TWENTY-FOUR
Max
T he following Saturday I slog off to the annual fundraiser for Stamford Children’s Hospital. It brings out the full team every year. You’d think we would enjoy hanging out together. After nine months and eighty games, I can use a little time to myself.
Yet, a wicked craving hits me that I don’t want to be away from Luca. Even though he’s been distant since Kansas City. Maybe he’s still worried about his sister.
I dress in my tux—all the players wear one. Just like when we’re in our jerseys, I don’t think I stand out or look special until Luca’s jaw nearly hits the porcelain tiles when I step into the kitchen for a glass of water.
I almost mimic his response. He wears a suit to every game and sexy black trousers to practices. His suits are much nicer than mine, cut better, tailored better, and look more expensive. But this thing he’s wearing tonight fits him differently. It’s more severe, more dramatic.
It’s double-breasted, and the charcoal color matches his gray eyes. He’s dark and dangerous with a black tie and jet-black shirt. He doesn’t look like a bodyguard. He looks like a freaking model.
A model I kissed and came all over. Like a fucking amateur. God, what he must think of me. No wonder he pulled back.
But the way he looks in that suit, I can’t help but gush at him. “That’s...” I say, twisting the lid off the hydration tracker bottle. “Is that new? ”
“No.” He struts my way. “Nice tux... I took you for a rental guy.”
“Nope. We do this gala every year. Made sense to buy one. Plus, I go to a few other charity events in the summer.”
“Really?” He sounds surprised. “Where?”
“East Hampton. I have a house there. I live there in the off season. I grew up in Marine Harbor.” My throat goes tight.
It never mattered that I avoid my parents. But explaining that to a... To a lover, or someone I’m lusting after, will lead to confessing what happened to me.
My life has drilled down to one equation. No lovers, no confessions. Just secrets and railing strangers in the dark who mean nothing to me.
“Hey,” Luca says. “Where did you go just now? Your face turned... I can’t describe it.”
I watch my expressions on the ice. Now I have to control my emotions in my damn house? What if I opened up to Luca about what happened to me? I’ve met a lot of guys who were abused by male relatives, but they’re all straight. Or so they’ve let on.
At this point I’m just so tense, worrying I’ll lose everything. It’s naive to think it won’t matter. There are too many haters. It’s why Damien Carter hasn’t formally come out.
“Nowhere,” I say to answer him, and check my watch. “The limo should be here.”
“I’ll wait for you downstairs.” He heads for the door, and an ache settles in my chest.
“Why?”
He spins my way. “It’s a different company. I cleared the driver who is scheduled to pick you up. Need to make sure no one did a bait and switch.”
“I think you’re massively overestimating Richmond.”
“When people underestimate Belova, they die. Like I almost did.”
With the final playoff schedule not set yet, a chill runs through me. “What if the Crushers match up against them in the playoffs and we win, pushing them out? You said the threat is on the ice.”
Luca goes still. “Then it won’t matter.”
“It matters to me!” I taunt him.
“I assume they want you hurt for team position only.” He rubs his chin with soft brown coils of hair. “But it occurred to me, they might try to strike after for...”
“For?”
His eyes darken to a place I’ve not seen before. “Vengeance.”
I shake my head and step back. “I... I can’t live like that. I’ll talk to Coach and the GM. They have to get into a room with this Belova asshole. Or go to the league lawyers with that evidence you have connecting Richmond to the attack.”
Luca’s phone buzzes, and he ignores me. “Limo is here. Meet me downstairs in ten minutes.”
I check my watch and shake my head. “No. We’re already going to be late.”
Luca steps in my path as I head for the door. “You’ll make an entrance.”
Laughing, I say, “I thought you wanted me to lay low.”
His throat bobs in a rough swallow, and just when I think he’ll give in, he says, “Either your ass hits that lobby in ten minutes, not a second before, or we don’t go at all.”
I grip the water jug, tempted, wanting to empty the thing over his head. Make a run for it. Only, he’ll catch me and drag me back inside .
Then do what to me? And why is my cock suddenly swelling at the idea of him punishing me with his mouth?