by Tricia Owens
The fear poured back into Neil’s eyes. He looked around the room like a cornered beast. “I have to go.”
“Why? Everyone’s already seen you. Besides, no one here watches hockey, I already tested.”
Neil shot him a panicked look. “What does that mean?”
“I walked through. Made eye contact with just about everybody who’d return it. No one recognized me. Not a one.”
Neil crossed his arms. “Maybe they’d recognize me.”
Adrian laughed. “Well, maybe they would. You are more popular than I am in certain circles.”
Neil smirked, looking slightly satisfied. Adrian couldn’t stop staring at him and thinking he’s gay, he’s gay, he’s gay.
“In all seriousness,” he said aloud, “I think we’re okay here. It’s pretty dead anyway. I was about to leave.”
Blue eyes darted to him, nervous, but in a different way. “You came here for...”
Lust pulsed hot and sharp in Adrian’s groin. “What do you think?”
Neil’s laugh was strained. “I think I’m going to have a heart attack, that’s what I think.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Jesus. I can’t believe this happened. I’ve been so careful...”
“I’m sure you have, but you haven’t been on a team with another gay player before. You’ve never risked running into one.”
Neil eyed him at that, speculation in the look. “You’re pretty calm about being outed. This will destroy you as much as it will me.”
“I don’t know if it’ll destroy me. Might make things a little awkward in the showers at first, but the guys are good. They’d get over it.”
“But you’d be known as the gay hockey player. Not Adrian Magnusson, leading scorer, but Adrian Magnusson, the gay hockey player. Everything would change in how the public sees you. Everything.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
“It’s happened to players in other sports,” Neil insisted.
“But it hasn’t happened to me,” Adrian pointed out calmly.
Neil shook his head. “You’re delusional. You have no idea what you’re setting yourself up for. Your career will be over.” He was sliding into freak out mode again, so Adrian decided to distract him.
“So what did you come looking for?” he asked, watching him closely.
Neil blanched. “I just wanted a drink.”
“Bought by whom?”
“What?”
Now that the shock of discovery had passed, Adrian began to dwell on the possibilities. His secret crush, his walking wet dream, was sitting beside him in a gay bar. Holy shit, this can’t be real. And yet it was. He was practically overwhelmed by what could happen next.
Assuming Neil found him attractive.
He leaned forward. Neil didn’t back away, though his jaw clenched as though he were fighting to hold his ground.
“Who did you come here for?” Adrian asked. “What kind of guy?”
“I just came for a drink. To—to look around.”
“What’s your type, Neil?”
“I’ve done too much already.”
Neil started to slide across the vinyl in the other direction, but Adrian grabbed his arm again. This time he didn’t let go.
“Think about it,” he urged. “Think about how perfect this could be. We could be each other’s secret.”
Neil shook his head at the tabletop. “You’re crazy.”
“I’m right. We’re risking a lot by being here. What are we supposed to do for the rest of the season, for the rest of our careers? Be celibate? Hire escorts? One of them could sell us out. Think about it,” Adrian repeated, struggling to contain his eagerness. “We’ll be on the road together. In the same hotel. This could work. No strings. Total secrecy. It’s perfect.”
Neil quit trying to pull away and laughed, the sound sharp. “You’re so full of yourself. What makes you think I would even be interested?”
But he’d stepped into the trap Adrian had laid for him.
“Look me in the eyes,” Adrian said in a low voice, “and tell me I wouldn’t be able to get you off.”
Adrian had been with a lot of men. He recognized the tension running through Neil and why it existed. He tightened his grip. “Neil—"
“You wouldn’t be able to get me off.”
Adrian smiled. “Challenge accepted.”
Neil shook his head. “That cheesy line may work on your fanboys but I’m on your level.”
“Yeah, you are, which is what makes this so hot.” Adrian took a chance. “We’re equal, which is why getting you under me will feel a million times hotter.”
The arm within his grip trembled.
“I’m right, aren’t I?” Adrian insisted as the blood rushed to his groin. “You came here looking to be topped.”
Neil finally managed to yank his arm free. He straightened his jacket, eyes on the table. “It’s none of your business.”
“I saw you looking at me in Vegas.”
This time the shudder was visible. So was Neil briefly closing his eyes. Adrian pressed his advantage, feeling more alive than he had since the Finals.
“You saw what I’m packing,” he said, hearing how his voice had thickened. “How badly do you want it, Neil?”
A blotchy blush rose to Neil’s cheeks. Adrian’s own face felt hot. He was burning up from the inside and needed to get naked, needed to pull another hot, muscular body against his. He needed Neil’s.
“Did you come here for a handjob? A blowjob?”
“Did you come here to talk dirty to someone?” Neil shot back
“If he likes it, sure.” Adrian looked around. One guy was staring at them, but probably only out of boredom. Nothing else was happening in the place. “We should get out of here and talk about this in private.”
“Talk,” Neil scoffed. “Sure.”
“Would you prefer that I say what I mean?”
Neil swallowed and pulled the collar of his jacket up higher. “No. Not—not here.”
Adrian nearly creamed his pants. “Let’s go.”
He worried he’d have to physically drag Neil with him, but after Adrian slid out of the booth, Neil did, too. He avoided Adrian’s eyes as he led the way out of the bar and into the chilly night air.
“Where—” he began.
“There’s a place up here that I use.” Adrian shrugged when Neil finally looked at him, eyebrows raised. “I come here nearly every time we’re on an overnight.”
Neil averted his gaze as they walked. “It’s only my second time here. I don’t normally—” He sighed and tilted his head back to gaze up at the sky. “I’m normally very careful. But tonight I needed to get away...”
Away from his new team, obviously. Adrian was disappointed to hear that, but this wasn’t the best time to talk about the trade and why it had happened.
He pointed up the street. “It’s there. It’s decent. No bed bugs, I promise.”
Neil snorted. “Like you check every time.”
“Maybe not, but I wouldn’t take you somewhere dirty.”
A quick look shot his way, but Neil said nothing as they walked a block up and entered the lobby of the budget hotel. As Neil waited by the elevators and Adrian kept one eye on him to make sure he didn’t chicken out, Adrian paid for a room. The night clerk was one he’d seen before, but the woman didn’t appear to recognize him as a repeat customer, much less as a famous hockey player. In no time he had the key card, holding it up triumphantly as he joined Neil at the elevators.
“Congratulations,” Neil said dryly.
Adrian grinned and pulled him into the first car that arrived. “I know how to take care of business. I’m a big boy.”
“No kidding,” Neil said beneath his breath, as though talking to himself.
Adrian caught him stealing a glance at his thighs which stretched his custom jeans. So Neil liked his size. Good. There was more where that came from.
They didn’t talk as they arrived on their floor and Adrian located their room. He
unlocked it and entered first so he could make a theatrical show of searching for bed bugs. Neil crossed his arms and leaned a shoulder against one wall, shaking his head as he watched.
“You’re a real clown,” he muttered.
Adrian straightened up from his inspection of the mattress. “Except when I’m not,” he said, letting his voice fall to its deepest range. It cued a change in the mood and had Neil visibly tensing, though he didn’t move. He looked like he was trying to hold up the wall as Adrian took off his baseball cap and tossed it while approaching him.
Adrian placed a hand on the wall beside his head. “Neil Shannon,” he mused softly as he looked over his rival. “Gay as a tangerine. Who would’ve guessed.”
“You said it was obvious in hindsight,” Neil reminded him, distress flickering through his eyes again.
“Only because I know now. Otherwise, never in a million years would I have guessed it. You’re safe.”
Blue eyes darted to the bed and away. “You call this safe?”
“I call this convenient.” I call this hitting the lottery, but you don’t need to know that. “Friends with benefits. No strings. No trouble.”
“We’ll have the ultimate blackmail material on each other,” Neil said, maybe as a warning, but the way his pupils expanded suggested otherwise.
“You’re going to have some pretty bad material on me, I guarantee.”
“Yeah?” Neil uncrossed his arms, hesitated, then took hold of the front of Adrian’s T-shirt with both hands. They trembled despite the cocky look in his eyes. “I’m not easy to impress.”
Adrian dropped a hand to Neil’s hip. “Then you’re not leaving this room until I make an impression.” He heard Neil’s breath coming hard and fast while Adrian rubbed his thumb gently over his hip bone. “You going to tell me what you like? Or am I going to have to guess?”
“Read the play,” Neil challenged. He tugged Adrian closer by his shirt. “You know how to score.”
“Yeah, I do.” Adrian tightened his grip on Neil’s hip, hearing the other man’s breath hitch. “I hope you didn’t plan on going back to the hotel tonight. I’m keeping you here.”
“I’m staying, even though I know better.” Neil let his head tip back against the wall, the body language telling Adrian everything he’d hoped to see. Blue eyes seared him from beneath lowered lids. “You’d better make this worth it.”
Adrian grinned, partly smug, partly thrilled out of his mind that this was happening. “Don’t worry, babe. It’s why I get paid the big bucks.”
.
Chapter 6
Neil was high-fiving his teammates after their win in Miami when he received the news that he was no longer a member of their team.
That night’s game had been a good one for him. Better than any performance he’d given since September, anyway, which was a step in the right direction. A lot of times players got off to slow starts and needed to break the seal. While Neil historically had never been a slow starter, he was giving himself every excuse to explain his abysmal play thus far. Now that he’d scored and assisted on two goals, he could feel his season turning around. He’d be back to his old tricks within a week, he bet.
Then the GM, Coleson, pulled him aside and gave him the news that he'd been traded.
Any progress he’d made with his team suddenly meant nothing. The Snowdevils meant nothing, and he was now nothing to them. He was a Kraken now—god, did he hate that name—and he’d be starting from scratch for the first time in his professional career.
With Adrian Magnusson as his linemate, no less.
“What a complete douche,” Joey said, wide-eyed, when Neil let him know what had happened. “I told you he was like this. He’s showing off that he’s the highest paid player in the league. This is a power move, Neiler. This is him telling everyone else that he can buy out his rivals. Fuck that guy. Break his leg in the showers.”
Neil felt similarly about what had happened, especially when he glimpsed what the media was saying about the trade—how Magnusson was building his own super team and Neil was included to remove him as a potential threat even though he hadn’t been playing like one. The social media comments were even worse.
- I’m telling you, top players like to surround themselves with players who are on a downslide. It makes them look even more dominating in comparison. This is going to make Maggy look like a beast.
- He already is one. Magnusson did this because he hates Shannon. He’s rubbing it in Shannon’s face for not only losing the Stanley Cup, but losing his status as the best in the league. It’s the ultimate taunt.
- Oh, man, that’d be sick, wouldn’t it? But it’s probably true.
- Is anyone considering the possibility that Magnusson is trying to help him? The Snowdevils’ GM bailed on Shannon long ago. This is throwing a life ring to a drowning player. Magnusson feels sorry for him.
He skipped out on talking to the press and was in a taxi to the airport before half of his now former teammates could wish him well. His phone conversation with his agent was an ugly one, which Neil knew he’d regret later since it wasn’t the man’s fault.
Once in Baltimore, he was met by a low-level young guy from the Kraken front office who drove Neil to what would soon be the team’s hotel. The rest of the Kraken were still in New York. Neil, wired, unable to sleep, wasn’t interested in greeting any of them when they arrived. He caught another cab to the arena and tried to pretend he knew what he was doing.
Practicing by himself in the Baltimore arena was a surreal experience. He’d never been on his own like this. He’d never been traded. It was difficult not to feel lonely and isolated.
“Stop being a damn pussy,” he muttered to himself before snapping a slapshot at the net. The puck pinged off the right post instead.
The process of joining a new team was stressful, like being uprooted midway through the school year, only with a thousand times more pressure. He’d need to learn who his teammates were, how they played, how they fit together and how he fit with them. He’d need to learn the coach’s systems and the everyday tasks like practice times and workout routines. He’d need to rent an apartment in Seattle and learn how to get to the arena and where to shop and which areas to avoid, while deciding what to do with his home in Colorado. It was lot, and it all needed to be accomplished as quickly as possible. He tried to relieve the stress by skating hard and shooting the puck harder. By the time he was finished he was exhausted. He was also aware that Magnusson and the rest of the team would be arriving shortly.
He took a quick shower, afraid of being caught naked and vulnerable. He was nearly finished dressing when Magnusson walked in. The tension in the muscles around Neil’s neck threatened to snap his spine.
“Where are you going?” Magnusson demanded. “We’re about to start practice.”
Neil couldn’t believe the man was that stupid. Hopefully for Magnusson’s sake, it was only an act. Regardless, Neil only managed to get out of the room after telling him off, though Magnusson still looked completely clueless. Maybe he was that dumb. A dumb, blond, handsome jock.
I can’t stand him.
Neil repeated the mantra in his head while he watched the game from the press box. It was painful to be watching and not playing, especially since his injury claim was bogus. He was supposed to be down on the ice. He was supposed to be the one controlling Magnusson on the rush so he didn’t go offsides like he kept doing. Magnusson was sloppy, as though his head wasn’t in the game, but Neil knew he could have gotten the other man back in line.
He couldn’t do it from way up here, though. He was only a bystander during what was supposed to be his debut with the Kraken. Moira was going to give him an earful when they next talked. She’d see through his so-called injury for what it was: avoidance.
Yet as useless and embarrassed as he felt for himself, Neil managed to find pleasure in watching his new team play. Overall, the players weren’t strong. The GM couldn’t afford any star players after payi
ng Magnusson a fortune and shaving off the leftover to cover Neil’s salary. But though they weren’t paid much, the Kraken players were hungry, seemingly motivated by having a superstar on their top line. How would they play once Neil joined them? Just how good could they be? Neil forced himself to consider the situation objectively for a moment and realized this could be a Cup contending team. This could be a league dominating team.
Though only if Neil played along, which felt like swallowing razors in his current state of mind.
On the bus ride home, Magnusson did what Neil dreaded and confronted him. Neil told him off again, and it felt good to get it all out. For a little while, anyway. By the time he was back in his room at the team’s hotel, he felt like a jerk. Kicking a dog that had wanted to play with him wouldn’t have felt worse. And so, stressed, unable to sleep even though he’d been awake over twenty-four hours, Neil made a reckless decision.
Adrian Magnusson made one, too.
Neil had never known pure terror as he had in that bar when he turned on his stool and found the Swedish winger standing over him. The world ended for him, and for a fleeting second, Neil feared he might cry.
Thankfully, Magnusson managed to talk him off the ledge, managed to keep him from bolting, and now they were here, in some cheap hotel and the Swede’s shirt was in Neil’s hands and Magnusson’s hand was curled possessively around Neil’s hip as though he wanted to throw Neil across the room. At the bed.
“You going to tell me what you like?” Magnusson—no, they were using first names now—Adrian asked, his voice impossibly deep and sending chills across Neil’s skin. “Or am I going to have to guess?”
“Read the play,” Neil shot back. “You know how to score.”
It was embarrassingly cheesy, but it was also a safe response, because even though he was more aroused than he’d ever been in his life, there was still so much unknown. How long had Adrian Magnusson known he was gay? Who else knew? How often had Adrian done this? What did he want from this encounter? The impossible had become possible and was eyeing Neil as though he were a snack, but Neil had questions.
“Yeah, I do,” Adrian said. He tightened his grip on Neil’s hip, inspiring instant thoughts of bruises and handprints. “I hope you didn’t plan on going back to the hotel tonight, because I’m keeping you here.”