Ramsey’s mouth went dry, his whole body tight with want.
But before he could really sink into it, Nate pulled back.
His fingers drifted lower, down the side of his face, tracing the bow of Ramsey’s lips. Unbidden, Ramsey’s mouth opened. If he was panting, the only two who would ever know about it were Nate and himself.
And while that might have been unacceptable at some point, Ramsey was finding it difficult to care right now. Not when what he’d wanted for so long—wanted and told himself over and over that he shouldn’t get, that hewouldn’tget—was right here, within reach, Nate’s muscles flexing under his touch.
“Do we need to talk about it?” Nate asked.
Ramsey didn’t want to talk about it. He just wanted todoit. He knew Nate did too. He could feel Nate’s hard cock pressing into his hip. Could feel how tightly leashed Nate’s whole body was, coiling around his arousal. Keeping it controlled.
He was tired of Nate controlling it. So tired of controllinghimself.
“What is there to talk about?” Ramsey played stupid. It wasn’t his best moment, but also, most of his blood was no longer in his brain and he wasthisclose to finally getting what he’d been craving, again.
Nate shot him a knowing look and did the worst thing in the world: he stepped away.
Ramsey did not make grabby hands and try to pull him back, but hewantedto.
“We said this wasn’t real. That we weren’t dating, for real,” Nate said, his voice rough. Frustrated.
Well, that madetwoof them.
“I thinkIsaid it wasn’t real,” Ramsey said impudently.
Nate rolled his eyes.
“That was only because I couldn’t get you to even talk to me,” Ramsey said, and it felt like a truth had just shaken free. A truthhe wasn’t sure he’d wanted out there, but now that it was, he couldn’t take it back. If he evenwantedto take it back.
He’d been fighting this for so long. Months of Nate being pissed at him. Months of snide comments and a simmering resentment. Probably anearnedsimmering resentment, because Ramsey had ditched him the moment he’d panicked at who he was hooking up with.
Funny how Nate being Nate Bishop, defensive captain of the Toronto Thunder, was now somehowlesspressing than the fact that he was Nate Bishop, guy playing frustratingly difficult to get.
Nate shot him a baffled look. “That isn’t true. That can’t be true.”
None of those were questions, but Ramsey’s head bobbed still, nodding.
He’d lost control of himself, which Ramsey supposed was all inevitable. Eventually, he should’ve known he’d run into the one person who made him a babbling idiot.
“Wait a minute,isthat true?” Nate took a step closer. “That’s not bullshit?”
Ramsey’s mouth was so dry. He didn’t know how to do this. “Why does it matter?”
Nate shot him a chiding look. “It fucking matters to me.” He pressed him, full body against Ramsey’s, to the wall. Then kissed him again. Deliberately, and Ramsey would’ve thought it was like a taunt, but he’d seen the look on Nate’s face—that open, naked want broadcast for anyone who wanted to see it—and knew it wasn’t. “If it isn’t bullshit, then I’d do that again.”
“Just once?” Ramsey asked, mustering up the most innocent voice in his roster. But it didn’t work. It came out all wonky. Which . . .not surprising, considering he wasn’t sure he could feel his fingers or his toes. He wasn’t cold, though; the opposite, in fact.
Burning alive just from the look in Nate’s dark eyes.
The hopeful possibility that Ramsey might want this too.
And he thought he might, but he didn’t knowhowto want that.
Still, maybe it just came down to the one truth hecouldsay out loud. “When I skated today,” he said, hating how his voice trembled, but he couldn’t help it, not anymore, “I was so fucking happy. And you were the first person I wanted to tell. That’s not bullshit.”
Nate didn’t say anything. He just leaned in and kissed Ramsey again, hands rising to frame his face. Ramsey’s eyes fluttered shut. Feeling everything and nothing at the same time.
The kiss spun on and on and then broke and then re-formed and formed again. Like Nate hadalsobeen storing up each and every time he’d wanted to kiss and he’d buried the impulse down instead of indulging, and now there were so many to share.
