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The words took Bennett by surprise. “What would I be gloating about?”
“This. Again.”
Ah. He would smile if he had the energy for it. “Don’t worry. I’m too fucked out to gloat.”
“Thank fuck.”
Neither one of them made any effort to get up. As Nico continued to stroke Bennett’s spine, Bennett’s fingers began moving over Nico’s chest, exploring carefully, affectionately. A test to see if Nico would tolerate a tender touch in return. So when Nico didn’t pull away, Bennett relaxed and pressed closer. “I’m curious,” he said into Nico’s skin. “How does a mafia boss discover he likes to fuck men?”
“Zizou.”
Bennett searched his brain to make sense of the word. “Is that a place? Or a website—”
Nico snorted. “Dai, that is a man. Zinedine Zidane. Possibly the greatest footballer to ever play. Even though he was French and nearing the end of his playing career, I was obsessed with him as a boy. I fantasized about women, too, but also Zizou.” His shoulder shifted in a small shrug. “I have a thing for athletes.”
“Oh.”
Nico’s hand stopped moving on Bennett’s back. “This bothers you?”
“No, why would it? Everyone has a type. You’re my type. Obviously.” The words sounded hollow.
“Italian mafia bosses are your type? Or only the bossy part?”
“Fuck you. I’m bossy, too. On the ice.”
“I know. It is fucking hot. But even hotter that you let me boss you around in bed.”
No way was Bennett having this conversation. He didn’t know why he let Nico take charge, only that he liked it. And, so what? Bennett didn’t need to feel badly about it. “When did you act on it? On being attracted to men, I mean.”
“Sixteen, I think. Back when my father was still alive, I wasn’t watched as carefully as I am now. A lot of my time was spent traveling and hanging out in nightclubs. I got hit on in São Paulo by a very hot Brazilian man and decided why not?”
“Very hot, huh?”
“This was many years ago, Verreault.” Nico squeezed Bennett’s ass, hard. “There is no need to be jealous.”
Jealous? Was Bennett . . . ? No, that was insane. He didn’t care about anyone Nico had sex with, past or present.
“Relax,” Nico whispered, reading Bennett’s thoughts perfectly. “I was teasing you.”
“I know,” Bennett said quickly—too quickly. “Was it good?”
“It was good. Not like this, but satisfying in a way.”
The compliment went right to Bennett’s head. “Admit it, I’m the best sex you’ve ever had.” They both knew Nico was the best sex of Bennett’s life. The couch fucks didn’t come anywhere close.
“Would you like me to rate you?”
“You don’t need to,” Bennett said loftily, fighting a yawn. “Because I know I’m the best.”
Nico made the half-amused, half-annoyed sound in his chest, the one that went straight to Bennett’s heart like an arrow every time he heard it. “When was your first?” Nico asked.
“I was billeting with a family—”
“What does this mean, billeting?”
“Oh, it’s when young hockey kids go live with a family in another part of Canada. I went away when I was sixteen to play in the Q—that’s a major junior league there—and my billet family had a son my age. We shared a bathroom and he flirted all the time. It became very obvious that he was interested, and I already suspected I liked boys. Then one day he asked if he could join me in the shower and it went from there.”
“Hmm. I do not think I like this boy.”
