The Thomas Flair - E.J. Russell Page 0,36

is which. Until they put ’em in the Code of Points, maybe we should keep practicing so we don’t forget.”

Sol trailed his fingers across the washboard of Tony’s abs and rested his hands on Tony’s hips. “I’m pretty sure we can’t have an element named after us unless we complete it successfully in international competition.”

Tony’s grin widened. “I’m game. We can introduce both moves in Tokyo.”

“Really?” Sol’s own lips twitched with the desire to smile. “I thought we agreed to keep everything on the down-low until after the Games.”

“Are you telling me there’s no place in the entire Olympic Village where we can find some time to be together? I thought the Village was famous for nonstop boinking. There’s even a video parody about it.”

Sol fixed Tony with a severe scowl—or at least as severe as he could manage when he was trying not to laugh. “No boinking in the Village for you.”

“Me?” Tony pressed a hand to his chest, his wide-eyed innocent expression fooling precisely nobody in this room. “You were the one who was getting chased by the entire Brazilian team in Rio.”

Sol rolled his eyes. “One guy. One. And I think Luiz was more interested in you.”

“Oh, no. He hit on you. I watched.” Tony hooked his fingers in Sol’s waistband. “Really pissed me off. That’s why I won the silver on high bar. I just wanted to beat him.”

This time, Sol couldn’t contain his laugh. “You won an Olympic medal because of jealousy?”

Tony shrugged. “Hey, everyone’s motivation is different.”

“But, Tony…” Sol’s heart fluttered in his throat. “Did you really want me then?”

“Baby, I’ve wanted you since I figured out my dick wasn’t just for my own amusement.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Tony’s gaze slid away. “I was going to. After the team won a medal. Or at least after we made a decent showing. But when I found you were supposed to be the one—”

“No.” Sol laid his finger over Tony’s lips. “We’ve been over this. You deserved your spot. You deserved your medals. I refuse to allow you to denigrate your accomplishment.”

Tony’s eyes twinkled, and he tickled Sol’s finger with the tip of his tongue. “Denigrate. That’s a ten-dollar word. You must be one o’ them college grad-yu-eights.”

“Shut up.”

“I know one way to stop my mouth.” Tony leaned forward until his lips were a breath away from Sol’s. “Want me to show you?”

“Yes,” Sol breathed. He closed his eyes. And then… And then…

The suite door banged open. “Yo! Anybody here?” Danny shouted.

Sol backed away, banging his hip on the dresser as Danny’s footsteps thumped toward Tony’s room. Danny stopped in the doorway and braced his hands on the door frame, beaming at them both. “Hey, guys. Miss me?” Then he launched himself across the room to land on Tony’s bed. He propped his head on his hand. “When’s dinner?”

At the restaurant that night for the welcome-back dinner, all the guys were in a great mood. Tony would be in a lot better mood if Danny hadn’t barged in on him and Sol, but he still felt as if he were floating about a foot above his chair. This is it. The team. The “we” until after Tokyo. The official training camp didn’t start for two days which meant tomorrow in the gym would be all about Tony getting his ass chewed by Andrei about the mistakes he’d made at the trials. But that was tomorrow. Tonight, it was just the team: no coaches, no parents, no significant others. Just us. Just the “we.”

Tony sipped his iced tea—no more beer until after the Games, damn it—and scanned the group. Sol was sitting next to him—and Sol’s knee pressing against his own under the table went a long way toward improving Tony’s mood. But Tony noticed Sol was picking at his food.

Under cover of Danny telling some kind of raucous joke about the Penn State team, Tony leaned over and murmured, “You okay?”

Sol shot a glance at him. “What? I’m fine.”

“You’re not eating.”

Sol’s glance turned to a glower. “Don’t tell me you’re going to channel my mom for the next month.”

“Not your mom.” Tony grinned. “Just someone who’s very, very invested in making sure you’re at peak performance in all your events, regardless of venue or… apparatus.”

“Shut up.” But Sol’s smiled quivered to life, and he took a bite of his grilled chicken.

Tony’s grin faltered as he studied the guy on his other side. Jason had been on the national team, and he’d been named as one of