Chapter 13
Tanner
“Seriously, Lou, what the hell is that thing?”
I stare at the glass tank in the corner of Louis’s living room. Inside, a scaly, prehistoric-looking creature is basking under a heat lamp, looking entirely unbothered by the chaos of the eight giant hockey players currently crammed into Louis’s living room.
Louis is sprawled on the couch, his arm in a sling. We’re leaving early tomorrow for a two-game road trip, but Lou won’t be joining us this trip since his surgeon wants him to wait a full week post-surgery.
“That’s Cookie,” Louis says, a grin splitting his face. “He’s a bearded dragon.”
“You have a lizard? Named Cookie?” My eyebrows shoot up. I take a closer look at the tank. “And why does it have—wait, is it wearing a costume?”
Charlie erupts in laughter from the kitchen, where he’s raiding the fridge. “Oh mate, you haven’t seen anything yet. Show him the harness, Lou!”
“The what?” I can’t keep the bewilderment out of my voice.
Louis shifts on the couch, wincing a little as he reaches for a brightly colored bundle on the shelf with his good hand. “He’s not wearing a costume, Sinc. It’s not Halloween,” he says reproachfully, like I’m the one who’s suddenly started acting like a crazy person. “The wings go with his leash.”
He holds up the leash, and sure enough, there’s another pair of tiny wings attached. They flutter cheerfully, like they’re excited to be included.
“His harness clips to this so we can go for walks when it’s warm enough,” Louis explains proudly, like a dad showing off. “He loves the attention.”
“You walk a lizard,” I repeat, my voice flat. “On a leash.”
“Best wingman ever,” Kevin calls from the floor, where he’s currently destroying Casey at FIFA. “You should see all the girls who stop to pet him.”
Olivier bounces over from the window. “Can we take him out? I’ve never seen a real dragon up close,” he says eagerly.
“He’s not an actual dragon, Gags,” Ethan says with a grin. “Though he does look pretty prehistoric.”
Louis carefully lifts the weird creature out of its tank with his good hand. He brings it up to his chest with a gentleness that makes my heart do a weird flip, and the strange animal snuggles right into him.
“He’s so calm,” Olivier says, tentatively touching its spiky back with his index finger. “In Québec, my grand-mère, she had chickens, but nothing like this.”
“Beardies are actually great pets,” Lou explains like a zookeeper giving a tour. “They’re super low-maintenance, so they’re great if you travel a lot. I’d love a dog or a cat, but it wouldn’t be fair since I travel so much.”
“May I hold him?” Ollie asks politely, and Lou’s face lights up.
“Of course!” He gently hands Cookie to Ollie, explaining how to hold him and let him snuggle close for warmth.
“Tanner? You next?” Ollie asks after a few minutes.
“Oh, no, I’m good, thanks,” I say quickly, taking a step back.
Jamie snorts. “It’s okay, Sinc. He won’t bite. Lou’s trained him well.”
“I haven’t trained him to do anything except eat crickets and look cute.” Louis grins. “Dragons are just naturally awesome.”
“I still think I’ll pass,” I say.
Louis winks at me as he puts Cookie back in his tank. “You’ll be in love with this little guy before the end of the season. I guarantee it. Happens to everyone.”
“Somehow, I doubt that,” I say drily, but Louis just laughs warmly, the sound settling in chest.
“We’ll see, Rookie.” He still looks tired.
The dark circles under his eyes seem to have taken up permanent residence there, and he’s moving stiffly.
But even at half strength, Louis is always the center of gravity everyone else revolves around.
He commands attention naturally and thrives on it.
I’m having a hard time looking away from him.
“Well, guys, we should probably head,” Rylan says, checking his phone. “Early flight tomorrow.”
The mood in the room dips. A brief flash of disappointment flickers across Lou’s face before he covers it up with his usual easy smile.
“You’ll do great tomorrow,” he tells us. “Crowd gets loud in Dallas, but don’t let ’em get in your head.”
The guys start gathering their things. Kevin gives Louis a careful hug. “Go kick some Texas ass for me.”
I hang back near the door as everyone files out. I don’t want to leave. The thought of getting on that plane and flying away from him feels wrong.
“That dragon thing is still weird,” I say when it’s just the two of us.
“You’ll come around,” he smirks. “Everyone does.”
I nod, my hand tightening on the doorknob. “So I guess I’ll see you when we get back.”
“Yeah. See you.”
He looks at his hands. I look at the floor. The silence stretches between us, thick and awkward. We’re both waiting for the other person to make a move, because I don’t think either of us knows what the rules are anymore.
I finally force myself to turn. I need to get home. I need to pack.
“Hey, Sinc?”
I spin back toward him so fast I almost trip. “Yeah?”
Louis is looking at me, chewing on his bottom lip nervously.
“I was thinking.” He gestures vaguely toward the TV, which is currently off. “Did you want to go over some tape on the Mustangs’ power play? Might be helpful?” He’s rambling a little, and it’s one of the most endearing things I’ve ever seen.
He’s looking at me with a mix of hope and uncertainty, and I feel like I must have the exact same expression on my face.
“Yeah. I think that would be really helpful,” I say with a smile, letting go of the doorknob.
The door clicks shut as I step back inside, and the atmosphere changes instantly. The noisy, playful energy of our teammates is gone, replaced by a thick, electric tension that makes the hair on my arms stand up.
I follow him back into the living room, where he sits on the couch. I should sit in the armchair to keep a safe distance between us, but I don’t. I sit right beside him, so close that our legs touch. He’s wearing basketball shorts, and the heat from his skin seems to sear right through my jeans.
“So,” I say, keeping my voice low. “Want me to grab the remote?”
He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “So, I, uh, might’ve told a little white lie.” He grins sheepishly, giving me a little side-eye. “I didn’t download the video.”
“Good,” I say, returning his grin. “Because I’ve already watched it.”
“Oh. Good. That’s good.”
My heart is hammering against my ribs. This whole situation is reckless—and I’m never reckless. But I want this—I want him—too much to fight it.
“I, uh, didn’t want you to leave,” Louis says, the confession tumbling out.
“I didn’t want to go.”
I reach out, my fingers grazing the skin of his neck above his sling. His pulse jumps under my touch.
He makes a low noise in his throat, his eyes darkening with desire. Fuck it. I lean in, capturing his mouth with mine.
It’s slow and gentle at first, like we’re both testing the waters. Our mouths move against each other, exploring, until Louis lets out a groan. The sound goes straight to my already hard cock, and I deepen the kiss, my tongue sweeping into his mouth.
The kiss turns messy and desperate. He grabs the front of my shirt with his good hand, pulling me closer.
“Careful,” I murmur against his mouth, pulling back just an inch. “Your shoulder—I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Fuck my shoulder,” he pants. “Touch me.”
I don’t need to be told twice. I shift so I’m straddling his lap, my knees on either side of his hips. I’m careful not to put weight on his chest, keeping my body upright, but the friction of his hard cock rubbing against mine through the fabric of our clothes makes my head spin.
“Is this okay?” I ask, searching his eyes for any sign of pain.
“More than okay.”
He reaches up and slides his hand under the back of my shirt. The rough skin of his palm against my back makes me shudder.
“I’ve been wanting to do this since you walked in the door,” he admits.
“Just since then? I’ve been thinking about it since Edmonton.”
He grins, a flash of white teeth that makes my stomach flip, and then we’re kissing again. I grind down onto him, loving how hard he is for me through his jeans.
“Bedroom?” I gasp, breaking the kiss to nibble at his jaw.
He shakes his head. “It’s too far,” he says. “I want you right here.”
I nod before sliding down so that I’m kneeling on the floor between his knees while he sits on the couch. I hook my fingers into the waistband of his shorts, and he lifts his hips as much as he can as I slide them off. “Be careful,” I admonish gently. “Don’t hurt yourself.”
He chuckles. “I’m almost a whole week post-op. Getting stronger every day.” He pumps his eyebrows at me. “Who knows what I’ll be capable of by next week.”
I snort, because that’s such a Louis Tremblay thing to say. But then I wrap my hand around his hot, hard length, and he gasps, shivering under my touch. “God damn, why does it feel so good when you touch me?”
“Mmm.” I give him a smug smile. “Because you might be the King of the Crease, but between the two of us, I’m the expert in stick handling.”
He looks at me in surprise before letting out a loud bark of laughter that quickly turns into another groan as I tighten my grip on his shaft and swipe at the bead of precome that’s gathered on his tip with my thumb.
When I let go of him to raise my hand to my mouth and lick it off, I let out a groan of my own.
“Jesus, you pick now to start making jokes?” he grits out, his breath hitching again as I tighten my grip around him. “Tanner,” he breathes. “Please.”
I stroke him, slow and steady, watching his face.
It’s a heady feeling—seeing the man I’ve idolized for years come undone under my touch.
I slide my other hand underneath him, pulling on his balls gently, and he hisses.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” he rasps. “You need to get naked. I want to see you,” he whispers, opening his eyes and meeting my gaze.