instead of a quick adrenaline high followed by a depressing crash.

  After another fulfilling but exhausting day, I get back to my dorm to find my sister sitting across my bed, so I flop down beside her.

  “Sorry we’re not spending much time together. This camp thing has a crazy packed schedule.”

  “Mm, you look exhausted,” she says.

  “Thanks. You’re beautiful too.”

  She smiles. “You know, you’d probably get more sleep if you stopped sneaking out at night.”

  My face falls. “Say what?” My voice is comically high-pitched.

  “I got up to pee in the middle of the night and noticed you were gone.”

  I swallow hard. “Oh, last night? Yeah, I, uh …” Come up with a good lie, damn it! “Snacks! I was … getting snacks.”

  Why does the one person I can never lie to have to be so damn observant?

  “Yeah, no, that was three nights ago. Then, two nights ago, I randomly woke up and rolled over and you were gone. And then last night, I set an alarm to wake up to check … So … Who is she?”

  I let out a loud breath. “No one. It’s a bed to sleep in instead of the floor.”

  Baby narrows her eyes.

  “What?”

  “When I’ve asked you about your girlfriends—and I use that term loosely—you’ve had no problem describing them and giving me their name because you know I’ll never meet them.” She cocks her head. “Which m
eans, there’s either a chance of running into this new gi—person … or … I’ve already met them.”

  I don’t miss the way she switched pronouns.

  Shit.

  I run a hand through my hair. “If you could, like, not be so perceptive, that’d be great. Thanks.”

  She throws her arms around me. “Aww, Teddy. I’m proud of you for rejecting the social convention of heteronormative bullshit.”

  “Yes. Because that’s the entire reason for sleeping with a teammate.”

  Her eyes widen. “It’s totally that asshole guy, isn’t it?”

  “He’s not an asshole,” I grumble.

  “Oh, that’s so cute.”

  “Have I mentioned lately that I hate you?”

  “No you don’t.”

  “Right now I do!”

  “Why have you been having dinner with me every night? You should go out with your boyfriend.”

  I hold up my hand. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Not my boyfriend. Definitely not my boyfriend. We don’t do dates.” Not intentional ones anyway. That breakfast date happened by chance, and it wasn’t even a date.

  “Aww, that must be so romantic for him.”

  I scoff. “Trust me. He doesn’t want romance. Not from me.”

  “I don’t know about that. Thinking back to the night he turned up here, upset over what I’m now guessing was a jealous rage over me, that guy might want some romance.”

  “Maybe, but I stand by my statement that he won’t want it from me. He still practically hates me.”

  “Then what do you even see in him?”

  His dick. Don’t tell your little sister that. And it’s not like that’s even true anyway.

  I shrug. “He’s hot when he scowls at me.”

  “Ooh, you have it bad.”

  “No, I don’t.” I jump up and pull something out of my closet to wear. “And I’m going to prove it.”

  “Where are you going?”

  I sigh. “To ask my fuck buddy on a proper date.”

  She bounces up and down and claps. “Yay.”

  “I’m only doing it to prove you wrong, because you are.”

  “I’m so not wrong.”

  And suddenly everything inside me hopes that’s true.

  19

  Jacobs

  The tap on my door comes way earlier than I’m expecting. It could literally be anyone at this time, but I know his knock. Slightly impatient and full of life.

  I’m smiling before I even reach the door.

  He’s changed since practice, and he looks good. Really good.

  With a quick glance down the hall, I grab his shirt and tug him inside, but before I can push him against the wall and kiss him stupid, Beck steps out of my reach. He’s not meeting my eyes, and I’m suddenly really worried he’s here for a reason other than making out. He shifts further away.

  Uh-oh.

  Is he done here already?

  I straighten up and do my best to hide the sudden panic. It might have been Beck’s idea to continue this, but I definitely haven’t been complaining. Every night he sneaks down here, it just makes me want more.

  “So this is outside our usual schedule,” I say carefully.

  Beck forces a little laugh. “Ah, yeah. I thought I’d catch you before dinner, see if you were hungry maybe?” He’s still acting weird, but at least it doesn’t seem like he’s here to end things.

  “I could eat.”

  “You could?”

  I stare at him for a minute, not sure if he’s dicking around. “Why are you being weird?”

  “I’m …” I can tell he’s about to deny it when he relaxes. “My sister maybe guessed about us.”

  “Guessed?”

  “Apparently your little display of jealousy didn’t go unnoticed. And neither did my sneaking out. Are you mad?”

  Am I? I feel like I should be. Beck’s certainly expecting me to be. “Can’t be helped.”

  “Okay, who are you and what have you done with Jacobs?”

  I hold back my laugh and tug him in close again. “Who are you? You’ve been here a few minutes now and we haven’t even kissed yet.”

  “You want to kiss me?”

  I don’t answer him. Instead I press my lips to his and lean into the feel of his body against mine.

  “Dinner?” he asks against my mouth.

  “Sure, let me get my keys.”

  “And maybe change your shirt?”

  It’s such a weird request that I stare at him a moment. At his tight jeans and button-up shirt, and …

  I swallow hard. Is this a date?

  Nerves explode in my gut as I force my feet toward the closet and pull my T-shirt over my head. I don’t have many options, so I pull the first navy button-up I see from the hanger and shrug into it, while keeping my back turned firmly toward Beck.

  Maybe I’m reading this wrong. That would be the most obvious option. So why can’t I bring myself to make some kind of joke while I clear up whatever is happening here? I check my hair in the small mirror. The close-shaved sides have started to grow out, but at least the length on top is sitting right.

  “Okay, let’s go.”

  I follow Beck to his car, and thankfully we don’t see anyone we know. If one of our teammates saw us right now, I have no idea how I’d explain us together, let alone dressed nice and headed off campus.

  I could imagine Cohen and Rossi assuming we were headed to a club and asking to come along.

  “How does Italian sound?” Beck asks as he backs out of the parking spot.

  “Delicious.” My smiles are coming easier now, and I’m letting them happen more than I ever have around him. I guess that’s what orgasms do to a guy. “Know a place?”

  “Yeah, it looks like a bit of a shithole, but the food’s good.”

  It goes silent after that. And instead of the stifling awkwardness I’m expecting, it’s kinda chill. Relaxing. I glance over at where he’s driving and wonder what would happen if I reached for his thigh. Is that too much? I mean, if this is a date, then it would be expected. But if it really is two teammates who get each other off, then it could be crossing a line.

  We pull up at the restaurant, and Beck’s right, it’s a shithole. All yellow brick and checkered red-and-white awnings. Inside, the lights are dim, covering everything in a dark yellow glow. The wood tables are chipped, and none of the chairs match.

  A sweet older woman leads us to a booth, and the restaurant is packed. There’s only a couple of free tables. I wait for her to drop off the menus, take our drink orders, and leave before I lean across to Beck.

  “It’s possible I’m gonna sound like a dick here, but this doesn’t seem like your kind of place.”

  He takes a moment to look around. “I came in here drunk one night and orgasmed over the food. Then I assumed it was so good because by that point everything tastes good. But I came back and now …” He shrugs. “I like it here.”

  “It has a weird charm to it.”

  “No need to start being nice now.”

  “No, really. It’s not every night I get to eat dinner surrounded by people with jaundice.”

  Beck laughs. “Yeah, the lighting does make everyone look sick.”

  “Except you.”

  “What?” His blue eyes are bright.

  I consider whether I should say what I’m about to or not. Fuck it. “You always look good.”

  “Oh really?”

  “And you know it.”

  “Doesn’t mean I don’t want to hear it again.”

  “Then you should have recorded me.” I pretend to look over the menu, but I’m pretty sure I’ll order the carbonara and be done with it. I’m way too aware of him to concentrate.

  The woman comes back with our sodas and takes our orders.

  When she leaves again, Beck kicks my foot. “Hey, Topher?”

  “Yes, Teddy?”

  “You know that I meant for this to be a date, right?” And holy shit, I’ve never seen Beck look as uncerta
in as he does tonight. The big eyes, the creased forehead—where is the confident guy I’m so used to bantering with? And while I have no idea what he means by asking me on a date, or being nervous, I do know that I like it.

  “Then what are you doing over there?”

  He swiftly slides out of his side and into mine, and by the time Beck is beside me, he’s back to being the guy I know. His full smile is on display as he plants his elbow on the table and angles his body toward me. “You knew this was a date.”

  “I suspected.”

  “And you came anyway.”

  I think it over. “I guess I did.” I expect him to call me out on what that means, to push and tease, but instead, he lets it go completely.

  “You want to know the real reason I like this place?” he asks.

  “Sure.”

  Beck looks down as he traces one of the gauges in the table. “It reminds me of what people say a home is supposed to be. The first time I walked in here I … felt warm inside.” He groans. “Geez, that’s lame.”

  “It’s not lame.”

  “It’s not a feeling I get a lot.”

  I’m nervous as I lean forward. I have no idea what the people around us would think if they knew we were on a date, or if they notice I’m about to kiss him. I have no idea if someone is gonna cause a scene because of what I’m about to do. All I know is that Beck let me in, and I saw probably the most genuine side of him I’ve ever seen. And apparently when Beck is down, I have an overwhelming urge to boost him back up again.

  I touch my lips to his. It’s fast, and not at all what I crave, but I hope he knows what I’m trying to make it mean. Which is stupid, because I don’t even really know.

  I straighten up and move a bit closer. “You know sometimes I forget that just because you have money and you seem happy all the time, it doesn’t mean you don’t have things that get to you.”

  “I have enough of those things to keep a psychologist in business for years.” And despite his words, he’s smiling as he wraps his leg around mine under the table.

  “Wanna tell me any of it?”

  “Are you going to use it against me?”

  I give him a dry look. “Maybe when this is over, we go back to antagonizing each other, who knows? But I think we’re way past the high school bullshit, don’t you?”