“It started out looking at guys in drag, and it went downhill from there.”
Ollie pulls back as if contemplating that. “Drag queens, huh? Is that your thing?”
“Oh, we are so not getting into this.” And I’m so not confessing the drag thing was out of curiosity. My true fantasy is jocks. Exactly like him. Not going to tell him that either. “You won’t let me see your collection, so you get nothing from me.”
He thinks about it for a moment before turning to me. “Well, now I want you to look. I feel like I need to defend my porn choices.”
Is he seriously suggesting I watch his porn? With him … like … right there?
The smug challenge in his eyes almost has me pushing the button, but the slight blush on his cheeks makes me think he’s bluffing. God, I want to know what he’s into …
No! Bad Lennon.
That would only add to the conflicting feelings I already have for Ollie.
“I refuse to kink shame, so it’s safer if I can’t see what’s possible to judge.” I clear my throat and look at the screen again. “Don’t you worry about, you know, one of your teammates stumbling across this?”
“I have a passcode, and I’m not really in the habit of leaving expensive things like iPads lying around the place.”
“Expensive? Isn’t this junk change to you?” I hold up his tablet.
Ollie shrugs. “We never had a lot of money growing up. I mean, we weren’t poor or anything—far from it—but five boys in one household costs a shit ton without the extra bells and whistles like toys and gadgets. Then in my first year playing for Providence, I was on shitty pay. It gradually became more and more, so it kinda feels like I still don’t have money even though I do. I dunno, it’s hard to explain, but yeah, growing up the way I did, I know not to leave my shit lying around the place. For more reasons than just privacy.”
“Makes sense.”
The icon mocks us as we stare at it, and then each other, and then away. God, we’re pathetic.
I click on the folder labeled Classics just so we can get away from temptation. My entire face lights up. “Wait. You think Thor is a classic? Where are the real ones like Cool Hand Luke and The Princess Bride? This is even more disturbing than your porn choices.”
“Hey, you never saw my porn choices.”
“I’m still going with clown porn.”
“I promise no clown porn. I think the most adventurous thing on there is, like, group stuff.”
My cock shamefully perks up at that as if it has its own ears and is listening in. I shift to try to make it less obvious, and I think Ollie knows what he’s doing to me, because he grins.
The safest, most boner-killing movie catches my attention. “Okay, we’re watching this one.”
Ollie groans. “Dirty Dancing? What the hell?”
“Need I remind you this is your tablet and your movie collection?”
“Fucking Ash. He had the worst taste in movies.”
“Sure, try to blame the ex.”
“So much for not falling asleep,” Ollie says. “Are you really going to make me watch this?”
“Yup.”
We settle in to watch the movie, lying next to each other with the tablet between us, and even though I’m keenly aware of how close his body is, can feel his body heat, and have to concentrate hard on the movie that’s supposed to suppress my boner, it turns out Ollie makes an excellent point. If you don’t want to fall asleep—don’t watch Dirty Dancing.
A rough hand grazes my cheek, and I lean into it. I think I might also moan.
Ollie’s chuckle brings me out of my daze, and I slowly open my eyes and realize …
Shit, I fell asleep.
I startle awake and turn my head toward Ollie, who’s staring at me with a small smile. His hand still lingers on my cheek, and I don’t understand what’s happening.
“What’s going on?” I croak.
“As cute as you are when you’re sleeping, you promised me you’d keep me awake until my roommate came back.”
I bolt upright, looking frantically around the empty hotel room. “Roommate?”
Ollie laughs. “It’s okay. I messaged Kessler, and he said Petrov took off with some puck bunny. He probably won’t be back tonight at all.”
“Then why are you waking me?” I grumble and settle back onto the pillow.
“Because you’re in my bed.”
Surely, the sleep deprivation and half-passed-out state I’m in is imagining the sexy growl in his voice.
“My bed is, like, an hour away,” I complain and close my eyes again.
“Isn’t it down the block in the next hotel over?” Ollie asks.
“If you make me get up and crawl my ass in that direction, it’ll take an hour to get there.”
“Fine. Stay. But just … I don’t want to be a dick about this, but can you, umm … set an alarm, and—”