Kingston struggled to break free, even kicking in protest, but Jake held him fast—unyielding as steel. He had no choice but to sit still as the cloth scrubbed over his face, down his chest, and through his hair, relentlessly until his skin felt clean.
“There, now get in the shower,” said Jake. “You’re still sweaty.”
Kingston ducked out of Jake’s arms and crawled to the edge of the bed, nearly falling out of it when his legs refused to take his weight. “If I was getting in the shower, why did you use the cloth?!”
Jake took his time looking between the cloth in his hand and Kingston. “I don’t know. I didn’t want you to accidentally get cum in your eye. That’s how you get an infection.”
The man was so cute that Kingston felt obligated to forgive him, especially when he was pouting.
“Right,” said Allen, his mouth curling into a mischievous smirk. “And you might want to clench on the way to the bathroom, or you’re going to leave a trail.”
The thought of clenching anything made Kingston want to crawl into a hole and die. Now that his prostate wasn’t getting jackhammered, he was becoming aware of how damn sore he was.
He found himself in a mini standstill beside the bed, too scared to move, while dealing with a brain that hadn’t fully rebooted. His salvation came in the form of his tall, annoying rival, who stood from the bed and locked eyes with him—and then promptly picked Kingston up like he was a fucking princess.
“Don’t bitch, just let me carry you,” Riley said, tucking Kingston closer so he could restrain him better. “It’s ten feet. I’m sure your masculinity can survive the trip.”
It would be easier to accept if Riley hadn’t made picking him up look so goddamn effortless. Kingston wasn’t light, but the asshole wasn’t even trying to act like carrying him was difficult.
But since Riley had been an acceptable lay, Kingston held back his comments through a clenched jaw and let him do what he wanted.
Riley chuckled, closing the bathroom door once they were inside to give them privacy, and gently placed Kingston’s feet on the shower floor. He kept an arm around Kingston’s body to help keep him steady as he turned the water on and got it to the perfect temperature.
“You okay?”
Kingston had known the question was coming, so he brushed it off before he could get cranky about it. “I am. It was great. Don’t ask me again.”
Steam was filling the small space, making the world feel warm and hazy.
Or maybe that was the way it would always feel when Riley pulled him into his arms and kissed the curve of his ear. Kingston was running out of environmental excuses he could use to explain why his body reacted to the man holding him.
Things were getting complicated, and Kingston hated complicated.
“We need to talk,” Kingston said, resting his chin on Riley’s shoulder so he could take in his scent and melt into his touch.
“Yes,” said Riley. “We do.”
20 /RILEY
The jingleof Riley’s keys was loud in the silence as he hung them on the hook inside his apartment. He could feel Kingston behind him, looming heavily like a storm cloud that was about to burst open and drench him in torrential showers.
They hadn’t said anything beyond two words to each other during the drive home. Even having Allen as the go-between hadn’t helped. Riley wasn’t sure if it was something about the sex that had thrown Kingston off, or if it was a deeper issue, but he was determined to talk now that they were alone and in a space they both felt safe in.
“Can we?—”
“I’m not running to my room,” Kingston muttered. “I’m sitting on the couch, so grab me a beer.”
Kingston strode past him, his back straight, shoulders tight, and the barest hint of a limp in his step. Riley had wanted to stay at Jake’s place for the night so Kingston could rest, but when the guy refused to relax and began to pace anxiously, he asked Jake to drive them home instead.
Now they had to face this, or neither of them was getting any sleep.
Riley watched Kingston ease himself onto the couch cushion, instinctually pausing to see if he needed help before he did as he was told and went to find beer. He was aware of how much Kingston hated hisoverprotectiveness, but it was hard for Riley to see the person he’d just had sex with in obvious discomfort and not do anything about it.
Roughing Sloan up in hockey had a different tone, one that was fun and exciting because adrenaline made it seem that way. But the wincing and dark bruises had an opposite effect on him, and he didn’t like the guilt he felt knowing that he was the one who had put Kingston in the state he was in now.
Riley wished, more than anything, that Kingston would give in and let him bekind. He wasn’t asking for much, but the guilt would be a lot easier to bear if he were allowed to kiss Kingston, or maybe hold his hand or something.
Anything.