I turn to Anton. “Who knew Coach had a sense of humor?”
“I’m a hoot,” Coach says dryly. “That was all. Stop with the bullshit, and focus on what’s important, okay? Focus on winning, and they won’t care what you two do on or off the ice.”
“Yes, sir,” Anton says.
Coach makes a swirling motion with his finger. “You can turn around now.”
Anton and I try not to laugh at each other and face the front.
We don’t talk for the entire flight. Anton shoves his pods in his ears and watches something on his phone, while I dive headfirst into all the new articles online about Anton and me.
They’re a little unnerving. Anton and I have always made waves with our known rivalry, but with the trade and rumors of us actually being friends, speculation is getting out of hand.
And when I read an article that implies there might be even more than friendship between us, my gut sinks.
West used to have these kinds of rumors swirling around about him all the time, and he didn’t care, but he was ready to come out if he needed to. He didn’t want to make a big song and dance about it, but he was fine if people knew.
Anton … I don’t think he’s ready for any of that yet. I’m not sure how he’ll take the news that rumors have started about him. He was fine coming out to that kid and his dad, but that’s two people. It’s not the whole damn world.
I stare over at him. He seems relaxed and not like his usual uptight self. I’m sure the fuckfest we had last night has something to do with that, but given the choice, would Anton put his reputation on the line for sex with Ezra Palaszczuk?
It’s explosive sex, but there needs to be a line somewhere. At what point does this whole thing become not worth the risk? Obviously, my bar is probably set higher than a lot of people’s. I get the impression Anton has a low threshold.
When we land in Denver, I haven’t decided if I will show Anton or not.
Kosik sidles up to me as we head for the bus to go to the hotel. “Is it true? Have all my dreams come true?”
“Your nightmares maybe. You’ve lost me as a roommate. I know how devastating that is for you, but if you really miss me, I can sneak into your room and spoon you again if you like.”
“Fuck off, Ez.” He laughs. “Rooming with the rookie has to be ten times better than rooming with you.”
“Good luck,” Anton says behind us. “Moreau snores.”
“It’s true,” Diedrich adds. “My kids are scared of him after he stayed with us a few weeks. They think when he sleeps, he turns into a monster.”
Kosik purses his lips. “Hmm, nah, still has to be better than being dragged into the middle of some dumbass feud.”
“Mm, we’ll see. You can always come running back to me.” I blow him a kiss.
“In your dreams. If you’re hitting on me, you must be hard up for some action. Maybe you need to get laid.”
“Normally, I’d disagree with you, but I think you might be right.”
Anton’s eyes lock with mine.
“Getting laid sounds like a brilliant idea.”
Anton shifts and turns away, but not before I see his lips twitch.
We can’t get to the hotel fast enough, and he must think so too, because the second we get our key cards to the room, he moves toward the elevators faster than lightning.
I’m about to follow him when I notice Diedrich watching. His gaze flits between the both of us, suspicion lacing his features, but then he shakes his head as if to say me and Anton hooking up is impossible.
“He’s going to dead-bolt you out of the room,” Diedrich says.
“Oh, shit.” I rush after Anton, taking the excuse and running with it.
But it doesn’t take long to process what happened just now with our captain. It might have only been a brief second before dismissing it, but he made the connection—the same one people in the media are starting to make.
I catch up to Anton as he opens our room, and he holds the door open for me.
“Don’t pretend to be a gentleman now,” I snark.
“Mm, what I want to do to you isn’t gentlemanly at all.”
We dump our bags, and then Anton backs us up so he can push me against the wall. His arms box me in, and my lips tingle to kiss him again.
“I have to say, this new rooming arrangement is kind of perfect,” Anton says.
It is. It really is. Or, it would be if I didn’t have this massive hesitance hanging over my head. My face must show it because Anton backs up a bit.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
“I want this. I really, really want to have all the orgasms with you, but …” I bite my lip. “I’m having an attack of conscience here.”