Tough Guy (Game Changers)

by Rachel Reid

  It was also nice to be the best player in the game for a change.

  Ryan switched teams a few times, because it was only fair. He had fun taking shots on Wyatt, who beat him most of the time. Either way, they both laughed a lot.

  When it was time to leave, Anne came to help Wyatt distribute the Guardians merchandise he had brought. It was mostly ball caps and pucks, which Ryan and Wyatt both spent some time signing.

  “Thank you so much for coming,” Anne said to Ryan as he signed the last of the pucks. “The kids really love having you guys visit.”

  “I had fun,” Ryan said. “I’d be happy to come back. And if there’s anything you need...”

  She laughed. “We need everything. But if you want to spread the word about how to donate to us, I’ll always appreciate that.”

  “You ready to go?” Wyatt asked. He was holding the empty, balled-up duffle bag.

  “Yeah. Okay.”

  “Do you think I could come with you again next time?” Ryan asked when they were pulling out of the parking lot.

  Wyatt looked delighted. “Absolutely! So you liked the kids? They’re great, right?”

  Ryan smiled. “I liked them.”

  * * *

  Dallas Kent’s house was exactly what Ryan had expected it to be: enormous, ostentatious, and stupid. It definitely reflected the personality of its owner.

  Ryan had very begrudgingly made the drive out to Kleinburg for Kent’s birthday party, hoping the entire way that it would be a laidback sort of affair that would mostly just be his teammates and their partners. He was dismayed to find that, despite the ridiculous size of Kent’s mansion, it was uncomfortably crowded with people. Most of the people were young women Ryan didn’t recognize. He did not, in fact, see many of his teammates’ wives and girlfriends present.

  “Kent lives here alone, doesn’t he?” Ryan asked. He absently trailed his finger over the keys of a grand piano Kent owned for some reason.

  “Well,” said Wyatt, “I don’t think he spends many nights here alone.”

  Gross.

  Ryan wasn’t going to pretend he had the best eye for design and decor, but Kent’s house looked like it had been decorated by a team of frat boys who had each been given a million dollars and told to spend it on “rich guy things.” The result was a hideous mess of giant televisions, marble statues and fountains, framed black-and-white “tasteful” photographs of naked women, leather couches, and, yes, a grand piano. Ryan had only seen a few rooms, but as far as he could tell every light fixture was a chandelier.

  “I guess the basement is the real party place,” Wyatt said. “Legendary beer pong matches have happened down there. I’ve heard the stories.”

  “Great.” Ryan took a sip of his beer. “Do some of these girls seem kinda young to you?”

  “Everyone seems kind of young to me these days. But yes.”

  “Where did they come from?”

  Wyatt shrugged. “Who knows? Kent always manages to surround himself with women. The guy is obsessed.”

  Wyatt said it lightly, but Ryan had noticed that Kent seemed to have an unhealthy fixation on women. And on what he could get those women to do. Ryan had played with a lot of guys who talked about women in ways that made Ryan’s skin crawl, but Kent was very possibly the worst of them.

  “You look like you’re expecting the man of your dreams to show up at this party,” Wyatt said with a grin.

  “What?”

  “You look stylish. The tight, sexy clothes, I mean. It’s a good look on you.”

  “Whatever,” Ryan said, but he felt his cheeks heat. In truth, he had put quite a bit of effort into his appearance tonight. He had used his hair product, and had rubbed oil into his beard, as per Guillaume’s instructions. And he’d worn an outfit he had bought with the intention of wearing to a gay club the next time he ever decided to go to one: charcoal jeans that had some stretch in the fabric, so they hugged the significant bulge of his thighs and ass, and a black, short-sleeved button-up shirt that strained around his biceps and across his pecs. The outfit was a lot more revealing than the loose shirts and bootcut jeans he normally wore.

  Ryan wasn’t sure what had prompted him to dress outside his comfort zone tonight. His teammates had teased him a bit about his makeover when they’d first seen him before the game last night. Now they were back to mostly ignoring him.

  “Houde just texted me.” Wyatt held up his phone. “There’s a poker game starting downstairs. You want in?”

  “No thanks. I’m going to stay up here, I think.”

  “For fuck’s sake. This is the Halloween party all over again. You didn’t even wear a costume to that!”

  “I wore a costume,” Ryan protested. “I was a cowboy.”

  “Yeah, but when your whole costume is a hat, and then you leave that hat on a chair all night, it ain’t a costume.” Wyatt clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t have too much fun, Pricey.”

  He pushed his way through the crowd toward the door that led to the basement. Ryan spotted an empty love seat, and moved quickly to sit down. He hadn’t even been sitting for a minute when a young woman dropped into the seat next to him.

  “Hi.” The woman was very pretty. She had wavy blond hair and enormous blue eyes, and Ryan had no idea who she was.

  “Hi,” he replied. He couldn’t think of anything else to say, so he took a sip of beer and glanced away.

  She sat there, without speaking, and he wondered if she was expecting him to flirt with her or something. She’d picked the wrong guy. Gay or not, Ryan couldn’t flirt with anyone.

  Eventually the woman, who he was sure was perfectly nice, gave up on him and left. Ryan inwardly cringed at how rude he must have seemed. He wished he could just wear a sign that said I’m sorry. I am terrible at socializing. Please don’t take it personally.

  In fact, why was Ryan even here? He didn’t want to drink anymore. He didn’t want to make conversation with people. He didn’t want to gently deflect the poor women who tried to flirt with him. He didn’t want to play poker, and he definitely didn’t want to see Dallas Kent’s legendary party basement.

  He wanted to dance with Fabian. He wanted to celebrate Tarek’s birthday, who Ryan barely knew. But he wanted to know him. He wanted to know all of Fabian’s friends.

  He glanced at his phone. It was almost eleven thirty. It would probably take Ryan an hour to drive back to the Village, which would probably leave him plenty of time to hang out at the club with people whose company he actually enjoyed. In a place where he could be himself.

  Or, better yet, be who he wanted to be.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Fabian didn’t feel like dancing.

  He’d been looking forward to this night for weeks, and now that he was in the middle of a loud, pulsating nightclub that was packed with beautiful people, he was bored.

  He and his friends had been at Force for over two hours. Marcus and Tarek were long gone, lost to the throng of bodies on the dance floor. Vanessa had been hanging out with Fabian at the high-top table he’d managed to snag, but she’d gone to the bathroom a while ago and had never come back. Fabian wasn’t worried about her; that was classic Vanessa behavior. She had most likely run into someone she knew. Or fifteen people she knew. Vanessa knew everyone.

  Fabian used his straw to poke at the mostly melted ice cubes that were left in his gin and tonic glass. He’d already politely declined three different men who had approached him. He wasn’t surprised—he was alone and he looked fucking fantastic. He’d worn a white lace tank top, which he’d tucked loosely into his black jeans so it billowed slightly off of his slim torso. He’d splurged on the Anastasia Beverly Hills Moonchild Glow makeup kit, and now his face was a shimmering masterpiece of metallic lavender, pink, and silver.

  But who was it all for? Could he admit to himself that there was only one perso
n he truly wanted to dance with? To have admire him. To have touch him.

  Oh, Fabian. What have you done to yourself?

  He thought about getting another drink, but he didn’t really want one. He wanted to leave. Would it be rude if he left? He would text his friends of course. He could say that he had a headache or some such thing. It’s not like it was early; it was nearly one o’clock.

  In his peripheral vision, Fabian saw someone approach the table. He turned, his mouth already forming the beginning of his apologetic dismissal, when he saw who it was.

  “Ryan.”

  “Hey. Good. You’re here.”

  Fabian blinked, dumbfounded. “So are you.” God, he looked incredible. “You cut your hair.”

  “Yeah.” Ryan ran a hand over it nervously. “I fixed myself up a bit.”

  “Oh.” Fabian knew he should say something more, but his brain was frozen. His gaze ran a circuit from Ryan’s stylish new haircut and trimmed beard, down to the open collar of his shirt, and then to the fabric that was pulled tight across his chest and arms. Below that there was the denim that struggled to contain Ryan’s enormous thighs. Fabian had never seen such tight jeans on him before, and he was sort of mesmerized by the bulge of his package.

  When his gaze made its way back to Ryan’s face, he could see how much Ryan appreciated Fabian’s outfit as well.

  “I didn’t think you were coming,” Fabian said finally.

  “What?”

  He leaned in, and Ryan bent down until his ear met Fabian’s lips. “I didn’t think you were coming.”

  “Oh.” He stood back up. “I changed my mind.”

  Fabian smiled, unable to conceal his delight. He wanted to know what exactly had changed Ryan’s mind, but it was too loud in the club to have that conversation. And besides, there were better things they could be doing right now. “Would you like to dance?”

  Ryan grinned back at him and nodded. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

  Fabian took Ryan’s hand, then turned and led him to the dance floor. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so giddy in his life.

  The floor was packed, and Ryan was a substantial size, so they stayed close to one side instead of trying to push to the middle. Fabian also wasn’t sure how comfortable Ryan was with people pressing against him. When he found a reasonably spacious spot on the floor, he turned and gave Ryan a reassuring smile.

  Ryan smiled back, but he still looked unsure of what to do next. Fabian figured he would be the one leading this dance, so he let his body find the rhythm of the pounding Robyn remix. Ryan tried to move with him, and he was definitely awkward. His eyes darted around, as if searching for people judging him.

  Fabian reached up and placed a hand on the side of his face, directing his gaze back down. It was too loud to talk, so he just pointed to his own face. Focus on me.

  Ryan gave a slight nod, and Fabian let his hand slide off his cheek, down the side of his neck, and onto his chest. It finally landed on Ryan’s hip, and Fabian stepped closer until the buckle of Ryan’s belt bumped against Fabian’s ribs. When he was sure he had Ryan’s full attention, Fabian closed his eyes and let himself go.

  Dancing had always come naturally to him. Music spoke to him so clearly, and his body knew exactly how to respond. He rolled his hips seductively and lifted his free arm over his head, letting his fingers play with the music. Ryan was stiff against him, so Fabian stepped back a bit to give him a better view.

  When he opened his eyes again, Ryan had a wide, delighted smile on his face. He wasn’t dancing exactly, but his body was moving a bit. Fabian put a hand on Ryan’s neck and pulled him down so Fabian could speak in his ear.

  “Are you laughing at me?”

  Ryan shook his head, then tilted it so he could reply. “No. I just love watching you dance.”

  His breath tickled Fabian’s ear when he spoke, and tingles shot through Fabian’s body. He draped one arm lazily over Ryan’s shoulder, and returned his other hand to Ryan’s hip. Ryan was going to dance with him, dammit.

  By the middle of the next song, Ryan had finally loosened up enough to follow the movement of Fabian’s hips as they dipped and grinded. Fabian was trying not to actively hump him, but it was a challenge because his tree trunk thighs were right there and the buttons of his shirt looked like they might pop open at any second.

  Inspired by the thought, Fabian trailed a finger up to the top fastened button and deftly opened it. He glanced at Ryan’s face to get his reaction. His lips were parted, possibly in shock, but his eyes were pure desire. He gave a barely perceptible nod, and Fabian opened the next button. Then the next.

  He was wearing a black tank top underneath his shirt, which Fabian wasn’t surprised by, but he was a tad disappointed. The undershirt did nothing to disguise the fact that Ryan was built. His pecs were huge and defined, and even through the fabric Fabian could see there was a considerable amount of chest hair coating them.

  Ryan’s giant hands grasped Fabian around his rib cage, holding him in place until he’d opened every button. When he’d finished, Fabian wrapped his arms around Ryan’s shoulders and pushed down on Ryan’s open shirt until the sleeves slipped off his shoulders and pinned his arms to his sides.

  Fabian leaned in and pressed his mouth—open and wet and hungry—against Ryan’s left pec. He realized, after he had left a damp spot on Ryan’s shirt, that this might be a bit forward.

  Ryan didn’t seem to mind. He was watching Fabian with an intensity that made Fabian want to get on his knees in the middle of this crowd. The bulge in Ryan’s jeans had grown significantly, and was nudging Fabian’s stomach every time Ryan moved his hips in his direction.

  Fabian locked eyes with him, trying to match Ryan’s intensity. Then he leaned in again and pressed another openmouthed kiss to the distinct peak of Ryan’s left nipple.

  Ryan’s head fell back, and his thumb brushed over the piercing in Fabian’s nipple. Fabian sucked in a breath, and gently bit Ryan’s chest. It had almost no give under his teeth.

  Fabian wanted to see a whole lot more of this ridiculous body, but for now they could just have some fun. As if reading his mind, the DJ transitioned into a remix of Beyoncé’s “Get Me Bodied.” Fabian jumped up and down in excitement, which made Ryan laugh. He removed his button-up shirt completely, balling it up in his fist as he finally let go and started really dancing.

  He was good at it. Fabian shouldn’t have been surprised—Ryan was an athlete, after all—but it was wonderful to watch. His eyes sparkled with unabashed joy as he watched Fabian dip and twirl in ridiculous, over-the-top moves that were designed to amuse him.

  When Ryan lip-synced the opening lines of the chorus, complete with an exaggerated motion of wiping sweat from his brow with his discarded shirt during the A little sweat ain’t never hurt nobody line, Fabian shrieked with laughter. Ryan beamed back at him, and Fabian wanted him so badly in that moment.

  An arm draped across Fabian from behind, and a familiar voice said, “You guys look hot together.”

  Fabian twisted his head to find Marcus’s face right next to his. He grinned and kissed Marcus’s cheek. “Where’s Tarek?”

  “Some lovely gentlemen are buying him birthday shots.”

  “Uh-oh.”

  “Mm. Vanessa and I found a table over there.” Marcus pointed to a table with actual chairs near the high-top Fabian had been standing at. “Come find us, if you’re not too busy.” He left with a blatant leer at Ryan.

  Fabian and Ryan stayed on the dance floor for another couple of songs, and then Fabian tugged him toward Vanessa and Marcus’s table. As soon as Vanessa spotted Ryan, she clasped her hands over her mouth.

  “You remember Ryan,” Fabian said casually when they sat in the two remaining seats.

  “Oh my god! You look so good! And you’re here! I thought you were at another party.”

  “I l
eft,” Ryan said simply.

  “Good choice.”

  “Is my makeup sweating off my face?” Fabian asked. “It’s probably a mess, right?”

  Marcus shook his head. “You look flawless as always. Stop fishing.”

  “You do look good,” Ryan confirmed. He was wearing that adorable shy smile that Fabian loved. Fabian was glad he was wearing makeup because he was sure he was blushing.

  “You guys are so fucking cute,” Vanessa said. “Oh! Here’s the birthday boy!”

  Tarek strolled over, and even from a distance Fabian could tell that he was quite tipsy. His tight T-shirt was bunched up under his ribs, exposing his stomach, his hair looked like it had been thoroughly disheveled by someone, and Fabian tried to remember if Tarek had been wearing his glasses earlier. He hoped not because they were gone now.

  “Heyyyyy,” Tarek drawled when he reached them. He slumped over the back of Marcus’s chair, letting his arms fall around his shoulders. “Being thirty is awesome.”

  “Hell yeah it is,” Vanessa said.

  “Oh hey, it’s that guy,” Tarek said, nodding toward Ryan. “Are you guys together now?”

  Fabian made a face that tried to silently say Shut the fuck up you sloppy idiot, but it didn’t seem to work because Tarek just kept talking.

  “I’m so happy for you guys. Fabian is, like, obsessed with you. What’s your name again?”

  “Uh, Ryan.”

  “Ryan. Right. Good for you, man.”

  Oh god. This was a disaster. Fabian leaned toward Ryan. “I’m so sorry about him.”

  Ryan waved it away. “It’s fine. He’s drunk.” He covered his mouth with the back of his hand and yawned. “It must be late,” he said, blinking.

  “Mm.”

  “I could, um, walk you home. If you’re leaving soon?”

  “You could,” Fabian agreed. “Or...”