Breakaway Goals, page 12
Hayes was pretty sure Danny wanted another drink too and was just standing here because he felt sorry for Hayes and how stupid he was, wanting to go to his room and sulk because he’d fucked it all up.
“No,” Hayes said, licking his lips, suddenly not sure.
“Buddy, you done fucked up, and that’s the thing about Mo—he doesn’t like fuckups,” Danny said sympathetically.
Hayes wanted to smack him in the face, but adding another fight to his total wasn’t going to solve this problem.
“Believe me, I know,” Hayes said.
Danny patted him on the shoulder. “You see that quote making the rounds, the one he gave to the media about you?”
Hayes shook his head. He’d kept his phone in his pocket at dinner. Didn’t want to look at it. Feel like he needed to answer the dozens of texts and messages he’d gotten about his fight and then his goal.
“You should look for it,” Danny said, patting him again as the elevator door opened. “I’m gonna go grab another beer. You sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine,” Hayes said, even though he really fucking wasn’t. Danny nodded and Hayes got on the elevator, pushing his floor button with more force than entirely necessary.
He’d had the nerve to lecture Morgan Reynolds about keeping a tight leash on his temper and then he’d lost his own so spectacularly, so publicly, it was a fucking wonder that wasn’t all everyone was talking about. It was why he’d taken the shot in the third instead of passing it to Morgan.
He’d wanted to distract himself. The team. The media. The coaches. Morgan.
And it had worked really fucking well, except that Hayes was sure Morgan wasn’t fooled at all. He didn’t seem fooled.
Hayes got off on the seventh floor and was halfway down the hallway to his room when he realized there was a figure standing by the door.
His steps slowed when he realized who it was, but there was no way to turn around and avoid this. Morgan had seen him. That much was obvious from his steady gaze as Hayes approached.
“Thought you went for another drink,” Hayes said after he reached the point of no return. He pulled the key card out of his pocket and toyed with it, not opening the door. If he did, he’d have to know one way or another if Morgan was coming inside, and he didn’t want to face that answer.
“Took the stairs.” Morgan huffed under his breath. And yeah, there was a sheen of sweat on his forehead. What an absolute fucking lunatic. Playing a whole ass hockey game and then running up seven flights of stairs. But Hayes shouldn’t call the kettle black right now. Not when Morgan was staring at him like he’d analyzed every one of Hayes’ molecules and found them all wanting.
“Wanted to talk to you,” Morgan continued.
“Yeah, no shit,” Hayes said under his breath.
Morgan shot him a chiding look. “What the fuck were you thinking?”
“Amazed you didn’t unload that question hours ago,” was all Hayes could say.
“I wanted to, but everyone got in the fucking way, and then I thought maybe it might be better to ask when I wanted to wring your neck less,” Morgan admitted. He was actually almost smiling, the corner of his lips tilting up, and Hayes felt unmoored by it.
This wasn’t funny.
He’d admonished Morgan about fucking up their game plan, and then he’d gone in and done it with gusto. Morgan should be pissed, rightly.
“Do you?” Hayes asked.
“Do I what?”
“Want to wring my neck less?”
Morgan did laugh then, but it wasn’t as amused as Hayes thought it might be, considering he’d just almost smiled at the half-joke he’d made.
“Are we really going to do this out here in the hallway?” Morgan asked instead of answering the question.
“Maybe I want the possibility of an audience if you do wring my neck,” Hayes said.
Morgan rolled his eyes. “Come on,” he said.
It was not the “Come here,” that they’d both been using on each other up until this point, but it was enough of an echo, reminding Hayes of everything that had been so good, of all the pleasure that inevitably came after one of them said it.
He opened the door but didn’t make a move farther into the room. Like he was telling Morgan that whatever they had to say to each other in anger had to stay here, in this tiny ass hallway.
Of course, that didn’t really help that much, considering only a few days ago, Morgan had kissed him right here and pushed him back against this wall, his tongue in Hayes’ mouth.
“Better?” Hayes challenged.
“You don’t get the right to be an ass about this,” Morgan said, suddenly crowding him back against the wall, muscling him right into the same spot he’d done that first time. Arms on either side of Hayes’ head, leaning right in.
Hayes’ body reacted only because of the déjà vu. Or else that was what he told himself, mouth and thighs falling open.
Like it didn’t even matter if Morgan was pissed, Hayes wanted him anyway.
“Are you even fucking sorry?” Morgan demanded.
“I’m . . .” He was sorry. But not that sorry. “Bennett took you down, tried to fucking take you out, and I’m supposed to apologize for being pissed about that?”
“I had it under control,” Morgan said between clenched teeth. “I do fight sometimes—”
“Unlike me. I get it.”
“We had a game plan, Montgomery, and you just went charging off it, like you were a white knight riding to my fucking rescue.” Morgan’s jaw was hard, his gaze unrelenting as he stared at Hayes.
Despite his long reputation, Hayes had always thought Morgan’s hazel eyes were warm and unexpectedly soft. But they were not warm now. They were bone hard, pinning him like a steel beam.
“I wasn’t,” Hayes argued, even though that was exactly what he’d done. Morgan had gone down, and his heart had been in his throat, his stomach in his skates, and nothing could’ve stopped him in that moment. Nothing.
He’d have gone through the entire Canadian team to get to Morgan.
“Don’t lie to me.” Morgan pressed in harder. “You’re not here to be my fucking rescuer, you’re here to score goals, and sure you did—”
“I did,” Hayes interrupted, raising his chin. Morgan could be hard, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t meet him there. “I fucking did.”
For a long second, Morgan just stared at him, and then to Hayes’ shock—even to Morgan’s too, it seemed, considering the astonishment crossing over his face—he laughed. Scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “Yeah, you fucking did. You sure fucking did. Shut us all up. Made me crazy. I wanted to kill you and kiss you. I don’t even know, Monty.”
Hayes met that melting gaze. “So do both,” he said.
Morgan laughed, unamused. “Don’t tempt me.”
“Why not?”
That was the point where Morgan pushed away from the wall, abruptly. “This is . . .”
There were so many ways he could end that sentence.
This is stupid.
This is foolish.
This is everything.
This is over.
Hayes couldn’t take the risk that he might say a thing he couldn’t bear to hear, so he grabbed Morgan’s wrist and reeled him in. Kissed him hard and fast. Intense.
They stumbled into the room, onto the bed. Hayes tripped over one of his shoes. Morgan’s hands wrenched his pants off, their mouths barely separating even for a second, even when Hayes pulled Morgan’s T-shirt off.
They fell together onto the mattress, Hayes crawling over Morgan’s body. He was shirtless, but still wearing jeans, no shoes, one sock half-off.
“God, I want you so bad,” Morgan groaned as Hayes pulled his jeans off. The sock lost its fight and went with them. “So fucking bad.” He panted, bare chest rising and falling. “Even when I want to wring your neck.”
Hayes didn’t trust himself to speak. He only wanted to feel. Pressed his lips against Morgan’s stomach, feeling the muscles clench as he did, tongue trailing down to the waistband of his boxer briefs, saliva soaking the fabric as he shifted lower.
Everything narrowed in to just the feel of Morgan underneath him, the taste of him heavy on his tongue, the way his cock twitched as Hayes trailed his fingers up its hard length.
“Shit, baby, please,” Morgan begged.
Morgan begged.
Hayes couldn’t deal with that right now, couldn’t even begin to contemplate what that meant now, and what that meant for the future.
So he didn’t think about it at all.
Let his focus narrow down to just Morgan and making him feel good.
He finally pulled down his boxer briefs, and they both moaned the moment Hayes got his mouth on his cock.
It was so easy to lose himself in it, a tunnel vision of taste and touch and feel as Morgan’s hands buried themselves in his hair, rhythmically clenching and releasing as Hayes took him deeper. He choked a little, unable to take it all but wanting to, so desperately.
“Feels so good, baby,” Morgan murmured, voice rough. His hand slipped down, cupped Hayes’ cheek, tender and affectionate.
Hayes groaned around his cock. The tenderness shouldn’t be as much of a turn-on as the rest of it, but it was.
He was only seconds away from pressing a hard palm against his own dick, aching and desperate for something, when Morgan gave a little aborted groan, fingers tightening in his hair again, and he came down Hayes’ throat.
Hayes swallowed around him, panting as he finally let Morgan’s softening cock slip from his lips. Pressing his lips to Morgan’s thigh, he tried to catch his breath.
Tried to re-orient himself back to the place where this was just a hookup, and Morgan wasn’t staring at him like he was the moon and the sun and the stars.
The same fucking way you’ve always looked at him.
It was a problem, but it was an easy enough problem to push away, to pretend didn’t exist at all, when Morgan was pulling him up, flipping them and tugging Hayes’ underwear off. Hand hot and insistent on Hayes’ dick as pleasure spiraled through him.
“That feel good?” Morgan crooned, his gaze so intent on Hayes’ face.
Hayes nodded. It felt fucking incredible, and he still wanted more. Wanted to gorge himself, even if he wasn’t sure he’d ever be full.
“Bet this would feel even better,” Morgan said, dipping his head low, sucking just the head of his cock into his hot mouth.
“Yeah, yeah.” Hayes knew he was babbling now, probably sounding nearly incoherent with it.
And then Morgan’s thumb, wet with saliva, slipped lower, pressing right against his hole, and Hayes groaned.
He hadn’t even wanted to bring up anything more than they were doing. First off, because the stuff they were doing was so excruciatingly good, and second, because there was a part of him, buried and shameful, that was afraid he’d scare Morgan away. That he’d make it “too gay.”
But of course, Morgan had no qualms about this. Just lifted his head and met Hayes’ eyes. “Do you like this?” he asked, direct with zero fuss whatsoever. No pressure, like Hayes had to, or like it would be a problem if he said yes.
Hayes nodded.
“You gotta say it, baby, out loud, okay?”
That shouldn’t have been so hot either, but Hayes felt like he was burning up inside at how good Morgan was. Careful but pushy. Tender but strong. Everything he’d ever wanted in a partner, and there it was, in the last place he’d ever expected to look.
You can’t think about that now.
He couldn’t really, anyway, because Morgan was pushing a finger inside him, and it was lighting Hayes up inside.
“Wanna make you come so hard.” It was unclear if Morgan was saying that to Hayes—or himself. Or if it even mattered.
The sentiment was enough, and then Morgan hit that spot inside him at the same time as he sucked hard on the head of his cock, and Hayes was gone. His orgasm surged through him with a strength that had him whiting out.
When he finally came back down to earth, slowly blinking his eyes open, Morgan was staring at him with a very smug look on his face.
“God, that was so hot,” Morgan said. “You’re so hot.”
Hayes covered his face with his hands. It wasn’t shame exactly. It wasn’t even embarrassment at how much he’d enjoyed it. It was like he was broken open, everything exposed to the air now and to Morgan’s perusal, and he couldn’t hope to hide it anymore.
“Don’t do that,” Morgan chided gently and pried Hayes’ hands off his face. “I like looking at you.”
How was Hayes not supposed to melt into an absolute puddle of goo at that?
“I like looking at you, too,” Hayes admitted.
Morgan propped his head up on his hand. “I don’t want to make things weird . . .”
“You’re worried about that now?” Hayes chuckled under his breath.
“Fair.” Morgan licked his lips. Hayes wanted to lean in and kiss him again. Not think about whatever it was Morgan wanted to do that might make this whole thing more difficult than it already was.
“How much would you freak out if I said I didn’t want to go?” Morgan finally asked.
“Tonight?” Hayes tried not to freak out, but he was, and it was hard to hide.
Morgan nodded. “I know it’s not really a hookup kind of thing, but I don’t want to go. I’m . . .I like being here with you. Like this. It makes it . . .” He took a deep breath. “It makes some of this easier.”
It suddenly occurred to Hayes that as much pressure as he felt, in this tournament, it had to be tenfold for Morgan.
He hadn’t been on a national team in years and now Morgan was here as the captain, expected to bring home the gold for Team USA. Nevermind all the baggage about how Morgan felt about nearing the end of his career and being forced to confront it, because of Hayes’ presence here.
Honestly, because of that Hayes shouldn’t even be that person for Morgan—the one who made the burdens easier to carry—but it seemed like he was, anyway.
“You make it easier too,” Hayes said and he took a chance, half-nuzzling into Morgan’s shoulder.
They weren’t cuddling exactly but close enough.
Close enough that Hayes wasn’t even sure what else he’d call it.
“That shouldn’t be true,” Morgan said softly, “but it is.”
For the first time, Hayes let himself really seriously think about what this might have been if they didn’t play on opposite sides of the country.
But they did, there was no reason to believe that might change anytime soon and, as a result, there was only so far it could go, unless they were considering long-distance a viable possibility.
“Yeah,” Hayes agreed. Wondered, also for the first time, if he should say something. They’d both seemed happy enough to keep it just sex, a fun hookup, at first, but now things were deepening. Changing.
Maybe it was like Danny said—the first overall thing, rearing its head. Or maybe it was something else.
“You should stay,” Hayes continued before he could stop himself. “If you want to.”
“I want to,” Morgan said.
And that something else reared up again, insistent and undeniable, at least until Hayes pushed it away.
Something else was a problem for a different day, for a Hayes who’d already been through the next game, the championship game.
Not a Hayes who just wanted to fall asleep to Morgan’s steady breathing.
Chapter 8
Danny came up to Hayes after morning skate and leaned over him. “Hey,” he said, “how are you doin’, kid?”
Hayes shot him a look. “First off, we’re the same age and second off, what did you do now?”
“Who said I did anything?” Danny asked, with exaggerated innocence.
Hayes rolled his eyes. “You’re a terrible liar. And not subtle, either.”
“Okay,” Danny said, “fair. I wanted to know what you thought of some of these quotes going around about you.”
“What quotes?” Once they were confirmed to be in the championship game, Hayes had inevitably had to do media yesterday. Some of the other guys had too. But he hadn’t ended up paired with Morgan again, which he wasn’t sure he was relieved or disappointed about.
“You haven’t heard, then,” Danny said with smug satisfaction and then pulled his phone out of his sweatpants. “Let me tell you what our illustrious captain is saying about you these days.”
“Danny,” Hayes warned him.
“No, no, it’s good. And you should hear this.”
“I specifically go out of my way not to read the press shit. Especially when it’s about me,” Hayes said. Even though if he knew Morgan was saying good stuff about him, he might’ve been very tempted.
But no. Because the something else was already taking up a part of him, growing with very single moment he spent in Morgan’s presence, and he was worried that Zach might’ve been right after all when he wondered if this whole thing was going to fuck Hayes up, in the end.
“You’re gonna want to hear this,” Danny said. He put a hand on his hip and affected what he probably thought was a Morgan-like tone. Hayes didn’t tell him it was a terrible impression, but he could have. “Monty’s a vital part of this team. Maybe the most important piece we have. Blah blah something else about the goal you scored against Canada and then someone asked if that could really be true if Morgan’s the first line center and he said, and I fucking quote, Monty, I’m only here to make him look as good as he really is. He fucking said that. About you. To the media. Unprompted.”
“Danny,” Hayes said weakly, “I don’t understand the point of this.”
“Do you really not get it or are you in some serious denial?”
Serious denial. Digging my way in deeper every single day.
Hayes just shrugged. “It’s . . .it’s an honor to play with him too.”
“The way Morgan’s talking, it’s more than just an honor to play with you. And you know, you have to know, he didn’t like talking about you before this. Kinda went out of his way to avoid talking about you.”
