“You’re only making it worse.” I uncapped the bottle. “So hold still.”
He finally turned his head, his deep-set eyes narrowing with suspicion. “Why are you helping me?”
“Because you’re bleeding all over the sink.”
“Seriously, what’s your angle?” The words came out clipped.
“There’s no angle.” I grabbed his forearm.
His muscles instantly tensed under my grip, but he didn’t pull his arm away.
“Coach made it crystal clear,” I continued, pouring antiseptic onto a gauze pad. “If you tank your grades or get yourselfbenched for fighting, I sit right next to you on that bench. My ice time is tied to you. So what the hell was worth risking it tonight? You go looking for trouble in a bar?”
Aleksey’s jaw tightened. “I don’t look for trouble,” he muttered, a defensive edge cutting through. “Some guy started trashing the aisles at the Food Mart and got aggressive with a co-worker.” He shrugged, though the movement looked painful. “My manager said the damages would come out of my paycheck if I didn’t stop him. So I stopped him.”
I stared at him, momentarily stunned by the bleak reality of his life. “So you let a shift manager extort you into taking a beating?” I shook my head. “You’re not as tough as you think you are. Keep the blood on the ice where it actually counts.”
As I pressed the damp gauze to his split knuckles, his arm jerked. A wince rippled across his face, and he hissed through his teeth.
“And maybe don’t break yourself for a manager who’d replace you tomorrow,” I added quietly. “If you’re going to be a liability, be one that actually wins games. That’s the only way either of us is getting through this season.”
Aleksey stared at me. Slowly, the tension left his shoulders. As he let me clean the cuts, his breathing finally evened out.
“You’re a real piece of work,” he muttered after a long silence. His voice had dropped a full octave.
When the bleeding stopped, I tossed the used gauze into the trash can. I then looked at the fresh cut on his split lip, my fingers twitching toward a fresh pad, but I forced my hand down. Touching his face felt like crossing a line I couldn’t walk back from. So, without another word, I turned and stepped back out into the dark hallway.
I didn’t go straight up the stairs. Instead, I lingered in the shadows at the bottom of the steps for a long beat. Harsh chemicals coated my fingertips, while the heat of Aleksey’s armburned right into my skin. It was a ghost-sensation that refused to fade.
He didn’t pull away, I thought to myself, my heart kicking hard against my ribs.
I shook my head, trying to dislodge the thought, and hurried back up the stairs to the attic. Pushing into my room, the first thing I registered was Matt’s empty bed. His bedsheets were kicked to the foot of the mattress, and his gym bag was gone. Late night skate or a party, probably. But it didn’t matter, so long as the room was mine.
I twisted the lock on the doorknob with a sharp click, creating a somewhat solid barrier between me and the rest of the house. But mostly, I needed it between me and Aleksey.
My mind flashed back to my first day here, remembering the sound of him testing my door handle in the dark just to see if he could. I couldn’t risk him trying that tonight.
I dropped onto my bed and stared up at the slanted ceiling once again. The image of Aleksey’s split lip and his bare shoulders refused to leave my mind. I craved that roughness—his jagged edges. The sheer force of that want terrified me.
Heat flooded my face, my cock swelling as I brought the image of a half-naked Aleksey to mind.
Reaching for my waistband, I shoved my sweatpants down to my thighs without making a conscious choice. I then gripped my hardening cock tight, stroking fast and hard. It was a desperate attempt to get my head straight and numb the rising sense of panic as I squeezed my eyes shut.
It didn’t help.
Instead of blankness, I imagined Aleksey’s blood-crusted hands gripping my hips, his coarse fingers digging into me.
I was right on the edge, choking out desperate gasps as I pumped my cock harder, the need building too fast.
I bit my lip to keep quiet, my free hand gripping the bedsheets. The fabric twisted in my palm as I shifted on the mattress, imagining Aleksey’s body over mine, his split lip brushing my neck while he pinned me in place.
Then a noise echoed through the thin drywall separating our rooms.
It was the unmistakable, rhythmic shifting of weight on a mattress, followed by a low, ragged exhale that bled right through the cheap plaster.
I froze mid-stroke, my grip tightening as every muscle in my body went rigid. I held my breath, listening to the steady cadence on the other side of the wall. It mirrored my own.
A terrifying thrill shot down my spine. The urge to shame myself out of it vanished, replaced by a sudden, consuming hunger. I squeezed my eyes shut and fully gave in to the image of Aleksey pinning me down. Staring at the dark ceiling, I knew I was crossing a line I could never walk back from.
