He wasn’t just kissing that really hot guy he’d met in the bar, but Ramsey, with that big brain and that ride or die loyalty to Wes, to wanting the guys to come into this bar and welcome them but not know it was him who was doing it.
Ramsey was an enigma and a contradiction, but he was becomingNate’senigma. Nate’s contradiction.
And he never wanted to let him go.
Ramsey pulled back, pupils huge in his blue eyes. “Let’s . . .” He sank even white teeth into his swollen bottom lip. Nate wanted to do that. Nate wanted to drag him by his hair, back to his condo, and not let him leave the bed all night long.
But that wasn’t going to lead to even a decentteamcelebration? Between the two of them, it would be more thanlegit. Themostlegit. But Nate had responsibilities, and so did Ramsey, now that Nate realized the truth.
“I want to,” Nate said. “So fucking much. But I can’t leave. Not yet.”
Ramsey’s expression turned sly. He tugged Nate in the direction of the bench seat that ran all the way across the back of the room. “We could here,” he suggested.
AndGod, Nate wanted to. Wanted to pull that sweater off. Get his hands on all of Ramsey’s gloriously bare skin. Everyone who said he was hot in clothes had never seen him naked—and Nate was prepared to go to war to make sure that was a situation that didn’t change.
He felt greedy and possessive that it was only him now that could know Ramsey like that. The past didn’t matter. But right now? For all those days and weeks and months in the future? Ramsey washis. At some point he’d become hockey’s too, but even then, Nate hoped—hoped so fucking hard—that he would stay Nate’s too.
“I don’t know.” Nate hesitated. There was a door but not a lock. Not that he cared about getting caught. Everyone he knew here would probably expect it at some point or another. You didn’t date a guy like Ramsey and not let him tempt you into a few questionable decisions.
But that semi-possessive streak flared again, and Nate decided that no amount of arousal, no desperate need to get off, was ever going to equal the risk of someone walking in and seeingRamseylike that.
Not when that Ramsey was all for him, now.
Not just his body. Not just his mind. But Ramsey had said it himself, theotherthing that might intervene to pave the way to Ramsey’s potential happiness.
“What if I told you that we wouldn’t even be the first,” Ramsey teased.
“Really?” Nate supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. This was a bar. People did stupid things in bars. Especially in bars with rooms with unlocked doors.
He’d been in his share of gay clubs in his life andyeah. That was not a surprise at all.
“Oh, I won’t even tell you who it was, butthatrevelation would really surprise you.” Ramsey chuckled under his breath. He leaned in and kissed Nate again, but this time it wasn’t a purposeful kiss. A kiss meant to go somewhere. A kiss, instead, to tide him over through the end of the night.
“Come on,” Nate complained.
But Ramsey only smiled. Gorgeous and perfect andreal. And in that moment, all Nate’s. “Nope. Not gonna say. Prerogative of the owner. Maybe you can take me home in a few hours and sexually torture it out of me.”
“I’m going to hold you to that,” Nate said seriously. What a fucking great idea.
God, Nate might have loved him even more in that moment. Not only that he’d read between the lines and knew what Nate wanted, even though Nate hadn’t really wanted to admit to the worst of his impulses. But to make it a game between them. A game they’d bothverymuch enjoy playing.
Nate let his hands drift down. Get a nice firm grip of Ramsey’s gorgeous ass. “Good,” he said, heavy with promise.
Chapter 15
Ramseydeliberatelywentoutof his way to set this meeting for a time when he knew Wes would be at practice. It wasn’t that Wes wouldn’t be supportive—he’d be the opposite, in fact—but he’d hover.
If he hovered, he’d see exactly how nervous Ramsey was about this conference call, and as much as he usually didn’t mind Wes seeing his vulnerabilities, this felt different.
Not something he could share with others. Instead, this felt like a journey he’d been undertaking by himself, fighting off all the demons in his head with only his own hands and his own wits.
Wes wanted to be there for him. Nate wanted to be too. Ramsey knew that, but he wasn’t ready to share it.
Wasn’t sure he’d ever be ready.
He dressed carefully. When he wasn’t playing, Ramsey usually avoided team-branded merchandise, but today he dug in the back of the guest closet and pulled on one of his Wolves sweatshirts. The one with his number on it. Forty-three,stamped in white on the black background. Impossible to miss. Impossible to deny.
I’m still a member of this team,it declared, so much louder and so much more obviously than Ramsey would’ve ever felt comfortable doing himself.
