8. Tennant
EIGHT
Tennant
Management meeting. Fancy name for facing the GM and others in upper management and telling them you’re gay. As I stared at the door that separated me from the owner, GM, and who knew who else, the urge to throw up grew. Then someone touched the back of my hand. My gaze flew to the right.
Mads smiled at me. “I’ll be right at your side.”
Every atom in my body hummed. I wanted nothing more than to take his hand and hold it throughout this meeting. But we couldn’t do that, because rules…
“Thanks.” I caught sight of Connor jogging up to us.
“He’s the player union rep,” Mads quickly explained. “Connor, thanks for joining us. You know why we’re here?” he asked as he and Hurleigh shook hands.
“I have a pretty good idea.” Connor extended his hand. I slapped my palm over his. He didn’t elaborate.
“Thanks.”
I’d figured my secret wasn’t much of a secret anymore, but hearing that Connor had any idea of what it was made me even edgier.
Were all the guys talking about the queer on the team?
Judging me differently because we all know gay men are effeminate and couldn’t play hockey? Ugh. My gut was a full-blown mess now.
Mads patted me on the back. It wasn’t what I wanted—or needed—from him, but for now it was the most he could give me.
I threw back my shoulders and knocked. Might as well get it over with.
My suit felt hot, the dress shirt scratchy, my tie tight.
Some guy in a suit that cost way more than mine opened the door.
I walked into the board room. It was filled with older white men in suits.
The walls were covered with dark wood paneling.
The rich carpeting soaked up our footsteps.
A vase of flowers sat in the middle of an oval cherry wood table.
Fingers touched my lower back. I knew it was Mads without even looking. His touch did things to me…
The dude working the door closed it and sat back down. I spotted the owner seated way at the other end of the table. He was sipping ice water and staring at me. I cleared my throat.
“I’m Tennant Rowe.” I’m sure they know who you are, doofus. “And I’m gay.” Bet they knew that too. Yep. No one is surprised. You can go toss cookies now.
“Kudos for skipping all the rambling pretense and going right for the meat of the matter,” Mads whispered.
Connor stepped up and started talking for me. I glanced at Mads and saw all kinds of emotions in those stunning, sexy eyes of his.
Lots of talk took place, most of it incredibly PC and in support of me and any other LGBTQ players who might be on the team. I shook hands with every guy at the table. We talked hockey. Then Mads, Connor, and I were escorted to the door.
“They took that well,” Connor said as we walked to the closest elevator.
The upper levels of the barn were always hopping with staff and management.
“Of course, they really don’t have any choice.
It’s not like they can tell you to hit the road.
You have a contract. I don’t think being gay violates any morals clause.
If you need to contact me for any reason, though, you know where to find me.
I’ll be on the ice trying to keep a step ahead of you. ”
“Yeah,” I muttered, feeling kind of ashamed of how I was dogging the man. We shook, then Connor left me and Mads by a window that looked out at the parking lot surrounding the arena.
“Don’t feel badly for wanting to get his spot, Ten. That’s sports. He knew you’d be hounding him.”
“He’s an okay guy, though,” I argued weakly. My stomach was still gross.
“Yes, he is. And you’ve got the talent he wishes he had.” Mads rested a shoulder against the window frame. He looked tight in a dark blue suit that made the flecks of darker blue in his eyes pop.
I glanced up and down the lushly decorated hallway. “What about us?”
“Us is a nuclear detonation, Tennant.”
Ouch. “And you don’t want that kind of fallout in your life, right? You want to be all safe and sound hiding under your little metal desk.”
“Look, don’t think you know me so damn well after one kiss,” he ground out. “Do you have any idea what seeing you could do to my career?”
“No.”
“Neither do I, but I have to think it’s not going to be a promotion.”
I exhaled, then swallowed, hoping the churning acid in my stomach would cease and desist. Throwing up was not on the list of things I wanted to do in front of Mads. The parking lot was damn fascinating.
“Okay, I get it. I’ll step back.” God, that hurt way more than it should have considering that all we’d shared was one kiss. One incendiary kiss…
“I didn’t say I wanted that either.” My gaze flew from blacktop to Jared Madsen. “Christ, when you look at me like that, I want to…” He looked up at the ceiling and then back at me, “Well, I want to do things that we probably shouldn’t do in a hallway outside the owners’ suite.”
“Okay, right. I get it. So, uh, where are we? In terms of us?” Excitement bubbled up in my chest. Adding that sensation to the bubbling reflux was nice. Not.
“We’re going to see where we go.” He smiled gently at me. “And we are going to take this slow, Tennant.”
“Cool, good. I can do slow.”
He looked like he didn’t believe me.
Slow sucked. Seriously, it was the worst. Obviously my slow and Mads’ slow were worlds apart.
His slow consisted of nothing but touching here and there, long looks, and secret smiles.
My slow would have had us at least into some slippery-hot, ball-slapping sex.
I spent more time jacking off in the shower now than before he’d said we were going to see where we went.
If we didn’t get some physical shit going soon, I’d be in the padded room at the nearest mental hospital.
Maybe not getting laid—or even kissed—was good for my game, though.
Back in the day, the old coaches had thought so.
I was playing like a fucking demon, crushing anyone in my path, and sadly that included Connor, the good guy.
Nothing personal, but he stood between me and that first line center position.
I’d blasted his doors off during the preseason and now, with the last preseason game against Carolina under our belts, all that remained was for Benning to make his final cuts and decide on the starting line-up.
If that SOB didn’t put me on the first line, I’d—
“More balls.”
Stan’s deep voice jerked me harshly from my angry daydreams. There were ten of us gathered in my hotel room.
A late season tropical depression had blown into North Carolina.
Traveling had been called off until the swirling storm moved on overnight, so here the Railers sat, playing Pokémon Evolutions and dreaming about getting on the line they wanted or getting laid.
I downed another can of Mountain Dew Code Red.
It was my fourth. I felt like I could scale the walls like Spider-Man.
“Ten, you into this?” Addison inquired. He’d joined the training group last week and was kicking all sorts of ass. “You seem spacey.”
I tossed my training cards onto the table and stood up. “Too much Dew. I’m wired.”
The guys chuckled and play continued without me.
I paced the room like a puma in a cage. “I’m going to see if I can walk this off. Stan, you take my balls.”
“Groovy, man!” the big Russian said, then swept my cards from the table.
The laughter faded as I closed the door behind me. Starting that group had been a good idea. I’d grown much closer to several of the guys since we’d started playing. Pity we couldn’t lure any of the older players in.
I started off walking the hallway. That didn’t burn off the soda fast enough, so I jogged up and down the hotel corridor.
When I’d done four laps, I was slightly winded but still cranked.
I did what any man who was hard up and running on four cans of red Dew would do.
I rode up to the fourth floor, where the coaches were rooming, and pounded on the door of the hottest defensive coach in the eastern division.
Mads opened the door in nothing but dress slacks and an unbuttoned dress shirt. I’d at least changed into some jeans and my favorite Doctor Who “Bowties are Cool!” T-shirt after we’d gotten back to the hotel. Not that I was complaining, because he fucking rocked his half-dressed look.
“Hey, Tennant, what’s up?”
He looked shocked and more than a little guarded. Did I send off perv vibes or something? Was I drooling? Shit, he looked so good…
“I wanted to talk to you about… uh, about how the defense is playing in the neutral zone and its impact on the forwards.” There, that sounded official in case anyone might be eavesdropping.
He eyed me warily like I was something dangerous that had come rapping on his door. A lust demon or a succubus. Could dudes be succubi?
“Come in,” he said, then stepped back to allow me to enter.
His room looked just like mine. Basic hotel tan, blue, and white. It smelled of him. His cologne and his unique scent.
“I was just diagramming some plays for the defense. I’d be happy to have your input on them, since there seems to be a problem with—”
I pounced on him. Hungry and desperate, I lunged at him, clapping my hands to the sides of his head.
A sound of surprise escaped him before I covered his mouth with mine.
I felt him stiffen, like he was going to push me away.
Nope. We were not doing that shit now. I lapped at the seam of his mouth, then at the corners.
He opened for me and I dove in, starving now for the taste of him.
His mouth was wet and hot and tasted of coffee.
Mads grunted. The sound amped up my desire even more.
I suckled on his tongue until I got the reaction I wanted.
When I did—his arms going around my waist—I released his head and grabbed his ass.
Frantic for his touch, I rubbed against him, shoving my erection into his stomach.
The man groaned again in reply. I made a move to palm his dick.