Then they brought the Cup out, and—
“We’re going to go down to the ice.” Linda touched Grady’s elbow. “Do you want to come?”
He did. He wanted to congratulate Max in person, share his joy. But he couldn’t do it without making the stupid narrative about himself, somehow, so he shook his head. “I’ll catch up with him after. You go ahead.”
“I’ll give him your love,” Linda promised, because she was cheeky like that—her son had to get it from somewhere—and then she and Big Max made their way down to the VIP staging area.
When they’d gone, Jess leaned into Grady. “You’re really okay?”
“I’m great.” And he meant it. Max deserved this, and Grady could never be selfish enough to ruin it for him with anything less than his full enthusiasm.
Of course, he reserved the right to backtrack on that if Max threepeated or something, but for now….
“You should go down to the room to wait for him,” Jess suggested. “Because otherwise you’re going to try to jump him in front of his teammates and they don’t deserve that.”
Yeah, she was totally right. “Good idea.”
Year-Ago Grady would have said,No, not a good idea. Year-Ago Grady was a miserable asshole, though, so Today Grady wasn’t listening to anything he had to say.
Today Grady wanted to do something even crazier than cheer on his boyfriend-slash-rival to winning the Stanley Cup.
The security lady fist-bumped him as he went by. He flashed his badge and she rolled her eyes at him because the entire staff knew who he was. They would’ve known him even if he was only Max’s boyfriend and not an NHL player himself. Grady had spent a lot of time down here in the past few weeks.
In the VIP area, staff were already setting up cameras, beer, and champagne, as well as a giant root beer float because one of Max’s teammates was in recovery. Grady tried to stay out of the way.Max’swin didn’t sting at all, but he wasn’t ready to celebrate the rest of the team just yet.
Maybe Baller; Baller was okay.
It was close to half an hour before the team made their way off the ice. Grady slouched next to the wall behind a vertical bulkhead so he wouldn’t be in any of the videos. When he caught a glimpse of the 96 on a sleeve, he darted his hand out.
Max tumbled into him in surprise, gloveless and helmetless, his grin showing off the missing tooth he’d lost in the last round. “Well, hey, stranger. Is that a banana in your pocket—”
“Shut up,” Grady said fondly, and kissed him.
Max reeked of hard-won victory, but Grady had spent his whole life with that smell. He curled his hands into the damp fabric of Max’s jersey and held tight as Max leaned into him.
“Mmmf,” Max said a moment later, when Grady ran his thumb over the sensitive skin on his hip.
“It’s not a banana,” Grady mumbled against his lips.
Max shook with laughter. Grady shoved a hand under his breezers.
“Hey,” he said after another handful of kisses, “does this place have a hookup basement, or—”
Max blinked. His pupils were dilated and his cheeks flushed. He glanced at the open door to the locker room; the celebration had already spilled out into the hallway. “Think they’ll miss me if I’m a few minutes late?”
“Absolutely not,” Grady lied, and let Max pull him into a room full of excess A/V equipment.
It seemed like it should’ve been locked, but Grady wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Instead he concentrated on getting Max’s gear shoved down far enough to touch his dick.
“Uhhh,” Max said. He clawed at Grady’s shoulders when Grady stroked him. “Oh my God.”
True to Grady’s word, he had Max writhing and leaking in minutes. But this had a predictable effect on Grady too, and Max took advantage and pushed his palm over Grady’s cock. “If you ever tell anyone how hot I got from you winning the Cup—”
Max laughed breathlessly as Grady bit at his throat, and the sound went right to Grady’s dick. “Getting a bit of déjà vu right now, babe.”
“Want me to tell you I hate you?”
Max’s head thumped against the wall. “Maybe we could just skip—” His breath hitched. “—ah—to the good part?”
