“I’m getting the impression you’re looking for more than just pain and submission. I think you’re looking for it fromhim.”
I closed my eyes and held Devon closer.
What if Sanjay was right? Because… Because I probably just needed to stop mentally arguing with him. More and more, I was pretty fucking sure hewasright, and I had no idea what to do with that.
Yes. Yes, I was looking for all of that and more with Devon. There was no point in pretending I wasn’t. That energy was far better off focused on figuring out what to do with that truth. I was Devon’s coach. Being with me would damage his career in ways I couldn’t allow. And really, what did a twenty-five-year-old up-and-coming hockey star need with a forty-three year-old whose body had already been through the sport’s wringer? Most pro players, whether gay or straight, married models. Hell,I’dbeen married to a model.
I was most definitely not a model myself, and Devon could do far better. He could find someone closer to his age and his league, and who wouldn’t jeopardize his career.
I had to get it through my head that all we had was this week. I’d savor every second and every sensation, and then I would go back to Abbotsford, get back on the apps, and move on.
Because after this week, no matter how much I wanted him—no matter how much Ineededhim—I couldn’t have Devon.
CHAPTER 24
DEVON
“Come on, it’ll be fun.”
Jack eyed me. “Your definition of fun and mine appear to be very different.”
“You didn’t invite me to go to the Dominican Republic with you—you invited me to Tofino. In February. Were you seriously thinking we were just going to hunker down by the fire and do kinky stuff?”
“Well…” He eyed the beach with the crashing waves beyond it.
“Jack?”
“Mmm?”
“We’re notactuallygoing surfing. That’s for the people who need their heads examined.”
“Wetsuits?”
“Yes,theywear wetsuits. Since we’re not actually getting into the ocean, we don’t.”
He didn’t appear convinced.
“Jack?”
“Mmm?”
“How have you survived this many years doing hockey—since you were what, five?”
“Something like that.
“Okay, since you were five…and you don’t like the cold. Are you—” I eyed him. “—a wimp?”
“Hey.” He put his hands on his hips. “I’m just saying we have a lovely fire going. We’re nice and toasty warm, we’ve got a television we can watch. Maybe play a video game. Definitely get kinky. And?—”
I tossed him his coat. His freaking wool coat. “It’s above freezing.”
“By six degrees.”
“Really?” I checked my phone. “It’s two degrees. Not eight.”
“No. It’s thirty-eight. You Canadians.”
I arched an eyebrow. “You really want to go there? Our zero is the freezing point. Our one hundred is the boiling point. We use factors of ten. How does anything else possibly make sense?”