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“What is Hughes Thanksgiving?”
“It’s Hughes’ annual Thanksgiving party that used to be for the single guys, but since he’s all coupled up with CC now, it’s pretty much for everyone. If you want to meet Mr. Wiggles, you have to come to Hughes Thanksgiving.”
Nolan looked mildly skeptical. “Do I want to meet Mr. Wiggles?”
“You definitely, definitely do.”
“Okay,” Nolan said, somewhat reluctantly. “Is he some kind of, I don’t know, hockey guru or something?”
That just made Eli laugh harder.
chapter
nine
“Oh fuck, Eli, yes.” Nolan nearly wailed as his orgasm took over his body. He went cross-eyed, and a bead of sweat trickled down his temple.
Eli was only a second behind him, coming with a drawn-out groan before he collapsed onto Nolan’s heaving chest. “Damn,” Eli breathed from Nolan’s neck. “That was so good. I’m going to kill it at morning skate today.”
Nolan chuckled. “Nothing like some morning sex to get the body revving.”
Eli pushed himself onto his forearms and looked down at him. It was dark in the room, the sun not yet risen, and Eli was mostly shadow. “What are you going to do?”
“Go back to sleep if you’re not kicking me out.”
“Of course not.” Eli dropped a quick kiss on his lips, then slowly pulled out of Nolan. “One of us should get to sleep in.”
As he rose, holding the condom in place, Nolan lifted his head to check his phone. 6:37. “I do not envy a hockey player’s schedule.”
“You get used to it,” Eli called from the en suite. “Besides, what’s not to love about mornings?”
“The fact that it’s morning,” Nolan muttered. He cleaned himself off with the wet cloth Eli tossed him with a cheery “Heads up!”, then dozed lightly, conscious of Eli cleaning up in the bathroom.
He hadn’t meant to stay the night. They’d eventually ordered dinner because toast, canned soup, and chips weren’t enough to sustain Nolan, never mind a hundred-and-eighty-pound professional athlete. Along with Nolan’s meal, Eli had ordered an appetizer and two entrées—for himself—and eaten it all, which had made Nolan laugh. They’d put on a movie that they’d half watched while chatting until Eli had crawled toward him and stuck his face between Nolan’s legs.
Yeah, Nolan could definitely see the merits of his hockey rink-sized couch.
After that, Eli had asked if he wanted to try out his bed next, and what? Nolan was supposed to say no?
He wasn’t that stupid.
“Hey, Eli,” Nolan had said last night, leaning against Eli’s bedroom doorjamb. “How come you don’t have a bed frame?”
“Because it’s an unnecessary expense. A mattress works just as well on the floor.”
“Huh. I suppose you have a point.”
“I usually do,” Eli had quipped, parroting Nolan’s earlier comment.
Now Nolan smiled at the memory. The sound of the water came on in the bathroom, splashing against the sink and lulling Nolan to sleep.
Except he was rudely awakened by his ringing phone.
Grumbling, he reached out for it without opening his eyes, rapping his knuckles on the side of Eli’s nightstand in the process. “Ow, fuck. Hello?”
“Rise and shine, sleepyhead,” King said in his ear, sounding much too awake at barely seven in the morning.
“Fuck you,” Nolan replied sleepily.
