Iced Out (Leighton U #1)(25)

Better to be honest, I guess.

“I, uh…” I clear my throat, not sure how to put this into words. “I thought so too. But now, I guess I’m not so sure.”

I’m surprised to find his eyes actually soften around the edges, if even for a split second. Almost like he gets it, not knowing where I stand with my attraction toward men.

Some people might know from the start where they fall in terms of sexuality. The label comes as easy as breathing, and there’s no point in second-guessing it. Not everyone has that luck, though, and the understanding in his eyes screams he’s been here before.

And despite all the animosity still flowing between us, I feel a weird sort of kinship with him forming because of it. Which only has me hoping he might not think this is as crazy as it sounds.

That he might say yes.

“Fucking hell, man.” He blows out a harsh breath. “I’m gonna regret ever saying this, but I enjoyed you, ah, servicing me at the frat house. It was great—”

I snort. “Servicing? Is this the 1950s, or are you just too afraid to say I sucked you off?”

Ignoring my jab, he continues like I never even spoke.

“—but there’s more to this whole proposition of yours than you’ve taken into account. It’s a recipe for disaster, for one, and breaks just about every rule I put in place for myself.”

My skin tingles at the thought of getting Oakley to let loose. It might be even more fun than digging under his skin.

“Rules are made to be broken,” I remind him, earning a glare in return. One that says he’s still uncertain of my asinine idea.

“You would see it that way, but I don’t.” Oakley crosses his arms before leaning back against the wall behind him again. “I don’t fuck around with teammates, de Haas. Or baby bi’s. Too messy for my tastes. And seeing as our relationship is already a shit storm…”

He lets the thought hang in the air between us, adding to the stifling awkwardness already clouding the hall.

As much as I hate admitting it, I get it. The two of us together is probably equivalent to throwing a ticking time bomb down on center ice and expecting it not to blow the whole arena to smithereens.

I’m still brimming with irritation even as I stare at him, silently begging him to say yes.

Doesn’t stop me from wanting him to say it though.

“Your points are valid, and while I respect them, this is bigger than just you and me.”

One dark brow lifts, the corner of his mouth quirking into a smile. “Why am I not surprised you aren’t taking no for an answer?”

Because my brain refuses to register the word. It’s not in my damn programming. Which is something I’m sure Oakley’s had to have noticed in the years we’ve known each other.

Just like I know him well enough to realize I’m never gonna live this shit down. He might not be mad or popping off at me for suggesting this, but I know he’ll use this as ammo in what’s sure to be another six months of torment, bickering, and fights between the two of us.

Remember the time you tried to hit on me and I said no?

I can hear it now.

But if there’s one thing I can count on, it’s that he wouldn’t do it publicly. He’d never out someone. He’s a dickish asshole, but he’s not fucking heartless.

I scratch my neck before mirroring his pose against the wall opposite him. “You and I both know this could go sideways and blow up in our faces. I guess I just figured what’s the harm in trying? If we hook up and keep winning, it’s a literal win-win situation. Getting off and getting the W.”

“And losing every ounce of self-respect I have by sleeping with you.”

So that’s what this is about? That’s why he’s so leery of this?

My blood flares at his dig, and I have half a mind to call him on his bullshit about not fucking around with teammates or baby bi’s, when really, I’m the issue. I’d bet if I was any other guy on the team offering this up, he’d jump at the chance.

I grit my teeth and rein in the temper fighting to break free. “You didn’t seem to care too much when I was on my knees for you the other night.”

He rubs his thumb over his bottom lip and smirks. “Call it a lapse in judgment.”

Goddamnit.

I can’t help the glare I aim his way. “Still the best blowjob you’ve ever had if I had to bet my last dollar on it. I’d double down and say it was the hardest you’ve ever come too.”

His grin only widens. “The answer’s still no.”

Fucking hell.

Pushing off the wall, I close the distance between us until I’m standing right in front of him. My hands land on either side of his shoulders, flattening against the wall as I look him dead in the eye, and press in close enough so our thighs brush against each other.

That’s all it takes—that tiny bit of contact—to get the first waver in his resolve.

A sharp inhale causes his pecs to brush against mine, and even through the thin fabric of our shirts, the heat from his skin still sets my entire body on fire.

And in his eyes, I see it. Exactly what I’m feeling.

Want. Need. Desire.

Lust.

It’s all plain as day in those deep brown irises.

My voice comes out grated when I ask, “You sure about that?”