Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 51902 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51902 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
“How do you teach someone hockey at a diner?” Brady puzzled.
“You quiz them on terminology and shit like that. Look lively, gentlemen,” I taunted, passing to Brady…because he wasn’t ready and I derived sick pleasure in watching him scramble after the puck while Langley growled in frustration.
Petty? Me?
“You’re an asshole, Erickson.” Langley snorted, tapping his stick to mine good-naturedly as Coach blew his whistle, signaling the end of practice. “Hey, party at my place after the game tomorrow. Bring your new friend.”
He was teasing but also…not.
Langley wouldn’t care who showed up to one of his keggers. The more the merrier. He was genuinely friendly to everyone. But showing up to a party with Malcolm was different than hanging out at the rink. People would wonder who he was to me. I could hear them already, What’s with you and the physics dude?
I didn’t think Malcolm would be into that, but what did I know? I didn’t think he’d agree to an impromptu hockey lesson, and that had happened. I’d been as surprised as my buddies, maybe more so. Malcolm hadn’t been anxious, and he hadn’t tripped over his skates, either. He’d been perfectly fine taking pointers from my teammates. It had been a weird case of my worlds mixing and nobody giving a flying fuck, and it had thrown me off guard. But damn, it was kind of cool.
Maybe he’d been distracted by his good news, or maybe he’d liked being outside of his comfort zone.
Or maybe he felt as safe with me as I did with him.
I hoped so.
Knock knock
I slicked my damp hair from my forehead and opened the door for Malcolm. He held a bag up like an offering, skirting around me.
“I brought aphrodisiacs,” he announced.
“Excuse me?”
“Strawberries, Fig Newtons, and a bar of chocolate. I wasn’t sure how you felt about oysters, pomegranates, or watermelon, but those foods are rather messy to eat. Not that I think we’ll need them, but they couldn’t hurt,” he commented, tripping over his feet and barreling into the lamp on the end table.
“Hey, are you okay?” I steadied the lamp and set the grocery bag on the table.
“Fine, fine, yes…fine.” Malcolm pulled his glasses off, rubbed them on his V-neck sweater, put them on his nose, then wiped his palms on his khakis.
Nope. Not fine at all.
“So…what’s an aphrodisiac?”
Okay, I knew the definition, but I also knew that sharing knowledge was Malcolm’s jam and that he’d relax faster with a “teaching moment” than if he were told to chill.
“Glad you asked. Aphrodisiacs are substances that enhance sexual performance and enjoyment. As with all things, everyone is different. I, personally, find oysters revolting. Too slimy for my taste. I don’t like clams either, which is strange because I love clam chowder soup. Do you like clam chowder? My mom makes a wonderful—”
I grabbed his shoulder and crashed my mouth over his, sliding my tongue inside and kissing the hell out of him. He sighed and wrapped his arms around my neck as I pulled him close, cupping his ass and angling my head to deepen the connection. He hummed, breaking the kiss with a dreamy sigh.
“Hey, listen up.” I grazed my thumb along his lower lip. “We’re not going to do anything you won’t like. I promise. And if you change your mind and don’t want to do anything at all, that’s okay too. We can watch a movie or find some Star Trek reruns.”
Malcolm bit his lip and shook his head. “I think too much. It’s not good for me sometimes.”
“I do that too.” I stepped toward the table and sifted through the grocery bag, pulling the package of Fig Newtons out. “I didn’t know these things made your dick hard.”
“Technically speaking, it’s supposed to be figs on their own, but I could only find the cookie version. That might have been an impulse purchase of the “eat your feelings” variety, because I honestly can’t think of a less sexy food than a Fig Newton.”
I agreed, but I tore at the plastic wrapping anyway and pulled out a cookie. “Let’s try one and see what happens.”
I held it to his pursed lips, barely containing a needy groan as he darted his tongue out, opened up and bit into the soft outer layer. He lowered his eyelids to half-mast, rescuing a crumb at the corner of his mouth.
And what do you know…my cock swelled in my sweats.
Malcolm chewed thoughtfully. “Do you think it’s working? Maybe I need to eat the whole thing.”
“Trust me, it’s fucking working,” I rasped.
He glanced down on cue. “Oh. So I see.”
“What are you gonna do about this?”
“What can I do?” he asked, dragging his teeth across his bottom lip.
The faux-innocent act sent another pulse of desire south. The tent in my sweats was impressive by anyone’s standards now.