Undone by You

by Kate Meader

  Thought he’d give it a shot? That was the first time Cade had been out out in public, and he’d done it with Dante as his goal?

  “If you wanted to talk to me, then why not make an appointment during office hours?”

  “That would have gotten us off on the wrong foot: employee and boss. I didn’t just want to tell my GM. I wanted to tell Dante Moretti, the hottest guy on the planet, on neutral turf, and then . . . well, blow his mind.”

  Which he did, and more. Dante saw it now. How brave Cade was to risk putting himself out there. At Cade’s age, Dante would never have dreamed of approaching someone he knew and admired to display his soft underbelly.

  Cade had said he wasn’t looking for more than mutual pleasure, yet Dante couldn’t help but feel responsible for the younger man, and just a touch irritated to be placed in such a position. Something else also struck him. If that club experience was Cade’s first time being publicly gay, what other firsts could be laid at Dante’s door?

  “Cade, last night, when we had sex—”

  “When we fucked each other’s brains out, you mean.”

  With a wave of his hand in fake dismissal, Dante smiled. “Yes, yes, you were amazing. But was there anything about that experience that might have been new to you?”

  Cade had this look on his face, like a cute-as-fuck puppy who’d crapped all over the rug and was now giving a who me? tilt of his head.

  “Cade . . .”

  “Was it that obvious I wasn’t an ass sexpert?”

  “No, not at all. But I’m getting the impression you’re checking off a list. Any particular reason why you’ve held off until now?” And why you wanted me to be your first?

  “It’s always seemed like, I don’t know, the final frontier.”

  “The final frontier?” Dante could feel a laugh bubbling in his chest and he couldn’t resist. “Cade Burnett’s ass. The final frontier. These are the voyages of the Starship Moretti—”

  Cade pounced, pinning him back on the sofa. “Shut it.”

  “To boldly go—” Cade tried a kiss to shut him up, but Dante moved his lips away. “Where no cock has gone before.”

  “Stop making fun of my incredibly vulnerable moment, dude!”

  But he was laughing as he said it and Dante guessed he enjoyed the levity after the sofa confessions. A possessive pride flooded Dante’s chest. He was the first to own this guy’s ass, and damn, that made him feel like a god.

  “Shit, you talk a good game, Burnett. You’ve been coming at me hard, like this is your usual, and yet underneath that cocky exterior is”—he stroked his jaw—“is what exactly?”

  “It’s all pretty cocky, Dante,” Cade said with a wry smile. “Look, I wanted the first time to be with a guy who knows what he’s doing. Someone I trust. This doesn’t make us chained for life, y’know. Ass virgin and deflowerer.”

  “Don’t you mean frontiersman?” Dante kissed him to soothe the little jab, and soon they were lip-locked in a battle for deep and wet and so damn sexy. Before things got out of control, he drew back. “You should have told me. I could have hurt you.”

  “And have you freak out? Nuh-uh. I’ll admit that for a moment I did question why any guy would ever want to do this, but about five seconds in, it turned so sweet I wondered why I’d waited so long. Borchia, it was perfect.”

  Cristo, it was. This is. Still, despite Cade’s protestations to the contrary, Dante couldn’t help feeling that his defenseman might have more skin in the game than was good for either of them. Dante’s job meant anything more with Cade was a nonstarter, and even if they could get over that hump—an impossible if—Dante knew that a relationship with a man who wouldn’t admit who he was would never work.

  Good thing this wasn’t a relationship. Still, it probably wouldn’t hurt to redraw the parameters.

  “You asked if I knew anyone at Boston who was gay?”

  Cade nodded slowly.

  “I did, but not in hockey. A guy in a different sport—a different pro sport. He and I were in a relationship for a while—he wouldn’t go public and I never expected him to—but still, I got tired of being on the down low. Coming out was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, and people said I was a fool to do it before I’d achieved everything I wanted: top of the hockey food chain. Manager of a team. But it got to the point where lying to myself was worse.”

  Cade opened his mouth.

  “I’m not talking about you, Cade. This is about me. My journey. I can’t make that decision for you.” He curled his palm around that soft skin at the back of Cade’s neck and touched forehead to forehead. “Everyone’s mileage will vary. Maybe you’ll go your whole career and keep it to yourself. Maybe you’ll have an epiphany one day and realize out is what you need. Only you will know what’s best for you, your career, and your mental health. I’m here to talk, to listen, to be your shoulder.” But Dante was done with guys who couldn’t make the leap. He understood them but they were no longer relationship material. Cade needed to understand this as well.

  “What happened with you and this guy?”

  “I realized that respecting myself was more important than having someone to cuddle up with on the sofa.”

  “Christ, Moretti, have you already got the cannoli boxed and ready to go?”

  Dante laughed. What an asshole he’d been, but Cade was too good-natured to let it bother him. Either that, or he had the best head fake in the business.

  “Right now you’re what I need, and I think maybe I’m what you need. Sofa cuddling can be included as long we both recognize that this isn’t anything more than making each other feel good. Even if the fact I’m your boss wasn’t an insurmountable hurdle, neither of us is looking for a relationship.”

  But Dante would be eventually. He liked being in a relationship. He liked having someone to think about, to cook for, to wrap himself up in. But for now he’d stave off his loneliness with a hot, hunky hockey player.

  He leaned back and rolled his arm along the top of the sofa. “C’mere, polpetto.”

  Cade levered back, his shoulder notching into a spot below Dante’s chin. Dante coasted his lips against the Texan’s ear, drawing a pleasurable shiver. So it wasn’t only sex, but they couldn’t go at it like rabbits every second of every day, could they? It seemed silly not to touch each other and seek comfort with their clothes on.

  Dante settled his forearm over Cade’s chest. The guy fit so right, and Dante couldn’t help inhaling the scent of his hair and brushing light lip grazes along the shell of his ear.

  “Thought you wanted to watch the game.” Cade’s voice sounded rusty.

  “We’re talented guys. No reason we can’t do both.”

  Cade drew lazy circles on Dante’s arm and released a gentle sigh of contentment. Weird how a weighted conversation about the lack of a future could have relaxed them both.

  “How long were you with that guy in Boston?”

  “Two years, off and on.” Two years of furtive meetings and cloak-and-dagger fucking. Exciting at first, considering the risks, but ultimately unsatisfying—and surprisingly lonely.

  “You broke up with him?”

  “I got a chance at this job, and the relationship had been dying slowly anyway. I wouldn’t push him to go public, and ultimately we were at an impasse. It started to eat away at us, so I guess I broke up with him.”

  Cade turned and looked him square in the eye. “If he’d have come out, would you still be together?”

  Probably not. He and Jeff didn’t really fit all that well. “I don’t know. I’ve only ever wanted two things in my life: to play pro hockey, and when that part of my life ended, to become a general manager. This business we’re in requires us to be mobile, so there was always a good chance we’d have been separated by our careers anyway. Maybe if we’d been stronger together, we could have made it work. But we weren’t, so we’ll never know.”

  Cade held Dante’s gaze, unerringly. What was going on in that sharp mind of his? He looked like he
wanted to share, but then he changed his mind and turned back to resting against Dante.

  Bullet dodged. Perhaps.

  ELEVEN

  Cade backed up on the rink in the Dallas practice facility, his eyes fixed to the puck in the other half. St. James flicked it left to Petrov, who tried a feint Cade saw coming a mile away. Dispossession came one second later.

  Coach Calhoun yelled out, “Petrov, you Russian asshole, Burnett ain’t that good!”

  Cade shot back, “Oh yes, I am!” Which set the team off into laughter, even Petrov, who had been pretty sullen about any digs to his skills as he recovered from injury. But Cade had a sneaking suspicion he was sleeping with his coach—aka Isobel Chase, one-third owner of the Rebels—which was keeping the Russian in a good mood.

  Sex made everything better.

  Now that didn’t take long, did it? All he wanted to do was redirect his greedy gaze toward the stands where Dante was sitting in the third row, chatting with Harper. He didn’t usually attend practice skates back home, but when they were on the road, he liked to check in. He’d even eat with the team, which put more pressure on Cade not to stare at that sexy mouth downing all those carbs.

  Today the man looked particularly hot in a navy suit and a gray tie with navy blue dots on it. The prick would wear it all day, knowing that it turned Cade on and that he’d love nothing more than a shot at ripping that tie off and tearing open the crisp white shirt beneath it.

  What he wouldn’t do to be able to sneak into Dante’s room during one of these away games, but they both knew there was too much on the line to risk it. So Cade had to content himself with furtive looks and inappropriate boners. Not so nice when you were sporting a cup, either!

  Caught off guard, he felt the breath leave his body as it was slammed against the Plexi, and a grin, set off by a pair of aristocratic Russki cheekbones, got right up in his face.

  “So easily distracted, Alamo. Remember, Harper is Remy’s woman.”

  And Remy was welcome to her.

  “Like I said, Burnett, you ain’t that good!” Coach called out again.

  This set the crew off once more, so Jorgenson had to shout to be heard. “Cade, you have a visitor.”

  Cade shoved Petrov aside and looked toward the tunnel to find his dad standing near the rink entrance, his hand raised in greeting. Three hours early, he’d driven in from San Antonio to attend tonight’s game. Cade swallowed around the lump in his throat and skated over.

  “Dad! I wasn’t expecting you until later.” He hugged him hard. He hadn’t seen him since the holidays, though they checked in weekly on FaceTime.

  “Figured I’d get an early start. Pretty smooth drive up.”

  A slight, feminine cough sounded behind them. Harper stood there, still tiny in skyscraper heels, with a raised eyebrow and a flirtatious smile.

  “Why, Tucker Burnett, you’re looking so handsome I might have to steal you away for lunch.”

  His dad kissed Harper on the cheek. “Lookin’ mighty fine yourself, Harper, though I hear you’re off the market now. Damn shame.”

  “You had your chance, Tex.”

  Cade’s gaze flew to Dante, who stood behind Harper. His dad and his . . . whatever in the same space. Not weird at all. “Dad, you haven’t met Dante Moretti yet. He’s the Rebels’ new GM.”

  “Mr. Burnett, good to meet you.” Dante held out his hand. “How’d your team do this year?”

  His dad’s face lit up as he shook Dante’s hand. Nothing got a man on Tucker Burnett’s good side quicker than a query about how his college boys at UT were doing.

  “Seven and six. Not terrible. We have a quarterback who I know is going to be somethin’ for the fall.” He jerked a thumb at Cade. “Like this guy could have been if he’d kept at it.”

  “Sorry, Tucker,” Harper cut in. “I refuse to hear you speak a word against my top D-man. He’s one of the reasons we’re doing so well this season.”

  “Damn, Harper,” Cade said. “There I was thinkin’ I was the only reason.”

  “You know I have to keep my man feeling confident, Alamo.” She gave a furtive look around, checking that Remy was still on the other side of the rink. “But just between us four, honey, you’re holding the team together.”

  Everyone laughed, no one harder than Cade’s dad.

  “Dad, the team’s about to head for lunch, so maybe we could meet up after—”

  “No reason why your father can’t join us,” Dante said. “That’s if you don’t have other plans, Mr. Burnett.”

  Hanging with a bunch of pro athletes talking workout routines, college ball, and why those ingrate Raiders wouldn’t move their NFL franchise to San Antonio? Like his dad would say no to that.

  “I never turn down a free meal. And please, call me Tucker.”

  All through lunch, Cade worked overtime ensuring his eyes were on their best behavior. And really, the fact that Dante was three spots down was a blessing, even if Cade’s ears pricked up every time he heard his dad talk to the Rebels’ GM.

  So his dad wasn’t a total homophobe. He didn’t downright hate the LGBTQ community and actually thought Anderson Cooper was a good interviewer. But he was the product of a culture that revered traditional gender roles. Texan men of his generation played ball, grilled steak, and married the first pretty little thang who took their fancy. They did not skate, eat anything with artichokes on it, or enjoy taking it where the sun don’t shine. Growing up a Burnett, Cade had heard his dad make cracks about gay guys, throwaway comments that would freeze the edges around Cade’s heart and put him on notice.

  But maybe he had underestimated his father’s tolerance for difference all these years, because Tucker and Dante were getting along like world peace might break out any minute. Was it possible that his dad just needed to talk with someone like Dante to recognize he was a regular guy with flesh and blood and feelings?

  From the snatches of conversation Cade heard, they talked high school ball, the best barbecue joints in Austin, the Astros’ chances this year, and even bass fishing, which somehow Dante knew all about. Upon his momma’s death when Cade was twelve, Cade and Tucker had become thicker than two fleas on a farm dog, and some of Cade’s best memories were of fishing trips down to the gulf with his dad. When he had to make the decision to focus on either hockey or ball, his dad had teased him—still did—about Cade abandoning the family business. But really he was proud. Right through junior league, NCAA, and all the way to being the third pick his year in the draft, he was proud.

  Would his mom have been as proud? Doubtful. She’d known his dick pointed toward boys and had been less than happy about it. Not just unhappy but ashamed, and the memory of her reaction had shamed Cade. Compelled him to push that part of himself deep. But she’d never shared her concerns with Tucker, and Cade would never risk the fracture of their father-son bond. Not when the only family they had was each other.

  After lunch, while Tucker was talking the ears off Harper and Remy—though likely, the Cajun was giving as good as he got—Cade sidled up to the Rebels’ GM. “Just so you know, this is really fuckin’ weird.”

  Dante turned, a smile on the lips Cade wanted to spend all night kissing. “I like your dad. He’s a good guy.”

  “Yeah, he is. And he seems to think you’re the best thing to happen to the Lone Star State since Earl Campbell was drafted by the Oilers.”

  “He’s crazy proud of you, Cade. I know—” He checked his speech.

  “You know what?”

  “I know that right now, living with the ache seems easier than inflicting a short, sharp blow to someone you love,” Dante said, his voice low. “But there’ll come a time when that ache is all you feel. When you won’t know where you begin and the pain ends.”

  Since he’d figured out who he was, Cade had felt that ache every day, but with Dante, it faded to practically nothing. Cade watched his dad joking with Remy and Harper, thinking about how Dante had a point. For the first time in forever, something like h
ope was blooming in his chest.

  His dad returned. “Harper just invited me to the owners’ box. Pretty fancy, huh?”

  “Now you can scalp the ticket I got you, old man.”

  “You hear that?” Tucker nudged Dante conspiratorially. “Less of the old, ya kicker.”

  Dante thrust out his hand. “It was great meeting you, Tucker. I’ll see you for the game tonight.”

  Watching Dante walk away, his dad shook his head, almost in wonder. “Good guy, there.”

  “You sound surprised.”

  “Just not what I expected.”

  Cade’s heart thudded like a rabbit was running sprints in his chest. Was there a chance here? Had Dante Moretti’s sheer cool opened up a path to Cade’s truth?

  His dad was still staring at Dante, but then he turned to Cade. “Bet you’re glad he’s not hanging out in the showers with you, though.”

  Boom! There was the Tucker Burnett Cade knew and loved. Sure, Dante was a good guy—considering he was a raging homosexual.

  Anger boiled Cade’s blood. That’s my guy you’re making a snide comment about. He’s not the punch line of a joke. He’s not any less of a human being because his sexual preferences don’t pass your man test.

  I’m not any less of a human being . . .

  “That’s a pretty old-fashioned attitude, Dad,” Cade said through gritted teeth. “Dante’s really well respected around here.”

  Tucker’s brows slammed together. “No offense meant, son. I know you were a fan when he was a player back in the day.”

  And now, Cade was a fan of the man. But apparently not enough to set his father straight. He wondered if he’d ever be brave enough to stand up for Dante—and for himself.

  TWELVE

  “Green and black olives, Burnett?” Dante shook his head in pity. “What kind of a freak are you?”

  “A freak who likes olives on my pizza. And I told you to stay out of the kitchen, sickie. I’ve got this.”

  From his vantage point near the kitchen entrance, Dante managed a slight grin, and predictably, Cade’s heart did back flips. They had been secretly seeing each other for a couple of weeks, every minute of which had been amazing. But tonight was another test: Dante had succumbed to the flu—or the “Petrov contagion,” as he called it—that was doing the rounds on the team. The only players who’d escaped were Cade, who was pretty much impervious to every illness known to man, and Petrov, whose sister had been Patient Zero, a fact that Dante was alternately annoyed with and grateful for. Disease-carrier Petrov wasn’t suffering (boo!), yet his good health meant he was also playing lights-out hockey (yay!).