Neutral Zone Trap - Bianca Sommerland Page 0,7

everything he’d ever dreamed of.

Could someone get sexier the longer you looked at them? Because when he’d first seen Ryan, he’d thought he was kinda hot. Then he spoke and he was irresistible. Then he’d gotten all take charge and there was no word for how much Braxton craved whatever he could have from the man.

One night. One hour. Hell, one damn minute and there was something inside him that had been so empty, now filled up to overflowing. Maybe that was all this was. Finally, someone letting him be himself. Accepting him as though who he was wasn’t the end of the world. It was natural…even desirable.

There were guys on the team who’d probably have given Braxton that feeling, but part of him still needed to keep this side of himself separate. He saw what happened when identity overruled talent. How people acted different.

Someone like Shawn Pischlar, or Zachary Pearce, could get through it. They were established. Had fans and solid contracts and a future in the league. Braxton was still a nobody. Lucky to even be in the lineup every night. Easy to leave out if he messed up.

He loved his career. Loved playing hockey. And as hard as it was to hide part of himself, he’d do it. At least until he proved he was worth keeping.

They slowed in front of a small house near the edge of Dartmouth, on a long road near Bell Lake, an area he hadn’t been around much, but he recognized some of the landmarks from passing through on the way to visit other players for dinners and get-togethers. When Ryan pulled into the driveway, Braxton sat up and undid his seatbelt. Took a deep breath. And did his best to lay out the next play as though he was on the ice and had little time to make an impact.

If all he had with Ryan was tonight, he hoped he wouldn’t be easy to forget.

Because I already know Ryan won’t be.

After parking the car, Ryan got out and headed straight for the front door, tension in his every step as he surveyed the area. He stopped in front of the door, waited for Braxton to join him, then unlocked the door. Stepped aside to let Braxton pass, followed, then locked the door and a deadbolt behind him.

His lips slanted at Braxton’s questioning look. “I arrested the leader of a biker gang recently and came home to a few…interesting packages. We found the culprit, so no need to worry, but I tend to be vigilant. Just in case.”

“That’s smart.”

“I like to think so.” Ryan caught Braxton’s wrist and pulled him close, laughing against Braxton’s lips when he gasped. “Unless you ask me not to, I’m going to take these clothes off you. You teased me showing me that shirt. Such a bad boy.”

Braxton shivered, Ryan calling him a ‘bad boy’ sending a sweet chill up his spine. He couldn’t find his voice, but after holding his gaze for a brief moment, Ryan seemed to get the answer he wanted. He shoved Braxton’s jacket off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor even as he tugged up the mesh shirt that covered next to nothing.

“Mmm.” Braxton tipped his head back against the door as Ryan’s lips trailed the length of his throat. He pressed his eyes shut as Ryan undid his skin-tight jeans, his blood pulsing into his cock as a firm, rough hand wrapped around it. “Oh fuck, that. Keep doing that.”

“Take your pants off. Let me look at you.” Ryan gave him a few lazy strokes, then stepped back, waiting.

Kicking off his shoes, Braxton shoved at his jeans until they were low enough to kick off as well. He ditched his socks, goosebumps rising all over his skin as Ryan’s hot gaze took in every inch of him.

“I’d take you for a dancer, but these muscles are too thick. Especially your legs.” Ryan moved in, brushing his hand up Braxton’s thigh, his other hand curving under his jaw. “You’re fucking gorgeous, you know that?”

Fighting to control his breathing, Braxton shrugged. “People like looking at me, but I have these muscles because I need them on the ice.”

“On the…” Ryan’s brow furrowed. “Jesus, please tell me you’re not a hockey player.”

Dick out, completely naked, that was the last thing Braxton wanted to hear. That hesitation. As though the wrong answer might end things.

“I am, but the way I see it, that doesn’t matter. I don’t see a badge when I look