by RJ Scott
Now it was his turn to fake horror. “That hurts.”
We exchanged smiles, but as soon as the bus pulled up in the parking area he had his game face on, and I went back to being slightly scared, vulnerable, and a neurotic mess, in an instant.
I swear when they caught whoever was doing this shit, I would pummel him so damn hard.
Chapter Nine
An overtime loss to the Arsenal in an afternoon game wasn’t the best result for the Dragons, but we’d expected it somehow. They’d been playing a strong game at home, and our away matchups weren’t gelling as much as we’d hoped. At least we’d go home with one point for taking the game into overtime, but it wasn’t the two points for an outright win that we’d wanted. The highlight was when my line was out against Kyle’s. I’d played up against him since we were fifteen and working our way through juniors, right up until we’d both been drafted. I could forget all my issues and have fun while I played, and even at NHL level it was good to be on the ice with him.
Brothers, not by blood, but by everything else that was important.
“Hi!” The hug he gave me was everything I needed, and as Jason moved us away from the open door and shut it, I clung to Kyle a lot longer than he probably expected. So much so that he stepped back, placed his hands on my arms, and squeezed. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?” He glanced over my shoulder to Jason, and the two shook hands.
“Jason,” he introduced himself.
“Kyle.”
“I’m a huge fan,” Jason admitted, and I was hoping this was all enough for Kyle not to ask any more questions about that prolonged hug.
“Thank you,” Kyle said with typical Kyle confidence before moving into the kitchen and gesturing for us to follow. “I have beer, but there’s also soda in the fridge. I asked Colin over.”
“New guy?”
“Not really, just someone that… never mind. Tell me more about the stalker?”
I glanced at Jason who inclined his head as if he was giving me tacit approval to explain everything to my best friend. But, I didn’t want to explain. Of course, I’d tell Kyle everything, but that would be after it was over, when he and Mamma P and Bobby didn’t have to worry about me.
“We played shit tonight,” I lied. We’d played well, but the Dragons and the Arsenal were so evenly matched as to make any game difficult to win.
I could see when the worry in Kyle’s eyes became something different; his love for shooting the shit over hockey had made him think that was the one thing I had on my mind, and it was a good feeling. Jason stayed quiet at first, but when I came back after a bathroom break he and Kyle were talking and laughing, and I noticed that Jason had taken off his jacket and was now sporting a brand new Arsenal jersey with Kyle’s name and number on the back. Irrational jealousy snapped inside me, but what was I going to do? Demand that Jason only wear my jersey?
Territorial much?
“We may as well start heating up the food,” he said, just after my stomach rumbled and Kyle’s phone vibrated with a message. “It’s just us after all.”
“Colin can’t make it?”
Kyle huffed, “Colin broke it off.”
“By text?”
“Given we got together on text, fucked once, and he never called me back, I think the invite tonight was a step too far in his fuck-everyone life.” He shook his head.
Jason stepped out of the kitchen then, heading for the sitting room of this comfortable house, as if he knew Kyle and I needed a little bit of space. It had been a long time since I’d talked at length with Kyle, our entire friendship centered on exchanging GIFs and jokes on WhatsApp. The last serious talk we’d had was over what to get Mamma P for her birthday, and that had been a three-way conversation with Bobby, plus extra input from Bobby’s partner.
“Maybe,” I offered.
“I just want…” He sighed and took the lasagna from the counter and put it into his oven. I knew he must have made it himself, he was better in the kitchen than I ever would be. “Someone,” he finished, then set the timer.
“It will happen,” I said with as much positive spin as I could. Finding that special person, in our line of work, who wasn’t the male version of a puck bunny, was hard. But I knew players who’d found their significant others.
Kyle pulled the door closed, and lowered his voice, “So tell me about Jason.”
“What about him?”
“Start with his skills and work down.” He winked at me.
I shook my head. “I don’t know many bodyguards but he’s one of the good ones, I think. Keeps me safe anyway.”
“While I’m pleased he’s good at his job, now tell me about Jason. The bedroom eyes, the soft wavy hair, those dark eyes, and his ass… tell me he’s gay, or that I can turn him.”
“No fucking way,” I said so fast that I knew I’d given myself away, or rather, in that instant reaction I’d come to learn something about myself. “Well, shit,” I added when Kyle laughed at me so hard tears were leaking from his eyes.
“The way you look at him, it’s so freaking obvious.”
“No, it’s not, don’t talk crap.”
“And the way he stares at you, come on, don’t tell me you haven’t noticed?”
“He stares because it’s his job to keep me safe, asshole.”
“That would be when he’s looking around for danger,” He placed his hands under his chin. “Not when he’s staring at you and doing that whole velvet-eyed lust thing.”
“Fuck off,” I elbowed him in the side.
He laughed. “I bet if you check his phone he’ll have your entire ESPN naked body shoot on there.”
I buried my face in my hands. When I was twenty and stupid it had seemed like a good idea. I was fit, I had the whole ‘V’ thing going on from hips to groin, hairless chest, thick thighs from skating, and I was on an NHL team. It will promote health, they’d said, it’s demonstrating how the body of an athlete is honed, they’d added.
“Why didn’t you stop me doing that?” I groaned, and scrubbed my eyes, aware my best friend was staring at me with his mouth open.
“Why would I have stopped you? You looked good out there with the Zamboni and the plastic hippo, not to mention the Popsicle they had you sucking…”
“Freaking hippos,” I muttered. The kitchen was filling with the scents of meat sauce and cheese and my stomach rumbled again, and thank God, Kyle changed the subject. I didn’t regret doing the shoot, and yeah I got chirped by other players, but for the main part it had been a positive experience. Kyle only let me wallow for a little while though, and he set about changing the subject.
“Talking of exposing yourself in public, this auction, man, I can’t believe you talked me into it. I had that invite arrive, and it made it seem so real.”
“Charity,” I reminded him, “and it’s harmless fun.”
“What if the person who wins me is a psycho, or worse, a Dragons fan, or hell, both.”
I patted him on the back. “I have the market cornered in psychos, and you’d be lucky if any Dragons fan wasted their money on you.”
I was trying for joking, but I could see that moment where the conversation circled back around to me and the stalker, because Kyle turned back to serious and did that whole hand-on-my-arm thing he was so good at.
“Are you safe?”
“With Jason at my side I’m safer than you can imagine,” I kept my tone light, and didn’t for one moment let any doubt creep into my words. I thought I’d worked through my initial fear, and the anger, and that I’d worked my way to acceptance, but this away game had been an exercise in vigilance and I’d have been lying if the stalker wasn’t front and center in my mind when we were out in the open.
There’d been another hacking of the Jumbotron back at the Dragon’s arena after a hard won win against Vancouver. Luckily, the content had been innocuous, the big screen that hung over the ice showed photos of lilies, pixelated, and repeating hundreds of times, but the team that Deamax
had on site hadn’t managed to get it down for five minutes. The arena had been empty of an audience, but the act itself had made Jason tense all of Monday, and that filtered through to me.
“What about your car?”
My chest tightened. “Still missing, probably in pieces on its way to fuck knows where.”
He squeezed me one last time and then released me as the oven timer chimed. “That’s shit,” he said, but the distraction of bringing the lasagna to the dining table, plus me being in charge of getting the salad from the refrigerator, was enough for all talk about the stalker to be done with.
By the time we’d left Kyle’s place, all usual checks made, I only relaxed when we shut the door on the hotel suite Deamax had arranged so Jason had a room with me. I promised myself to make more time to meet up with Kyle, and to visit Mamma P as soon as I could.
“I like Kyle,” Jason said, closing drapes then flicking switches to flood the suite with light. He did his usual checks, and throughout all of it, he talked about the night. The amazing food, the company, the fact that the sun shone out of Kyle’s ass, and how lucky I was that we were like brothers. When he’d done his checks, he came back to me standing in the hallway, reaching past me and turning off all but the low lamps by the sofas in front of the large television.
“He’s single,” I bit out, my love for Kyle and the need to see him happy outweighing the heavy lust that dragged me down.
“Huh?”
“Single, as in not with anyone. Do you want his number?”
Please don’t take his number.
“Oh, I don’t like him that way.” Jason shrugged off his jacket, placed it on the back of the nearest chair, then crossed to the sofa and fell back into its corner. At home he’d pick up his laptop, but tonight he left it sitting on the coffee table, and loosening his tie, he leaned his head back and shut his eyes. “I just think he’s a good guy, genuine, is all. You agree, eh?” He must have been tired, because his Canadian was showing.
I grabbed a bottle of water and one for Jason then joined him on the sofa, tossing the bottle at him and mildly turned on by the way he caught it without even looking.
You have it bad, Garrett.
“Of course he’s a good guy.” I was fiercely loyal, and anyway, he was the best of men. Devoted to family and friends, and just everything I needed in my life. A steadying rock who kept me chained to reality in those moments when I felt as if everything was spinning out of control.
“Should I be worried that you and him are a thing, or that he has any deep, dark secret need to make you pay for something that happened in the past?”
“What the fuck?”
“It’s a simple question.” He frowned as if he didn’t expect me to react.
“There’s nothing simple about that, and you’re not seriously thinking he has anything to do with what’s happening?” Disbelief warred with a sudden snap of anger. Who did Jason think he was to extend his suspicions to include one of the only people I called family. Everything fell out of me in defense of Kyle. “I billeted with him and his family when we played juniors. His mamma is more of a mom to me than mine ever was. He and I fooled around once or twice at camp, got caught but we never dated. He’s like my brother and that would be fucking weird. So no, he has nothing to do with what is happening to me and the team.”
I’d worked up a full head of steam, and my pacing was taking me a little closer to him with each pass.
“Maybe I’m not asking for that reason,” Jason muttered, so low I could barely hear him, and then on the next pass, before I could get to the safety of the other side of him, he grabbed me. I lost balance and tumbled down on top of him, sprawled, my face mashing into his chest and my legs tangled with his. I fought to pull away and managed to get half upright so I could look him in the eyes.
“What the hell?”
“Against my better judgment, I’m wondering if the coast is clear?”
“Huh?”
“You’re always talking about Kyle, and you hugged him for the longest time, so I was just putting two and two together.”
“And making five,” I snapped and attempted to wriggle free, but I couldn’t find purchase and I slumped back down as it hit me what he’d said. “Wait, what do you mean the coast is clear? Clear for what?” I aimed for cautious questioning.
And then, before I could take another breath, he kissed me, and my entire world shifted on its axis.
Chapter Ten
He pulled back just before things started to get interesting, and there was real shock in his eyes.
“I just wanted you to stop thinking,” he said quickly, as if excusing a lapse in judgment. “This is entirely fucking stupid,” he muttered, and placed his hands on my hips as if he was going to lever me off his lap. That was not happening.
That wasn’t what I wanted to hear, in fact I wanted more kissing and he needed me to show him that.
“Shhh,” I said, and scrambled to sit up a little, moving to straddle his lap, and then I caught his face in my hands and returned the kiss, which soon became more. At some point he slid lower, and I tumbled off his lap, but instead of breaking the kiss, we backed out of the sitting room and into my bedroom, falling back onto the bed, and scooting up to the pillows, more kissing, and I needed skin. Then he stopped, he pulled himself off me and he moved back to the wall. “Shit. We shouldn’t be doing this.”
“You started it,” I encouraged.
“And I should stop it… but you…” he gestured at me, and I had no idea what he was trying to say. Was he implying it was all my fault? “I can’t resist you,” he finished.
So, this wasn’t a fault thing, this was a don’t mess with the client thing.
“We’re doing this.” I left no room for argument, after all, this attraction had been simmering since day one. He looked tortured, then miserable, then resigned, and then finally, he sighed heavily.
“I want you,” he said. “I can’t not have you in my arms right now.”
I patted the bed. “Come on then.”
He was back on the bed, on his knees, and then he used his solid weight to press me into the mattress, and I widened my legs, wishing I’d thought to take off my jeans first. The denim was super uncomfortable, restricting my hard-on, and I shoved him off only long enough to strip to my underwear as he did the same thing.
There was such intensity in his expression and when he crawled up the bed toward me all I could think of was a tiger stalking its prey.
Never let it be said I wasn’t the poetic type.
He pushed me flat and took up his toppy position where he was calling all the shots, and god, that was exactly what I wanted tonight. Maybe next time it would be me ordering him to bend over for me, but at this moment I was desperate for him to take control and still all the fears in my head. His kisses were as intense as his glances, deep, sensual twists of his tongue, his teeth scraping my lips, then tracking to the pulse in my throat, until he could focus on my nipples, a finger on one, his lips on the other, sucking and twisting as I carded my hands into his curls and held on for the ride.
When he traveled down my body to suck me, mouthing at my balls, biting the skin of my inner thigh, sending me to the stars, I wriggled and shoved and pushed until I could turn and get my mouth on him at the same time. I didn’t last long enough to enjoy it, one touch of his finger to my hole with barely-there pressure and I was coming so hard I lost track of what I was doing to his cock. Instead, open-mouthed, I cursed into the orgasm, and blissed out, my sucking became gentler, and almost sleepy, and he loved it.
He cradled my head, grinding against me as I moved my lips over him, and sucked, nibbled, and pulled him over the edge.
When he came it wasn’t with a shout like me, or with whiteout pleasure that made me want to laugh. No, his orgasm was quieter, deeper, and when he was done, he yanked me up for a kiss, then gathered me into his arms and pulled the quilt over us.
I could stay like this forever.
We l
ay quietly and I traced patterns on his broad chest, stopping at a puckered pink scar, and worrying at the skin around it.
“Was this why you left the Marines?” I was curious as to what small thing could have taken down such a big man.
“Through bullet, but it was one of three, and this one was very close to my heart. I was lucky, others weren’t as lucky.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked.
He caught the hand that I was using to touch the scar, brought it up to his lips and pressed a kiss there. “Nothing more to say, hazard of the job. Now, sleep.”
I couldn’t sleep, even after his breathing evened out. All I could do was think about how I wasn’t built for relationships—that much I’d accepted. I was a sportsman always on the road, focused one hundred and ten percent on my career, and the next game on the schedule. Even the summer break was packed with training and conditioning.
Also, was a liaison with my bodyguard even a good idea? What about him taking his eyes off the ball, what about me doing something stupid. Yes, I lusted for Jason, for all the sexy ways he had slotted into my life. But this was serious stuff.
I was sure I’d come to some kind of conclusion, but I didn’t take it into my dreams, and when I woke up wrapped in Jason’s arms everything felt wrong.
I mean, it was right on a hundred different levels. The way he was holding me, the scent of him, the warmth of his skin, memories of what we’d done last night, the soft words and gentle touches, that was all exactly right.
But, it was the fact that any minute now he’d wake up and tell me that we shouldn’t have kissed, or ended up together in my huge bed. Him saying that was as inevitable as me watching Die Hard every Christmas, so I eased myself out from his hold, pausing as he mumbled something in his sleep and turned on his side away from me. I don’t know what I was expecting but him still sleeping wasn’t on the list. He was always up and working when I normally woke, so seeing him lying still was unnerving to say the least.