Page 47 of Home Ice

My smile widens, and after a short moment, his does too. “Nothing like finding out all the ways my best friend betrayed me.”

The words make something in my chest stutter. I know he means best friends in past tense, but it’s almost painful how much I want it again. Like if I want it enough, I could somehow reach across the table and bring back everything we had.

“If it makes you feel better, now that I have something to compare it to, the sex wasn’t that great.”

He hmphs.

“Very clumsy. Lots of rushed moments. I thought it was incredible because I’d never had a man’s mouth around my cock before, but in hindsight, we both didn’t know better. I definitely used too much teeth and couldn’t for the life of me figure out deep-throating.”

Hawke just stares.

“What was your first time like?”

He breaks out of the frozen moment. “I told you when it happened. It was great.” Some of the stiffness melts. “When I first joined the league, I had a casual thing with one of the WAGs’ sisters. Let’s just say she was older and knew what she liked, and it didn’t take me long to appreciate where experience can get you.”

It does not surprise me at all to know Hawke had a fling with an older woman. “And … men?”

He grins. “My first time with one was in a threesome. It was … enlightening.”

“Like your first time all over again?”

“I was so fucking nervous.” He plays with his nose ring, caught up in the memory. “But I finally got to lick a man’s nipple.”

My laugh bursts from me. “What is it with you and nipples?”

“They’re hot?” He shrugs unashamedly. “I blame you. Yours started my obsession.”

I’m leaning forward again. “What did you like about them?”

“They’re … just …” He fists his glass like he’s going to take another sip but can’t make his hand do it. “I dunno … pretty.”

“What about them is pretty?” I’m enjoying this way too much.

“Fuck off, Barrett. We’re not sitting here talking about your nipples.”

“You started it.” I kick his foot under the table. “Come on, you saw them yesterday. Are they still pretty?”

“No clue.”

“Don’t act like you weren’t looking.”

Then, tops of his ears turning red, he leans in so we’re eye to eye. “You and me both know they’re not the only things I was looking at.”

Heat rushes from my scalp to my feet, but before I can answer, the food buzzer lights up between us. The obnoxious noise is like a blast of chilly air to my face, and I hurriedly pull away.

I grab the buzzer and point it at him. “This saved you from giving me a real answer.” But because I refuse to let this moment pass without leaning into it, I promise him, “Next time, you won’t be so lucky.”

It’s only when I stand up to grab our food that I realize I’m half-hard from the conversation.

Hawke is going to kill me.

Chapter Fifteen

JENSEN

The beers go down easily. Conversation turns to what people from our grad year are doing now, who we think will win the Stanley Cup next, heckling over two rounds of pool before we return to our booth, all the while circling around the past and how it almost feels like we’re rewriting it.

“It’s offensive you even need to ask,” Barrett says, his permanently happy face trying to pull into something sour. “Of course Jonathan Bailey is hotter than Ezra Palaszczuk. Have you seen those slutty little glasses?”