The Thomas Flair - E.J. Russell Page 0,35

But for their first time after a week apart—and why did a week feel so much longer than nearly four years?—Sol wanted to make an effort.

So he grabbed his toiletries, a towel, and some clean clothes and zipped into the bathroom for the quickest—but most thorough—shower he could manage when his head was urging him to find Tony right freaking now. He snorted as he pulled on his underwear, hampered by his other head—the one between his legs. “You know what you want, don’t you, buddy?” He slapped himself on the forehead. I did not just talk to my dick.

He struggled into his T-shirt, swearing when the fabric clung to his still-damp skin, and then yanked on his shorts. Forget sneakers—he didn’t want to take the time to tie them. So he slid his feet into flip-flops and hurried out of the suite.

His steps slowed as he approached Tony’s door. I should have called first. Why didn’t I call? They’d texted a few times while Tony was at his dad’s, but Tony hadn’t seemed to want to talk much. Maybe he changed his mind. He’d appeared on Quinn’s show again, laughing with her about the shirtless practice video going viral. He hadn’t staged another XBL stunt, thank goodness. Shame washed through Sol’s belly, because he’d actually checked the channel to make sure.

I need to trust him. Trust that he’s serious enough about the team to not take chances. Trust that he’s serious enough about me not to put himself at risk.

He took a deep breath and then knocked. And waited. Waited some more. Maybe he’s not here yet. But Sol had gotten the impression that Tony couldn’t wait to escape his dad’s house and wasn’t about to linger a minute longer than he had to. He tried the knob. It wasn’t locked, so he cracked the door open.

“Hello? Anybody home?”

Nobody answered, but Sol could see a shadow moving in the light filtering in from Tony’s window. He’s probably got his earbuds in again. Sol slipped inside, closing the door softly behind him.

Flip-flops thwapping, he hurried across the living room. His heart was thumping in an odd syncopated rhythm and his breath couldn’t quite match the tempo. Good thing I’m a gymnast and not a musician. He stood in the open doorway to Tony’s room, and there was Tony himself.

His back was to Sol as he dragged clothes out of his duffel and dumped them on his bed. He bobbed his head in time to a song, but Sol couldn’t tell what it was from Tony’s tuneless humming. A smile curved Sol’s lips. Tony couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket, extreme or otherwise.

Tony was shirtless, his ink on glorious display. Sol licked his lips, hands twitching with the urge to run his fingers along that smooth, brown skin. His gaze traveled down Tony’s spine, over his ass, hugged so nicely by his shorts, and—

“What the hell, Tony?”

Tony jerked and spun around, yanking his earbuds out. “Jesus, Sol. What have I told you about sneaking up on me?”

Sol couldn’t make any words come out of his mouth. Instead he pointed at Tony’s knee. At the brace on Tony’s knee.

Tony glanced down. “Oh, that old thing?”

“Tony.” Sol finally forced some air past his throat. “Did you do it? Another XBL stunt? After you—”

“Hey hey hey.” Tony held up his hands, palms out. “I haven’t done anything stupid.” He wrinkled his nose. “Unless you call visiting my dad stupid, which would be fair. But I’ve been to see the team physio. He suggested I wear the heavier brace outside the gym for at least a week while we ramp up the training. Keep wearing the lighter sleeve during practice. I’ve been good. I promise.” He eased toward Sol, his cheeky grin lighting his face. “Don’t I deserve a reward?”

“God, Tony.” Sol closed the distance between them and grabbed Tony around the waist. “Don’t scare me like that.”

Tony nuzzled Sol’s neck. “Mmm. You’re not giving me much incentive to behave. If you hug me like this every time I scare you, then—”

“Not because you didn’t behave.” Sol jerked away from the temptation of Tony’s mouth. “Because you did. And I—” Sol lowered his gaze, focusing on the center of Tony’s chest. “I didn’t trust you to keep yourself safe. I’m sorry.”

Tony kissed Sol’s eyebrow, his cheek, his lips. “You’re forgiven.” He grinned. “Wanna try the Thomas-Ashvili again? Or maybe the Ashvili-Thomas?” He rubbed his knuckle along Sol’s jaw. “I’m not sure I remember which