The Hat Trick Box Set

by Samantha Wayland

A second finger slipped in next to the first and pumped deep. Fingertips brushed his prostate and he grunted at the rush of pleasure, jerking against Garrick’s hand. Another rush.

  “How’s that?” Garrick’s rough voice tickled over Rhian’s skin. Fingers spread and tugged against muscles that gave willingly to Garrick’s demands.

  Rhian tried to say “unbelievable”. Judging by Garrick’s rich chuckle, he didn’t quite achieve articulation.

  The third finger dragged a long, embarrassingly loud groan from his chest. His arms gave out and his chest hit the mattress. Every push of Garrick’s hand stretched him wide, thick knuckles bumping past tight muscles, fingertips grazing his prostrate.

  Garrick’s other hand rubbed along his back, soothing him.

  God, Rhian wanted Garrick to fuck the bejesus out of him, but Garrick didn’t rush. He rarely did. He knew how much Rhian enjoyed just this and as usual, he patiently coaxed as many reactions, as much emotion out of Rhian as he could.

  Gentle, generous. An exceptional lover. Add the fact that Rhian loved him with a strength and ferocity that often left him breathless, and his balls drew up tight to his body, his arched back bowing to the point of pain.

  Rhian wished he had words to tell Garrick how good it felt, never mind sufficient vocabulary to say the things in his heart, the sentiments he could barely put a name to, let alone speak.

  The slow drag of Garrick’s fingers from his body left him bereft, his mouth hanging open as he gulped in air. Cool lube flooded his ass as anticipation shook his limbs and stole his breath. Foil tore.

  Rhian took satisfaction in how Garrick’s hands trembled against his hips before grabbing hold. Any other time, his intimate knowledge of the sheer length and breadth of Garrick’s cock might have made him clench. Tonight, now, he knew that no other man would ever make him feel this. Could bring him to this point, hanging over the precipice, desperate for more. For all of it.

  The thick head of Garrick’s cock popped past the tight ring of muscles and Rhian hummed with pleasure. Perfect. Garrick’s fingers dug into his skin, anchoring them as he curled over Rhian’s back and his hips powered forward. He filled Rhian slowly, relentlessly, and whispered his dark words into Rhian’s ear as he stretched him open and sank deep.

  “Did you miss me?”

  Rhian felt blown wide open, every nerve on high alert.

  He opened his mouth, tried to communicate the rush of bliss and dark, unfettered desire, but failed utterly except for the escape of one little sound. Too guttural to be a whimper, too damn squeaky to be a manly grunt.

  He hated it when he made that stupid noise.

  Garrick rolled his hips back, then thrust forward, hard, and it ripped from his throat again.

  Garrick loved that sound. Eliciting whimpers from a big, tough guy like Rhian was hot, but sometimes Rhian made a noise so honest, so outside his control, it sent chills down Garrick’s spine.

  Joy and need all jammed into a single, tiny sob.

  His heart, already pounding, did a somersault in his chest. Rhian might be surprised every time Garrick showed up, flustered when he told him he loved him, and so fucking uncertain about how that love changed the physical connection between them. But always, in the end, they found themselves here, drowning in the truth.

  Garrick wrapped himself around Rhian’s torso, their faces pressed together. He let Rhian take his weight and curled an arm across his chest while he fisted Rhian’s cock in his other hand, spreading pre-come over soft skin and throbbing veins. Rhian’s ass danced against him, forcing him deeper.

  Garrick spread their knees wider. Sank deeper. He ground against the flex of muscles in Rhian’s glorious ass and thumped his prostate hard. More come leaked onto his fingers, easing the slide of his fist.

  Rhian was lost. He shoved himself up onto Garrick’s aching cock, head thrown back, eyes screwed shut. Garrick’s hips worked in tight circles, stretching Rhian wide.

  Rhian would feel it for days. Garrick wanted to leave that reminder. He hoped that for the time it took Rhian’s body to recover from Garrick’s lovemaking, he would continue to believe.

  Garrick buried his lips against Rhian’s ear. “I love you.”

  Rhian’s eyes popped open.

  Garrick could hide nothing from Rhian, and at moments like these, Rhian had no secrets from him. In the morning, when he left to go to Savannah, the uncertainty would return, but right now, there was no doubt. There was only this, and this was pure. Simple. It was uncomplicated, unadulterated love.

  He took the kiss he needed, thanking god he was a few inches taller than Rhian. He could keep up a steady, relentless plunge and retreat without having to pull his mouth away.

  Too soon, the powerful and electrifying sensations firing through his body and frying his nervous system stole his coordination.

  His hips thrust faster, harder, and Rhian surged up to meet him, his extraordinary strength nearly lifting Garrick’s knees from the bed. Garrick’s fist pumped Rhian’s shaft mercilessly.

  Rhian was never more striking than like this. No hesitation, no insecurity. He was completely in the moment.

  “Beautiful. God, you’re beautiful,” Garrick moaned. “I love you so fucking much.”

  Rhian’s mouth dropped open as he plunged into orgasm. He arched beneath Garrick, his shudders shaking them both as Rhian threw his head back and roared.

  He’d barely crested, the last blast of warmth filling Garrick’s palm, when Rhian sucked in a desperate breath and pressed his lips to Garrick’s ear.

  “I love you, too,” he panted. “God help me, I love you so much.”

  Joy swamped Garrick as he ground into Rhian’s tight, clenching heat and he fell over the edge. He clung to Rhian, to his words, and willfully ignored the ill-concealed agony in Rhian’s shaking voice.

  Chapter Five

  Two weeks later, Garrick sat in his office at the arena and stared at his Skype screen, willing Rhian to answer his call. Garrick had a ton of work to get through that day, but he couldn’t focus on any of it.

  A monster headache beat like a bass drum against his skull.

  Rhian didn’t answer.

  Garrick took more ibuprofen and tried again.

  Goddamn, he was tired and cranky. What had begun two days ago as an inconvenience, something easily explained by changing schedules and bad timing, was fast becoming cause for full-blown panic.

  For the first week he’d been back in New Brunswick after his whirlwind and way too short visit to Boston, he and Rhian had resumed their regular Skype and phone calls. The first few had been fantastic. Rhian had smiled and laughed, without the hesitation Garrick had previously blamed on the technology.

  Garrick had foolishly hoped he’d finally broken through to the stubborn man and convinced him that their relationship was for real.

  By his second week back in New Brunswick, the doubt had returned. Dropped eyes, half smiles, no laughs. On their last call, there hadn’t been so much as a chuckle, and Rhian had hung up quickly, claiming he wasn’t feeling well.

  Now Rhian wasn’t answering his calls or returning his voicemails. Nothing. Total radio silence. Garrick was ready to get on a goddamn plane. To hell with the Ice Cats and the endless meetings to prepare for the draft and the construction on the arena. He needed to know everything was okay in Boston.

  Fuck that, everything wasn’t okay in Boston. What he needed to know was why.

  Of course, there was someone he could go to for help, but the idea of asking Savannah to check up on Rhian made him ill. Not only was it way above and beyond what she should have to do, but the last thing he wanted was to give the impression that his issues with Rhian would spill over onto her.

  Fuck. This just kept getting more complicated.

  He hit END.

  Tilting his chair back, he ran his hands over his face and tried to shake the anger. There was no fucking way to kill his anxiety.

  He’d call Rhian and leave yet another voicemail, and he’d do
it without sounding pissed off. At this point, he didn’t want to do anything that might scare Rhian off—any more than he was already scared off.

  An incoming Skype call chimed and he sat up fast, hitting the ANSWER button before he registered it was Savannah, not Rhian. Now he really needed to pull his shit together.

  He slapped on a smile. “Hey there, beautiful!”

  Savannah cocked her head. “You okay?” She never missed anything.

  “Oh yeah, I’m fine. Just busy.”

  Her expression made it clear she didn’t believe him, but she let it go. They chatted about nothing in particular for a while. It took Garrick far too long to stop obsessing about his own shit and realize Savannah was working her way up to something.

  A band of tension squeezed his chest. They’d spoken last night, barely twelve hours ago, but a lot could happen.

  Jesus Christ, he hated being this far away from her.

  “Garrick, can I ask you something?”

  He braced himself. “Yeah, sure. What’s up?”

  “I know this is kind of weird, and really not my place, but I was wondering if there is anything going on with Rhian.”

  Dread settled like a lead weight in his gut. He kept his tone neutral. “I don’t know.”

  It was the truth as far as it went. He had no fucking idea what was going on. It wasn’t Savannah’s fault or problem that he wanted to wail those words at the ceiling.

  Savannah cocked her head and studied him. “You guys okay?”

  Garrick sighed. “I don’t know.”

  He didn’t elaborate. Maybe he should tell her about Rhian’s disappearance. Probably not. It was impossible to figure out the right level of communication. Over-sharing seemed as deadly a minefield as not telling her anything.

  “Oh boy,” Savannah said with a sigh. “Look, it’s not any of my business, but something isn’t right with him.”

  Garrick’s guts twisted into knots. “What do you mean?”

  “He’s playing well, as I’m sure you’ve seen. But he’s quiet. Really quiet. Quiet for Rhian, even. And he’s actively avoiding me, which I kind of understand, but until this week, he still came to see me for game prep and training stuff. He went out on the ice last night without getting any of his wraps, Garrick. And aside from that being stupid and a huge risk, if the coaching staff found out he’d been so careless, they’d freak.”

  “Shit, do you have to tell them?”

  She gave him the exasperated look that question deserved. It was hardly the issue. “I’m supposed to, but I won’t. I can only cover him for so long, though. If he gets hurt…”

  She’d be in trouble, too. Fuck.

  “This isn’t like him,” he said lamely, stating the obvious.

  “No, it isn’t,” she agreed. “Has he said anything to you? Why freak out about me now?”

  Garrick swallowed hard. “I don’t think it’s you. It’s me. He hasn’t spoken to me in days. I think he’s trying to end it.”

  Savannah’s jaw dropped. “What?”

  “I think I’m being dumped,” he whispered. He was losing control of his voice. His face. He pinched his leg beneath the desk. He was absolutely not allowed to cry all over Savannah about his boyfriend.

  But god, he wanted to talk to her. She understood how people worked so much better than he did.

  “Did you two fight about something?”

  He put his forehead on his desk and wrapped his hands around his aching skull.

  “No,” he admitted to the stack of paperwork under his face.

  “Has he said anything to you? Sent you an email?”

  “Nothing.” He spoke in a monotone. “Not a word.”

  “Oh, baby, this is killing you, isn’t it?”

  It was killing him. And not just Rhian’s disappearance. Being so far from Boston, the mountain of work he was shoveling through every day, trying to get on top of the pile so he could get the hell out of Moncton sooner.

  He nodded against the desk. He wanted to close his eyes and sleep right there, not waking up until all this shit was over.

  “Garrick, honey? Look at me.”

  Great, now he was stressing her out. He lifted his head and saw her face, close to the camera, as if she could lean in and lessen the five hundred miles that separated them.

  “I’m okay,” he said. They both knew he was lying. It wasn’t like Skype hid the bags under his eyes, or the red streaking through them. “Just really tired and worried sick.”

  “I’m sorry. How can I help?”

  He refused to ask her to find Rhian and kick his ass. “Maybe pick me up from the airport?”

  Her eyes widened. “I can’t. You can’t.”

  He grimaced. “I can get a flight today.”

  “Garrick, we leave in a couple hours for our last road trip. We’re on the road for the rest of the season.”

  “I’ll meet you in Tampa, then.”

  Savannah sat back. “And miss all your meetings? Don’t you break ground this week?”

  Yes. He hadn’t forgotten. It just didn’t matter as much.

  “Garrick, let’s be realistic. We’ve got less than a week left in the season, and you have to stay up north. I’ll find Rhian and figure out what’s going on. Tell him to call you.”

  “I can’t ask you to do that.”

  “You’re not. I’m offering. I’m not going to play matchmaker, but as his trainer, I have the right to read him the riot act for last night. And for today, since it’s the first time since he arrived in Boston that I haven’t seen him at the gym.”

  Garrick’s guts now had so many knots, they might be knitting a sweater. “Will you…do you mind telling me…” He couldn’t bring himself to ask.

  “I’ll tell you everything. I promise.”

  “Thank you. Thank you so much. I’m sorry about this. I didn’t mean…” He stopped before he fell into a full-on babble. She didn’t need him falling any further to pieces than he already was. “I love you. I can’t tell you what this means. It’s just…you’re fucking amazing, you know that?”

  She smiled. “I love you, too. Try not to worry. We’ll figure this out.”

  He nodded, promised to get some rest and she said goodbye, leaving him alone again. Far away from everyone who mattered.

  We’ll figure this out.

  His head throbbed and he rubbed his fingers against the tension in his temples. He’d actually believed this couldn’t get any more complicated. When would he learn?

  Savannah smiled sweetly at Craig Willette, the team enforcer, while she tried to stem the bleeding from his hairline. For a guy who made his living getting hit in the head, he was a remarkably sensitive and intelligent man.

  Too bad every word coming out his mouth tonight was making her want to spit nails.

  “Then Savage hit that guy so hard, I thought for sure he’d go down. Did you see that? Man, my teeth hurt just watching it. I didn’t know Rhian had it in him. He’s living up to his last name.”

  Savannah grunted. An undignified response, but the best she could manage.

  “Aren’t you friends with him from up north somewhere? I thought you two came from the same team or something.”

  “Yes, we were both with the Moncton Ice Cats before coming to Boston,” she said calmly through her gritted teeth.

  “Cool. He’s a good guy. Hell of a fighter. Hope to see him again next year.”

  It was good news that Rhian, who she had brought to the attention of the Bruins’ scouts, was winning over teammates and management alike. For that reason, if no other, she kept a smile plastered on her face and shut up.

  No one else needed to know she was going to hunt him down and rip him a new one as soon as she had a chance.

  Craig kept chatting away, as if the blood pouring down his face and into his eye was of little consequence, and Savannah kept working, her jaw locked and her smile in place. A few minutes ago, she’d sent Rhian back to the team doctor, not liking the way his eyes responded to her f
lashlight or that his jaw didn’t seem to be working properly. The other guy was in worse shape, but he’d landed some solid punches to Rhian’s lovely face before the officials had jumped in.

  In over a year of watching Rhian play professional hockey, she’d never seen him start a fight like that. What the fuck was the matter with him?

  She still had no idea, and neither did Garrick. She’d seen Rhian a few times since her call with Garrick last week. The first time she cornered him, he’d barely listened to her lecture about his responsibility to the team and himself. She’d made her points, but before she could bring up the personal shit, Rhian had called out to several of teammates, garnering them an audience and effectively shutting her down.

  Through all of it, he hadn’t made eye contact with her once. She’d sworn in a furious whisper, as the others approached, that if he went out on the ice again without seeing her, she’d blow the whistle. That part, at least, he must have heard. He’d dutifully shown up at the required times and places, always with at least two other players with him.

  The rest of the time, he was a fucking ghost. She’d looked for him on the flight, the bus to the hotel, even knocked on his hotel room door—at huge personal risk, as that would be viewed as pretty fucking inappropriate in the eyes of management. The jerk hadn’t answered, leaving her out in the hallway, banging on his door like a stood-up date.

  If anyone from the team had seen her, she might have kicked the damn door down and beat him over the head with it. She wasn’t usually given to violence, but for Rhian, she was willing to make an exception.

  And as if being ignored, avoided and dismissed weren’t bad enough, her calls with Garrick were the absolute worst. Each time she had nothing to report, Garrick got more distraught. And she got more steamed.

  She’d gone way the hell out on a fucking limb and not just accepted, but actually supported her boyfriend having a boyfriend, and the stupid fucker was throwing it all away without so much as a goodbye, let alone an explanation?

  Well, fuck him. She and Garrick deserved answers. If she had to spend her entire post-season week off running Rhian to ground, she’d damn well do it.