Eye on the Ball

by Shelley Munro

  Without warning, Leon broke their kiss and stared at Hunter in horror. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his breathing harsh as if he’d sprinted the length of a rugby field.

  Hunter cautiously moved closer, intending to soothe his agitation, but Leon’s hand snapped out, holding him at arm’s length. An internal struggled played out on his face while they eyed each other.

  “Do you want me to leave?” Hunter forced out the words, steeling himself for a rude dismissal.

  “Turn away from me and put your hands on the desk.”

  Hunter gawked at Leon, unsure of the emotional currents swamping the office, terrified he’d say the wrong thing. The man had the whole poker face thing going on, and Hunter couldn’t tell shit.

  “You want me,” Leon said, “You do things my way.”

  Chapter Two

  A foreign entity possessed his body. Hunter Blair wasn’t his type. He was too big, too much of a smartarse.

  He wasn’t Jason.

  A tremor racked him, anguish bringing a prickling sensation to the back of his eyes.

  “Are you crying?”

  “I’m not fuckin’ crying,” Leon snarled, blinking rapidly.

  Blair pulled away, his dark brows rising in patent disbelief. Good. Maybe the man would leave, and he wouldn’t have to follow through with his dare. Relief filled Leon when Blair moved, but his next breath caught because Blair, slowly and deliberately, turned away from him and placed his hands on the desk.

  Challenge accepted.

  “What are you waiting for?”

  “For you to shut up.” If the man uttered another word, he’d kick him out the door without regret. The muscles in Blair’s arms and shoulders bunched as his weight shifted. Leon eyed the line of the man’s spine, the curve of his muscular arse and was lost. God, he ached for human contact. Blair standing in front of him, obeying his will was like offering a sandwich to a starving man.

  Leon reached out to touch Blair, to ground the man and noticed the quiver of his hand. He drew a sharp breath and clenched his fingers to a fist. At the back of his mind, he noted Blair hadn’t moved or spoken since he’d snapped at him. Approval filled him, and some of his old confidence asserted itself.

  This time his hand remained steady, and he stroked Blair’s shoulder. Warmth penetrated the T-shirt, but Leon craved skin contact. He slipped his hand beneath the cotton, savoring the fiery heat, letting his fingertips absorb the firm flesh. Hunger coalesced in him, bringing urgency as if he’d unplugged something within himself. He couldn’t handle enough skin or act quickly enough to satisfy the blast of hunger crashing over him.

  He slid his hands over Blair’s broad back and under to speed over solid pectoral muscles. Now that he’d started there were things he wanted to do to Blair. So many things.

  Leon let instinct guide him, listened to Blair’s hiss when he pinched a nipple. He tugged and pinched again until the disc hardened.

  “More.”

  “No talking,” Leon reminded him in a harsh voice. “Don’t move an inch.”

  “How will you know what I like?”

  “Your body will tell me.” Leon’s mind was already telling him Blair was a sub, an instinct honed from years of observation.

  “But—”

  “Quiet.” He enforced the order by moving his right hand to cover Blair’s mouth. Stubble tickled his palm, while Blair’s lips were surprisingly soft. Leon almost laughed when Blair’s lips pursed against his hand, and the urge took him by surprise. There hadn’t been a lot of merriment in his life recently.

  Once Leon was sure Blair intended to remain silent, he removed his hand. Time to unwrap his surprise present. Unable to resist, he skimmed his fingers down Hunter’s rib cage. Hard muscle met his touch, the body of an athlete who worked to hone his physique. Continuing his exploration, he trailed his hands lower, teasing the tender skin between Blair’s belly button and the waistband of his black trousers.

  Blair hissed and pushed into his touch.

  Leon was tempted to dally, but the press of his cock pushed him onward. He reached for Blair’s fly and fumbled before his fingers yanked the zipper, wrenching it down to get to his prize.

  “Nice,” he whispered as he handled Blair’s dick through his boxer-briefs. Impatient suddenly, he tugged aside the underwear to get at his cock. Warm, hard flesh brushed his palm, the scent of arousal pushing at Leon’s control.

  “God,” Blair muttered in a pained voice.

  Leon wished he could see Blair’s face. Another time. In lieu, he caressed the cock in his hands, tracing his fingers over the head. On his second sweep, liquid greeted his touch. “Do you like that?”

  “Am I allowed to talk now?”

  Smartarse. “You can answer me if I ask a question.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  A shiver worked through Leon at the reply. The words meant more than they should, given the circumstances. Hell, a one-night stand and a relationship bore nothing in common. His fingers worked Blair’s shaft with measured strokes, enough to make urgency thrum, yet not enough to make him come.

  The office door flew open. “Boss, if you’re hiding in here again— Oops.”

  Blair flinched and started to straighten. Leon pushed his weight against him, holding him in position. “Steady.”

  Leon eyeballed Jana. She wore a smirk but wiped the expression clean at his scowl. “I’m not hiding.”

  “I can see that, boss.” Humor shimmered in her words.

  “Did you need something?”

  “Ah, no. Since you’re busy…ah…working I’ll leave you to get on with it.”

  “Please,” Blair muttered in an undertone.

  Leon stifled his irritation at the interruption. “Knock next time.”

  “Will do, boss.” The door shut, and a burst of laughter filtered back to them.

  Leon’s mouth twitched, but he didn’t let any hint of a sound free because he didn’t know Blair well enough to predict his reaction. The last thing he wanted was a pissed man stomping off in a huff.

  “I hope she’s signed one of those contracts too,” Blair said finally.

  A snort exploded from Leon. “She’s the soul of discretion, unless she wants to nag your arse about something, then she’s like a bloody pit bull.”

  “Sounds like the voice of experience.”

  Leon grunted. “Didn’t I tell you to keep quiet?”

  “You stopped, and I figured it was my turn to talk again.”

  Leon yanked down Blair’s trousers and underwear, leaving them in a heap around his ankles. He lifted his hand, slapping Blair’s butt with a loud crack then paused, half expecting a protest. A sting burned across the palm of his hand while he stared at the flush of pink on one cheek.

  “Speak and I’ll slap you again.”

  Much to his surprise, Blair didn’t protest. He didn’t move or react in any way.

  “Wait there while I get lube and condoms.”

  Blair’s hungry gaze tracked him as he moved around the desk to grab the supplies from the same shelving where he’d collected the T-shirt. He didn’t move a muscle.

  Leon was impressed. He unbuttoned his shirt and returned, taking a moment to admire the sight. Spectacular backside. Taut muscles tempted him to touch and stroke. Blair shuddered and moaned at the caress, tension tightening each of his muscles.

  “Relax.” Without breaking contact, he opened the bottle of lube. He kept his voice low and reassuring, settling into his normal role. With a heap of lube on his fingertips, he started playing. Teasing. Massaging Blair’s hole. His finger slipped inside, and the man jerked at his touch.

  Leon wanted to groan out loud at the heat searing his digit. In. Out. He stretched and tormented Blair, hurtling him toward climax. Another finger slipped inside. More lube. A low moan emerged from Blair, his limbs straining as he fought to stay in position.

  “Steady.” Leon ripped at his trousers, unable to get them off quick enough for his liking. Blair wasn’t the only one in a
hurry. Leon fumbled with the condom, finally managing to roll it into place. He grabbed more lube, then he was pushing into Blair. Felt damn good, and he fought the need to slam balls deep. A pain in his chest reminded him to breathe. He dragged in a lungful of air and leaned over to nuzzle Blair’s neck, drawing in his scent. Unable to resist, he stroked his tongue in a lazy drag from the base of Blair’s neck to the tender skin below his ear. The man smelled of soap and rum.

  “Damn. Leon. Harder.”

  Leon pulled out and sank deep again. He nipped at Blair’s neck, partly in punishment ’cause the guy wouldn’t shut up and partly because he wanted to mark him. When his mind flitted to the “why” of his actions, his head ached and guilt loomed large and scary.

  “I’m not gonna break.”

  “Remind me to use a gag next time.”

  “There’s gonna be a next time?”

  Leon bit his lip, not willing to answer the question. He changed the angle of his thrust, grimacing when Blair cursed. His hand reached around to cup the heavy weight of Blair’s balls, rolling them with his fingers. Oh yeah. Leon liked the hungry little moan that emerged from Blair and wanted to hear it again.

  Somehow he managed to keep thrusting and stroking Blair’s cock. A difficult task when pleasure darted along his veins. Each hard stroke sent bursts of heat rampaging though him. Blair’s channel fluttered around his shaft. Tight. Perfect. God, he was hanging on by a thread. He didn’t want to come first.

  A choked, breathless cry came from Blair, and seconds later, he climaxed, his release wet and warm against Leon’s hand.

  Leon’s balls tightened, his control slipping to the breaking point. He pulled back and thrust. A second stroke, and he convulsed, the tight clasp more stimulation than he could handle. Weak knees had him leaning against Blair, their sweat-slicked skins sticking together. For long seconds, Leon rested, luxuriating in the release and the intimacy. He let his mind wander, thoughts of how much he loved Jason filling him with gratitude.

  Blair stirred, jolting him from his daydreams of the past. Cursing inwardly, Leon pulled out and grabbed some tissues to clean up, all the while berating himself for weakening, for needing someone.

  Leon yanked his clothes back to rights, trying not to think or look at Blair. Guilt tightened in bands around his chest, the knowledge of his disloyalty to Jason constricting his throat, burying him. He wanted to flee, to run and hide, but the idea of Jana hunting him down cut the instinct dead. No, he’d act as if nothing had happened and show Blair around the club. He’d do Kane proud.

  “You ready for the tour now?” Leon stole a glance at Blair and found him watching his every action. He stilled, the rawness of his wounds bringing vulnerability. It didn’t help that Blair’s gaze sliced through him, knowing and aware. Confident in his own skin when Leon stumbled like an unsteady child, remorse threatening to overwhelm him.

  “It’s getting late, and I have an early start. I’ll do the tour another time.” Blair fell silent, used the tissues Leon handed him, then started to dress. “Will I see you again?”

  Chapter Three

  Five days later

  Hunter fired the rugby ball along the backline to the winger, pleased with his snappy precision even as he struggled to remain focused. The answer to his question—a big, fat no. Leon hadn’t replied to one of his phone messages and obviously had no intention of speaking to him again, let alone repeating some of the best sex of Hunter’s life.

  He couldn’t let Leon get away with the snub. Whatever the problem, he’d work to fix it for Leon, for both of them.

  “Blair!” the coach roared. “Eye on the ball.”

  Hunter’s smile turned feral as he continued working the drills at the last coaching session before they played the Melbourne Thunder. He’d keep his eye on the ball, but it wouldn’t always be the one the coach intended. After the game tonight, he’d return to the club and track down Leon.

  “Blair, I want you to work with the kicking coach once we finish here.”

  Hunter nodded agreeably. Only a few hours to go. Working at his precision skills would fill some of the time until kickoff.

  He’d managed to get through the hours with minimal impatience. Now the clock ticked down the last minutes before the start of the game, and Hunter prowled the dressing room, nerves churning in the pit of his stomach. He made a quick trip to the toilet for a nervous piss before resuming his pacing. It was always like this—the all-encompassing anxiety that made it impossible for him to eat before a match.

  Tonight was even worse because the coach had put him on the bench. He’d get a start on the paddock, but unless one of the team suffered an injury, he wouldn’t play until the second half.

  A call went out. Finally. Rugby boots clattered on the concrete floors. Hunter took up the rear with the rest of the reserves, keeping his tracksuit on in order to keep warm. The roar of the crowd grew deafening as they approached the entrance of the tunnel, cheers battering his ears. A blaze of bright blue and yellow, the Melbourne Thunder’s colors filled most of the stadium with pockets of navy and white indicating a few die-hard Auckland fans.

  Hunter’s stomach lurched at the nearly tangible anticipation swirling through the air. The loudspeaker system crackled with a blast of music and the announcer ran through the teams, detailing their positions and a few snippets of player history.

  After a quick warm-up and toss of the ball, Hunter took his place on the bench while the two squads ran onto the field and moved to their positions. The Thunder won the toss, and decided to kickoff. As the ball sailed into the air, Hunter sensed someone watching him. He glanced in the direction of the Melbourne bench and did a double-take.

  Leon?

  Hunter’s eyes widened in consternation. Leon wore the Melbourne Thunder uniform with Trainer emblazoned across his chest. Bastard! He’d let Hunter think— No, he’d assumed Leon’s position at the club and hadn’t asked questions because he’d preferred to concentrate on hot sex instead of mundane getting-to-know-you chit-chat. Hunter stared until the other man broke visual contact. He couldn’t decide whether to focus on his anger or march over there and lay a big one on Leon’s sexy lips.

  A cheer rang out, ripping Hunter from his mental debate. His team was practically on the opposition’s try line. Their kicker struck the ball sweetly, aiming for the corner. Perfect placement. The ball bounced. Their winger snapped it up and dived over the line. Try!

  Hunter leapt to his feet with the other reserves, encouraging their team with claps and cheers.

  “Hell, looks like Reece is injured in back play,” one of the reserves said.

  “Hunter, start warming up,” one of their trainers called.

  Hunter hurriedly yanked off his outer layer of clothes and did some stretches. Their kicker lay curled in a ball, a pained grimace on his face. Looked like a groin injury of some sort. Hunter sympathized but intended to make the most of this chance to prove he was past his thigh injury and in the best form of his life. He smothered a grin in order to focus, but Leon’s presence to witness him running around in tight shorts didn’t hurt a bit.

  Despite the knowledge he’d see Blair tonight, he wasn’t prepared for the visceral shock. The man stuck in his brain like…like a messy piece of chewing gum on the bottom of a boot.

  If he’d listened to his gut instinct and restricted their contact to a quick tour of the club facilities, he wouldn’t suffer from this insidious craving now. And the guilt…he wouldn’t feel as if he’d cheated on Jason because of his weakness. Leon stared at Blair as he pushed his mouth guard into place and trotted onto the field to take the injured player’s position. Blair’s lack of form would be frustrating him and the recent injuries wouldn’t help. It was good he was getting some game time. Yeah, he was pleased for the man. Nothing personal. Just a professional observation. Yeah, right. He watched every player’s arse with the same devotion.

  Blair played like a demon, using his experience to direct play along the backline. He kicked with
pinpoint accuracy and slotted over four of the five conversions for the tries scored by his Auckland team. The time clock ticked toward the final whistle.

  “Fuckin’ Blair,” one of the Melbourne players groused. “I thought he was supposed to be past his prime.”

  Pride filled Leon, taking him by surprise because his team was losing. Badly. He scowled, yet was unable to stop following the play of the ball, which happened to be in Blair’s competent hands. Two hefty forwards tackled him. The three went down in a heap of bodies, Blair crunched at the bottom of the pile. Leon winced, held his breath. Somehow, Blair managed to turn and slip the ball back to his halfback. The ball sped along the backline, passed from player to player. Blair jumped to his feet and took off, apparently none the worse for wear. Only then did Leon’s breath ease out.

  Shock kicked in then as he admitted the truth. Despite his guilt, he wanted Blair. He wanted him tied to his bed, his backside pinked from a few well-delivered blows. The thing was what was he going to do about it?

  “Good game,” the coach said.

  His grudging tone didn’t escape Hunter. While it was true he’d acted wild and stupid when he first played professional rugby, he had no idea why the coach disliked him so much.

  Hunter tossed aside his towel, pulled on a clean shirt and fastened the buttons. A pity they had a sponsor’s dinner tonight. It was gonna seriously cut into his private time.

  “Man of the match,” the Auckland captain said, clapping Hunter across the back.

  Steam whooshed from the showers, and the scent of soap and deodorant mixed with the faint whiff of liniment and smelly socks.

  “I got lucky.” Impatience simmered in Hunter. They’d fly back to Auckland tomorrow morning. If he didn’t catch Leon tonight, he’d have to wait three weeks before their next away game in Sydney. Even that wouldn’t mean a certain meet with Leon. It’d depend on where the Melbourne team were playing. Heck, it seemed nothing about Leon would be easy.