Iced Out (Leighton U #1)(81)

Quinn continues to rub my length through the denim, and I let out a low groan before turning into him. One hand wraps around the back of his neck, and I spin him before planting the other firmly against the doorframe. I back him into the wood slowly, my body pressed the entire length of his, and he drops his duffle to the porch step.

“You’re trying to kill me,” I murmur, more a statement than a question. Because there’s no way I can stand much more of the tormenting he’s unleashing.

“Believe me,” he whispers back, “that’s not the intended goal.”

He grabs my chin with his hand, pulling me in for a searing kiss, his tongue flicking against mine as it parts my lips. My heart does this weird thing in my chest as he tilts my jaw, fingers skittering along the skin there. A sort of pulsing squeeze, like a fist is wrapped around it as it struggles to find a steady beat.

The sensation has happened more than once now, the first few times after break. But the damn slab of muscle has been doing it a lot more lately, especially since introducing him to my parents, which was almost two weeks ago now.

I’m not sure how I feel about it, or why the fuck it’s happening in the first place. Though I’m sure it has something to do with how easily he’s wormed his way into my everyday existence.

Not just in the obvious ways, like with hockey.

I mean the way he’s the first person I look for a text from in the morning, or how much my anticipation grows as I set foot into the arena, knowing I’m about to see him for the next hour or two.

He’s become the high I’m constantly looking to chase, and with that, he’s integrated himself into my life almost seamlessly.

But as flawless as he might fit into my life, we still haven’t done one thing.

Not a goddamn soul on this planet—besides Hayes—knows about us hooking up. But as I stand here at my front door aching for him in every way possible, I also don’t think there’s any reason to keep it silent anymore. I’m sick of hiding this and sneaking around. It’s gotten stale, and more importantly, feels pointless since we’ve foregone every other rule set out since the beginning. Keeping it on the DL is the only rule that’s actually stuck this entire time.

And I think it’s time for it to go too…though maybe it can wait until morning when the guys aren’t all dead asleep. The last thing they’ll want to wake up to is me mauling the guy who’s supposed to be my enemy as we fumble our way to my bedroom.

“You gonna invite me in?” He laughs softly against my neck. “Or are you planning to let me freeze out here all night after mauling me on the doorstep?”

“Now there’s a thought,” I utter before grabbing his bag from where he dropped it. “But no, I have other plans for you that don’t involve inducing hypothermia.”

A sinful expression appears on his face, teeth scraping over his bottom lip as he takes his bag from me. “Then lead the way.”

I do just that, taking his hand and dragging him through the front door until we’re both enveloped in darkness. The door clicks shut silently behind us, and I release my hold on him to lock up for the night. All’s going well, and just as I think we’re in the clear from waking anyone, Quinn knocks a set of keys off the entry table with his duffle.

“Shh!” I whisper-shout. “It’s like you want us to get caught.”

A disembodied sorry is whispered through the darkness, and I follow the sound until the faint form of his silhouette appears before me.

Quickly flipping on my phone’s flashlight, I grab Quinn’s hand again and haul him toward the stairs. “Follow me. And try not to knock anything else over.”

“I don’t know why you didn’t just put the flashlight on in the first place.”

“Because I know this house like the back of my hand, and I don’t need it,” I tell him as we reach my door. Quickly, I push it open to avoid the loud creak it sometimes makes, and shove him through into the safety of my room.

I cross the space in darkness to the bedside table, my hand slipping beneath the lamp shade there and flicking the bulb to life. It casts a soft glow over my bedroom, illuminating Quinn as he drops his bag to the floor beside my desk.

A smile inches its way on my face as he digs through the duffle, not stopping until his puck is in hand. He meets my smile with one of his own when he catches me watching him, his more shy in nature.

It’s probably the most innocent I’ve ever seen him.

He takes a moment to slip the puck beneath a pillow, and when he’s done, I grab his waist and drag him to me.

“One superstition down,” I murmur, my lips trailing down the column of his throat.

“Two more to go.”

Quinn’s dimpled smile flashes at me in the dim light before sealing my mouth to his in a toe-curling kiss. The kind that does all sorts of stupid things to my heart. Like ache and yearn for things it has no business wanting.

Mouth glued to mine, he backs me toward the bed, only breaking the kiss to slip my shirt over my head. He takes his time stripping every article of clothing from my body and tracing the newly exposed skin with the pads of his fingers.

The feather-light touch has my every nerve-ending on fire, burning for him.

When the backs of my knees hit the edge of the bed, he pushes me down. I fall onto the mattress alone with him still standing over me, still completely clothed.