Page 49 of Home Ice

My gaze drops from his face to his chest, the wide shoulders, where his strong hand is resting on the table, prominent vein running along the back of it.

Barrett shifts closer as he stretches, and I don’t know if he realizes he’s done it or not, but I’m hyperaware of every inch from my body to his. “What about you? Have you dated?”

“Nope. When I first got to St. Louis, I was all about the fun. Now, I wouldn’t mind it, but fitting someone into my schedule, especially living with Lachie, feels like more trouble than it’s worth.”

“You’ll just have to keep having threesomes, then.”

“Guess I will.”

His brown eyes shine under the dim lighting. “I never would have guessed, out of all our friends, that you’d be the one having threesomes.”

“I never guessed you’d be the one fucking men. Even we had our secrets.”

“Well, I’m not the only one fucking men.”

The ache deep in my gut has to be the only reason I say what comes out next. “No. And I fuck them really good too.”

Barrett swallows. “Favorite position?”

“However gets me off.”

“That’s such a Hawke answer.” He reaches over and pokes my stomach, stirring that ache in my gut. “I like it from behind.”

“Weird. I would have picked you for a boring missionary guy.”

His straight eyebrows lift a little. “If you think missionary is boring, you’ve never experienced it properly.”

“Really?” My tone is heavy with disbelief. “What’s so good about it?”

“Firstly, the angle. Secondly, having a heavy body weighing you down. The grunts in your ear. Watching a man’s face as he comes.” Barrett’s voice has dropped, and I inch closer to catch every word. “Being wrapped around each other, sweaty and overheated.”

I’ve had a lot of experience being wrapped around the people I sleep with, but it’s never felt the way he’s talking. It’s fun and hot. Fueled by lust. A quick fuck before we all go back to our lives.

My dick thickens as his words play on repeat in my mind.

Like it’s been ten minutes instead of ten years, the urge to reach over and touch him is as familiar as breathing. How many times did we shoot the shit at the river, shirtless and ridiculous, while I fought every urge in my body against looking too long? How many times did we play video games, and I’d have to remind myself to keep my eyes on the screen? And all those times in the locker room when I’d only allow myself to glance over for the very fast count of three.

I try it now.

Counting to three.

But I get there, and the moment passes, and I keep on looking.

“You’re right. I’ve never experienced that before.” My voice is deeper than usual, and I’m sure he picks up on it.

“That said—” His lips twitch. “—there’s nothing like being railed from behind.”

“You bottom?” I shouldn’t ask, but it’s out before I can stop myself.

Barrett takes a very long sip of his beer, watching me over the rim. “What?” he asks, smacking his wet lips. “You don’t?”

“No, I do, but I⁠—”

“Let’s just say that I have my preferences, but I’m, uh …” His gaze runs over me, and I swear the heat in the bar is cranked right up because I’m sweating. “Flexible.”

I scowl. “As flexible as Trevor?”

“That almost sounded jealous, Hawke. Did you have a thing for him?”