Chapter 18
DANNY
Pretending Noah means nothing to me is the hardest thing I've ever done. Harder than playing through a torn rotator cuff.
Tuesday morning practice is torture.
I’m on the ice running drills while Noah stands at the boards talking to one of the assistant coaches. He’s in a suit…dark blue today…looking polished, put-together, and completely untouchable.
I want to skate over there, pull him into the tunnel, and kiss him until he melts into me like he remembers every second of what happened on Saturday night.
Instead, I focus on the drill. I pass to Carter, wait for him to pass it back, then I shoot on Tate. Rinse and repeat.
“Masterson! Focus!” Coach yells.
Shit. I missed that last pass completely. Carter looks at me.
“Are you awake or what?”
“Sorry.” I shrug. “My bad.”
We run it again. This time I don’t look at Noah.
After practice, I’m in the locker room pulling off my gear when my phone buzzes. I grab it and stab the notification on my screen.
Stop staring at me during practice.
I grin despite myself.
Wasn’t staring. Was admiring.
Same thing. And people notice.
Nobody noticed.
I noticed.
That’s different.
We need to be more careful.
I grip the phone, the urge to hurl it across the room grabbing hold.
Fuck this careful bullshit.
But I squeeze my eyes shut for a second and wait for the urge to settle. Then I type my response. Cool and collected.
I know. Doesn’t make it easier. So when can I see you?
I don’t know. Alex is still in town. We have to wait.
For how long?
I don’t know.
I grit my teeth, shove my phone in my bag, and finish changing. Around me, the guys are talking about our next road trip, where we’re getting food after practice, and other normal shit that doesn’t involve hiding a forbidden relationship from everyone they know.
“You good?” Tate asks, dropping onto the bench next to me.
“Yeah. Why?”
“You’ve been off the last few days. A little distracted.”
“Just tired.” I flash a half-grin. “It’s been a hell of a few weeks, you know.”
He nods. “You know you can talk to me if something’s going on, right?”
“Nothing’s going on.”
“Okay.” He doesn’t believe me. I can tell. But he doesn’t push. “We’re grabbing lunch at that place on Third if you want to come.”
“Nah. I’ve got some stuff to do.”
He looks at me like he wants to say something else but doesn’t. When he leaves, I drop onto the bench with a deep sigh, finally alone in the locker room and staring at my phone.
This is going to drive me insane. Being so close to Noah and not being able to touch him. Seeing him every day and having to pretend he’s just my PR director. Acting like Saturday night didn’t change everything.
My phone buzzes again.
My place. Tonight. 8 PM. Park a block away.
Relief floods me. Thank fuck.
I’ll be there.
And Danny?
Yeah?
Don’t let anyone see you leave your place.
At eight o’clock, I’m parked a block away from Noah’s house like some kind of criminal. I check the empty street three times before getting out of my truck. The neighborhood quiet. Most people are already inside for the night.
I walk to Noah’s house, keeping my head down, hands in my pockets. When I knock, the door opens immediately.
Noah pulls me inside, locks the door, and kisses me before I can say anything.
“Hi,” I say when we break apart.
“Hi.” He’s still in his work clothes, but his tie’s gone and his shirt’s undone at the collar. So fucking sexy. “Sorry for all the cloak and dagger shit.”
“Eh. It’s worth it.”
I follow him into the living room, and we sit on the couch. Not touching, just sitting together, almost like we’re on display in front of the rest of the organization, maintaining that professional distance Noah is so obsessed with.
“How was your day?” I ask.
“Exhausting. Yours?”
“Same. Coach called me out for missing a pass.”
“I saw that. You were staring at me.”
“I was not staring.”
“You absolutely were.” He sighs and leans back. “It’s dangerous.”
“Everything about this is dangerous.”
“I know.” He reaches for my hand, lacing his fingers with mine. “But I missed you.”
I swallow hard, my dick already straining against my pants. “Yeah. I missed you too.”
“I asked you over here tonight because I needed to see you. But there’s something I have to tell you. Alex came to my office yesterday,” Noah says.
“What did he want?”
“He’s staying in Oakland, working on his story about you.” Noah’s jaw tightens. “He’s watching, asking questions. I don’t know how much he suspects or what he thinks he’s looking for, but he’s not leaving anytime soon.”
“So what do we do?”
“We need to make sure we don’t give him anything to dig into.” Noah stares at me, his dark eyes serious. “That means no staring during practice. No hanging around after team meetings. No texting unless it’s about work.”
“Sounds fucking miserable.”
“I know but it’s necessary.”
I push back my hair and lean back. “I know. Doesn’t make it less miserable.”
Noah doesn’t respond. Instead, he moves toward me and brings a hand to the back of my neck, kneading his fingers. And fuck, when he grabs a fistful of my hair, my cock jerks, aching to be released from the confines of my pants.
He presses his lips against mine, attacking me with the kind of desperation I’ve felt since getting his text earlier today.
I snake my arm around him, palming his ass as he plunders my mouth.
He grinds against me, his cock hard against me.
He yanks open the button on my pants and with one hand, pushes them down so that my cock is exposed.
When he grasps me, I think I might just come from the way his hand feels wrapped tight around me.
“My God,” I groan. “That feels so fucking good.”
I tug open his pants, tugging them over the globes of his ass. Then I wrap my hand around his dick as he pumps my cock with long, hard strokes.
“I need to taste you,” I mutter against his mouth.
“So you want me to stop touching you?” he rasps as he teases my slit with his thumb, precum dripping from the tip.
“Fuck no. But we have all night. So take me to your bedroom. Now.”
He grins and pulls me off the couch. We strip off the rest of our clothes and he pulls me into the bedroom, his hand on my dick the whole way there. I drop to my knees, stroking the top of his taut thighs. I bring my lips to his cock and take him into my mouth.
I swallow him whole, letting him hit the back of my throat. He fists my hair, thrusting his hips against my mouth, jerking hard when the first drops of precum hit the back of my throat.
“Fuck, I want you inside of me,” he gasps, his fingers tangled in my hair, his body shaking from the aftershocks.
I stand up and push him onto the mattress. He leans over and opens the drawer of the nightstand next to his bed then tosses a condom and a bottle of lube onto the mattress.
He stares up at me, his eyes glowing with lust and need. “Get down here and kiss me.”
I roll on the condom and coat my fingers and cock with lube before leaning forward to capture his lips.
Noah’s hands are in a complete frenzy as they work over my body.
My muscles tense and tighten at his demanding touch.
I slide against his smooth chest, our cocks rubbing together with a delicious friction.
I bring my fingers to his tight hole, skimming the outside before pushing one finger inside of him. His ass clenches around my finger, squeezing it tight, pulling it deeper. He thrusts against my hand. “More.”
I add another finger, stretching him. Fuck, yeah.
I pump my fingers in and out, adding a third one to get him ready. He pulls away for a second, squirts more lube into his own hand and grabs both of our cocks, jerking them together.
“Fuck me, Danny.” His voice is choked with need.
I push his legs farther apart, hover over him where he lies on the bed, and thrust into his ass. His muscles clamp down around me, pulling me farther and farther inside of him. I grasp his leaking dick, sliding my hand up and down as I fuck his ass.
He lets out a sharp yell as his ass contracts, his muscles clenching tight, and I know I’ve hit his spot. “Yes, fucking yes. Harder.”
My hips jerk, an eruption building deep in my aching balls.
White flashes of light blast across my eyes despite the darkness around us.
I squeeze my lids shut, fucking him with long, hard strokes until the orgasm shatters me.
I spasm against Noah, my body shuddering from the tremors consuming me.
Thick, hot ropes of cum shoot across my chest as Noah’s dick twitches between us.
I collapse on the mattress next to him. “Wow.”
“Yeah,” he says. “That was even more amazing than the first time.”
We lie on his bed, tangled together, neither of us making any attempt to move. I know I never want to leave.
“This is harder than I thought it would be,” Noah says.
“What is?”
“This. Hiding. Pretending. Being with you but not being able to show it.”
“We’ll figure it out.”
“You sure about that? Because Alex isn’t going anywhere until he gets a story. And the longer this goes on, the more chances there are for someone to notice.”
“Then we’ll be more careful.”
“Danny—”
“Look, I’m not walking away from this. From you.” I prop myself up on one elbow. “So we have to hide for a while. So what? I’ve waited this long. I can wait longer if it means I get to keep you.”
He looks at me like I just said something that broke him a little.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing. Just...thank you.”
“For what?”
“For being patient with me. For understanding why this has to be secret. For not making me choose between you and my career.”
“You shouldn’t have to choose. That’s bullshit.”
“But I do have to choose. And the fact that you’re willing to make this work anyway...” He trails off. “It means a lot to me.”
I kiss him instead of responding, because I don’t know what to say to that.
Eventually, I leave. Park a block away, walk to his house in the dark, leave the same way. Like we’re teenagers sneaking around instead of two grown men trying to have a relationship.
But it’s worth it. Even with all the secrecy and hiding and risk.
It’s worth it.
Wednesday’s game against Chicago goes well. We win three to one, and I play pretty clean. One assist, zero penalties, exactly the kind of game that makes Noah’s job easier.
After a quick shower, I grab my bag and head for the parking garage.
That’s when I see him.
Alex Naylor, leaning against a concrete column near the exit, typing on his phone.
He looks up when he hears my footsteps. A smile spreads across his face.
“Hey, Masterson. Good game tonight.”
“Thanks.” I keep walking.
“Got a minute? I’m working on that profile piece and thought you might want to weigh in.”
“Not interested.”
“Come on. I just have a few questions. About the community service, the probation, how you’ve changed since Puck Fest.”
I stop. “I already told you. I’m not interested.”
“Why not? Most players jump at the chance for positive press.”
“I’m not most players.”
“No, you’re not. You’re the player who assaulted a fan and somehow came out looking like a hero.” He tilts his head. “I’m curious about how that happened, you know, who helped you craft that narrative.”
“Nobody helped me. I did the work myself.”
“Interesting. Because from where I’m standing, Noah Enver played a pretty significant role in your rehabilitation.” He holds my stare. “You two close?”
Every muscle in my body tenses. “He’s the PR director. That’s it.”
“Right. That’s it.” Alex folds his arms over his chest. “Just seems like a lot of one-on-one time for a standard probation situation.”
“Take it up with Bob Marshall. He’s the one who assigned Noah to manage it.”
“Maybe I will.” He pushes off the pillar. “Enjoy your night, Masterson.”
He walks away, and I stand there staring at his back.
Fuck. He’s fishing. Asking questions. Watching.
And if he’s noticed how much time Noah and I spend together, other people might have too.
I get in my truck and pull out my phone.
Alex just cornered me in the parking garage. Asked about us.
Noah responds before a few seconds passes.
Shit. What did you say?
That you’re my PR director. That Marshall assigned you. Nothing else.
Good. Don’t engage with him. Don’t give him anything.
I won’t. But he’s not going away. He knows something’s there.
He suspects. He doesn’t know.
What if he finds out?
I hold my breath, waiting for his answer.
We’ll deal with it.
You sure?
No. But I’m sure about you. That has to be enough.
I drive home, and the entire way I’m thinking about what Noah said.
I’m sure about you.
Not about us. Not about the situation. Not about how this ends.
Just about me.
And maybe that’s all we’ve got right now.