14. TATE #3
Kazimir nods along. “You’re right, Coach. I’m not worried he’ll take us out, but I prefer not to have problems. What do I need to do to make the problem go away?”
Now, why couldn’t Patrick have been more like Kazimir? Kazimir likes to make deals. I can appreciate that level of darkness in a person. “You’re making it sound like you have a problem. Should I be concerned?”
“You can fuck off with that bullshit, VanCourt. I know a snake when I see one.”
“Look, Kaz—can I call you, Kaz?” I don’t wait for an answer. His eyes narrow, so I’m gonna go with he doesn’t like that. Don’t really give a fuck. “Great. I’m willing to work with you, but what I report to the commissioner depends on what I see.”
“So, then you’re going to make a problem for me.”
“I’m going to write a report with my suggestions. The safety of our players is of utmost importance.” He can’t argue player safety.
He’s still sizing me up, his suspicious brain going into overdrive. He’s the opposite of Patrick, and I can’t help but like that.
“What if you were the coach of my hockey team?”
“Wouldn’t that be a little difficult with the position already filled?”
He shrugs. “He can be demoted. He does what I tell him to do.”
“Gee, can’t wait to work for you.”
“I’d make you a good deal. You have something I want.”
“A good report.”
“Yes. Make my problem go away, Coach, and you can be a king at my school.”
“If I’m a king, what are you?”
Kazimir walks out from behind his desk. “I’m fucking God.”
I stand up, patting him on the shoulder in a way that definitely makes him want to kill me. “Sorry, Kaz. I don’t believe in God. Now, are we done here? I have hockey players to interview so I can write a report for the commissioner.”
Should I piss him off? No. But it’s so easy.
“You shouldn’t fuck with me, Coach.”
You know? I’m starting to think “Coach” is an insult. “Wow, turning on me so soon? Here I thought you wanted to be friends—offers of kingship one minute, threats the next. I’m gonna get whiplash.”
Uncle Jasper always said I was a lippy shithead. Maybe it’s true.
“Get the fuck out and don’t come back here, VanCourt.”
Guess I’m not welcome anymore, but that’s not up to him in this case. I may need to return for several repeat audits to make sure my recommendations are implemented.
“Have a good day, friend.” Maybe I’m his Patrick. I can’t tell. But I think I really like the guy.
I’m led to the ice rink, where an office that’s ten times nicer than mine at Shadowridge sits at the back.
This is what Coach Bruce gets? Hmm. I always wondered why Uncle Jasper didn’t station me as a coach here.
Shadowridge is nice, but this is luxury.
He wouldn’t have wanted me to be too comfortable.
It’s bathed in expensive mahogany, the shelves, the desk, even the window frames.
He’s been given a tall, leather rolling chair with a headrest and lumbar support.
The walls are decorated with his achievements.
The wait is excruciating. I pass the time, a good twenty minutes, snooping through Bruce’s things, back turned from the door I’ve left slightly ajar.
It creaks, but I don’t turn, listening for the footsteps.
Ryan has his own cadence—well, everyone does, but I’m only concerned with Ryan’s.
I want to—need to—hear it. Feel him without sight.
Another creak, the door shutting, and footsteps in his careful rhythm approach.
It’s him. I know it’s him. That sense of knowing him by something as visceral as sound ignites in my gut.
I turn so quickly he jumps, and I’m on him like a wildcat, pushing him against the wall.
I grab his face, securing it in my palm, using it like a leash.
“Omph!” He exhales as I force his back against the door. I reach behind him to lock it, lock him in here with me. Maybe I’ll just take him away with me now. No one will find him where I put him. He’s all mine, after all, why shouldn’t I?
He won’t like it, an annoying voice answers. When did I start caring about shit like that? Seriously? I’m not supposed to care. I wish I didn’t but turns out, I do.
Fine. I won’t abduct him and chain him in my underground lair today.
I make no promises about tomorrow.
Taking a deep inhale, I pick up scents of metallic copper and dirt, and then I finally look him over, taking stock.
Making sure my property is in the same condition I left him.
He’s not. There’s blood smeared on his face, slick sweat mixed with mud.
Leaning in, tuning my ears, I catch what I’ve been craving.
His strong heartbeat. It’s jackrabbiting, but his breathing doesn’t match it, slow and controlled. That’s a learned response.
“You’re scared,” I purr.
“Yeah, dude. You’re kinda terrifying right now. D-Did something happen?”
I answer with my lips, attaching them to his neck. God, I love the taste of his sweat. Salty, strong, with that undeniable flavor of man. I want to suck on his collarbone, but his fucking clothes are in the way. I growl at them, yanking on the buttons.
Ryan laughs. “Cammies. This is what we wear for drills. Lemme help.”
But I bat his hand away—I’ll do it—pulling my head back to see what I’m doing. He’s head to toe in camouflage. Jacket and pants are cut from the same rough fabric, the pants tucked into black leather boots.
“This is hot,” I say, flicking the buttons open, giving myself the access I need. But now that I’ve revealed his skin, I’m mesmerized by it, until I see the bruises, even with all those tattoos to camouflage them. A snarl rips free. “What the fuck is all this?”
“Uh, the usual …? Between hockey and drills, I’m pretty beat up, Tate. You’ve seen my body.”
“I have, but these are new.”
“They’ve been kicking our asses in drills the past couple of days.”
“Which means you need some time off,” I say as I feast on the collarbone I was looking for. Mm-hmm. Yes. He’s fucking delicious. Everything’s better now. That fucked up feeling? Gone. We don’t know her. I think there’s a line in a Taylor Swift song about this.
I turn his head; he gasps, panting. That’s a fucking note to remember.
Despite his fear, he’s aroused. Or maybe, because of it.
Meanwhile, my mind spins, planning. Now I have a good reason to abduct him—to keep him safe from all this abuse.
I’ll make it so cozy for him. All his favorite foods.
I’ll keep him so high on sex, he’ll never miss the real world.
He laughs again, and the sound soothes something sharp that was digging into the dark hallways of my mind. “I would miss the real world, you asshole.”
“Did I say that part out loud? Those were supposed to be my inside thoughts.”
“Your actual desires, you mean. And yeah, it was mumbled between growls, but I’m becoming adept at reading your predatory body language.”
That turns me on even more for some reason, and a jolt of terrifyingly hot arousal rips through me.
I might combust. Until that happens, I maul his lips, sucking the bottom one in.
Our mouths slide together, catching, breaking, crashing together again.
It’s messy. Relentless. He responds with just as much wanton need, inhaling my breath as if it’s what he’s been craving all his life.
I drag my tongue along the seam of Ryan’s mouth, demanding entrance, and when he does, I get rougher.
More pressure, rhythm wild. Claiming. Making it clear he’s all mine.
It almost hurts when I rip my mouth from his, but I have to. Have to search out his heartbeat. I push his open camo jacket aside and put my head there.
Thump. Thump. Thum-thump. The controlled rise and fall of his chest with that edge of restraint, as if it wants to run away from him, but he won’t let it. Ah. Tranquility.
There’s a squeeze around my shoulders. Shit. Didn’t even notice him putting his arms around me. I don’t complain. With him it’s okay. I might even need his touches.
“Tate?” he whispers. “Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong? I’m doing my best not to flip out, but you like this is scarier than the you that wants me locked away with Pearl.”
I want to ease his fears, but where do I begin? Do I tell him what made me this way? That’s territory I’ve never entered. But it’s the only thing that’ll explain my temporary insanity.
Let’s go with door number no answer. I suck on his slutty collarbone instead.
“Ooookay, then,” he says. A hesitant hand touches my head.
When I don’t react, his fingers dare to drag through.
Hmmm. Don’t hate that. Do I love it? Maybe.
Most likely because it’s him. Ryan’s becoming my exception to every rule.
It’s decided—only he can touch me like this. Only he can touch me at all.
Does he know how extraordinary that is?
I’d forgotten what this feels like. To be touched without that fucking angry static erupting underneath my skin. Without my body threatening to glitch. I take a slow breath.
With great reluctance, I pull back. Ryan should be where he belongs, riding my cock, but we’re on borrowed time as it is.
There’s a knock on the door. “Coach VanCourt? This is Major Carter, Cadet R. Savage’s TAC officer. May I come in?”
Ryan pales, hastily doing up the buttons of his jacket. I run a hand through my hair as we step back. Ryan’s boots click together as he snaps to formal attention.
Gotta say, I’m really digging the military vibe. He’s bringing this uniform the next time I fuck him. Maybe I’ll make him pretend he’s the misbehaved cadet, and I’m the officer sent to reprimand him with my cock.