Chapter 13 #2
“No, listen,” Bennett said into the phone, too hyped up on endorphins as he paced a path between the bed and the dresser in Sandro’s hotel room after dinner to bother correcting David about his name. “This is exactly what this series needs.”
“It can be part of it,” David said in his ear. “But the story is that they’re defending Stanley Cup champions.”
“No, that’s part of the story,” Bennett insisted, jabbing a finger into the air for emphasis even though David couldn’t see him.
Lounging on the bed, Sandro smirked and jabbed at the air.
Refusing to be amused, Bennett flipped him off, which only sent Sandro into a round of silent laughter.
“There’s no way we can talk about that without talking about the team culture,” he went on. “It’s the very foundation that this team is built on. It directs almost everything they do. There’s even a handbook.”
Sandro blew a raspberry.
“Or there will be,” Bennett amended, stretching the truth a tad.
He was technically supposed to be rooming with Fowler, but since Sandro got his own room whenever the team was on the road, Bennett had grabbed his bag from his shared room and snuck into Sandro’s.
It was a bit like sneaking into each other’s rooms during away games when they’d been in college, only made possible thanks to one of their roommates being willing to swap with him or Sandro.
Except instead of tiptoeing past rooms full of fellow players, Bennett was now sneaking past rooms full of Sandro’s fellow players.
He wasn’t sure what would happen if he got caught. Which only reminded him that he needed to tell David about his and Sandro’s relationship at some point since he was, technically, compromised.
Assuming this was a relationship and not a temporary while-in-Vermont type of thing. They still needed to talk about that.
Today was not the day he’d be telling David about it, though. He had other fish to fry.
“Look, Ben, I know you’re trying to make up for Chain of Command, but—”
Bennett pinched the bridge of his nose. “That’s not it.” Not entirely, at least. “I know you don’t trust me anymore, not after Command tanked—”
David coughed once. “The fuck are you on about? Bennett, if I didn’t trust you, you wouldn’t be doing this series.”
Lowering his arm, Bennett stared sightlessly at the curtains pulled over the window. “But . . . we have a contract.”
“Oh, you cute little muffin. There’s always a loophole.”
A what now? Well, shit. Bennett would need to get his lawyer to review the contract again.
“I do trust you,” David said. “I know it doesn’t seem like it sometimes, but those daily highlight videos you send me aren’t meant for me to keep an eye on what you’re doing—they’re so that I can steer you back on course if you start to stray, which is part of my job description.”
Bennett didn’t know if he should be relieved that David trusted him or annoyed that David thought he’d need to be steered back on course.
He could be both, right?
“Speaking of those videos,” Bennett said, allowing himself to veer off topic for a moment. “I can’t keep sending them, okay? Going through my own content plus the content of the camera operators takes hours out of my day, and that’s not even counting the editing to splice it all together.”
“Yeah, I figured you’d push back against them at some point. I’m surprised it took you this long, honestly.”
Jesus fucking Christ.
“Back to the story—”
“Ben—”
“David. Listen.” His focus momentarily drifted to Sandro, who’d risen from the bed.
He pulled his T-shirt off over his head, revealing all of those sinuous muscles, and unbuttoned his jeans, giving Bennett a peek at blue underwear.
“This is the angle we need to take,” Bennett said, somewhat hoarsely.
Sandro must’ve heard the shift in his voice because his gaze snapped up to Bennett’s, and he smiled as he slowly lowered his zipper.
Bennett swallowed thickly. “You might not believe me now, but once we conclude filming at the end of the season and we start editing, you’ll see.”
Sandro lowered the jeans to his thighs. Sat on the side of the bed. Slowly pulled one leg of his pants off, then the other.
“I still think we need to focus on them being defending champions.”
“Yes,” Bennett managed as Sandro’s underwear joined his jeans on the floor. “But it can’t be six episodes of that. It’ll get stale and boring real fast.”
Speaking of not stale and boring, Sandro propped an ankle over the opposite knee and pulled the sock off so vigorously that it snapped back and thwacked him in the chin.
He fell over onto the bed, laughing into the pillow, no doubt so his guffaws didn’t reach David.
Bennett had to mute the phone to hide his own wheezed laughter.
“Hello? Ben? Did I lose you?”
He unmuted the phone. “Sorry.” He cleared the laughter from his throat. “I’m still here, but it’s getting late and I’ve got an early morning tomorrow.”
And a man to fuck, but he left that part out.
“I’ll be moving forward with the legacy theme. I know you’re not fully on board—”
“Not fully, no,” David said. Then, sounding both reluctant and . . . proud? . . . he added, “But I look forward to you proving me wrong.”
He hung up on that final word, and Bennett stared at his phone for a moment before movement at the corner of his eye had him glancing toward Sandro.
He stood from the bed, beautifully naked, half hard, and with a combination of amusement and longing in his dark eyes that made Bennett swoon.
“You’re evil.”
Sandro pumped his eyebrows. “Evilly seductive?”
“You think you’re funny,” Bennett murmured, advancing on him.
“Oh, I know I’m funny.”
“Know what I think?”
Sandro raised a questioning eyebrow. Then he let out a little “oof” when Bennett shoved him backward onto the bed.
Bennett climbed over him. “I think you hate being ignored.”
“What I hate,” Sandro said, his questing fingers digging underneath Bennett’s shirt, “is sitting in a room with my teammates while you’re hovering nearby with your fancy camera, looking all sexy and competent and shit. I’ve wanted to devour you all night.”
It took a second for that to sink in since Bennett was busy trailing kisses along Sandro’s collarbone, but when it did, he braced himself on his palms and looked down at Sandro. “You . . . noticed me working tonight?”
Sandro’s brows pulled low, and he tilted his head inquisitively. “Was I not supposed to?”
No. He wasn’t. Bennett prided himself on being discreet. Inconspicuous. A fly on the wall that nobody paid attention to.
But this was Sandro. He’d always known when Bennett was nearby, his gaze tracking to him as soon as he entered a room. Just like Bennett had always had a sixth sense for Sandro’s whereabouts.
“Are you going to keep staring at me?” Sandro asked. “Or are you going to get naked?”
“I can do both, can’t I?”
Rising, Bennett began to undress, keeping his eyes glued to Sandro the entire time.
Propping one arm behind his head, Sandro grasped his erection with the other hand and began to stroke lazily, mischief in his smile. “It’s a lot funner down here.”
True.
Bennett pounced on him.