Page 35

Leo

“Please, I’ll play better,” Caleb says from his knees, batting his eyelashes with his hand hovering over my open pants. He should be dressing for the game, but he cornered me in an empty office in the Vegas arena.

“Hear me out.” He grins and kisses the fabric over my raging hard-on. “You’re like a legend with goalie superpowers.” He ignores my scoff. “And I’ll be ingesting your powers and combining them with mine.” Caleb runs his tongue along the band of my briefs.

“You have two minutes.” I glance at my watch, and he wordlessly pulls out my cock and takes me to the back of his throat and swallows.

It’s glorious. It’s not as if I would say no to a New Year’s Eve blow job from my Baby Doll.

My hands cup the side of his head, but I let him set the pace.

He’s learned my body and knows how to take me from being aroused to on the precipice in seconds.

His moan vibrates in my balls, and I force myself to stay silent. In the week after Christmas, he spent every night in my bed. I love seeing him first thing in the morning. He’s bright sunshine and cozy warmth wrapped up in a lethal body.

“I love your mouth. You’re such a Good Boy.” My praise heats his skin, and he doubles his efforts. I won’t be able to hold out much longer before I tell him I love him. It’s a fight to resist saying it every moment we’re together. But he’s not ready to hear it and I won’t scare him.

“Caleb,” I murmur his name as he worships my cock and I come down his throat.

He swallows every drop and licks his lips. “If you check your watch, I’ll bet it was less than two minutes, and you’ll see… I’m going to play better than you’ve ever imagined.” He zips me up and pats my crotch. I’m useless at the moment.

When he turns to go, I grab his wrist. “Can we spend midnight together?” He’s the only one I’ve ever felt the need to kiss at midnight.

“There’s no place I’d rather be. I’ll figure it out.” He slips out the door, and I sag against it. Some idiot thought a New Year’s Eve game in Vegas was a good idea. The team might go overboard tonight. I shouldn’t have asked him to come to me. He should enjoy the night out with the guys.

After I check myself to ensure I’m presentable, I enter the hallway and run into Ari Dimon. “Hey. At some point, I’d like to get on your schedule for a conversation.”

“No time like the present. Walk with me.” Ari strides toward the elevator, and I assume he’s on the way to his suite.

“This needs to be a private conversation,” I hedge as we enter the elevator.

“Will it take long?” he asks.

“I guess that depends on your reaction.”

Ari hits the stop button on the elevator, and it jolts.

“I thought people only did that in the movies.” Ari’s not amused, so I press on.

“I won’t waste your time, so right to the point.

I’m sleeping with Benz. I talked to him about stepping down, but he would like me to stay.

If you’re okay with that, I’d like to be taken off the payroll and listed as a volunteer coach. ” I plead my case calmly.

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “When I told you to fix it, this is not what I had in mind.”

A laugh leaks out. “Sir, it’s not what I intended either. Ideally, I would tell Mason first, but Caleb isn’t ready for that.” He’s younger than I am, but calling him sir shows my deference.

He laces his fingers and eyes me shrewdly. “Then why tell me?”

“I respect you and want to be up front. These things have a way of coming out at the worst time, and you should be aware. Caleb’s young, and I’m protective, hoping to shield him as much as possible when the media discovers our relationship.”

“And you’re committed?” he questions.

“If I have my way, this relationship will outlast his career.” My intentions are clear, and now he can decide how he will handle the information.

Ari restarts the elevator. “Thank you for your candor. I will accommodate your request…for now. If things change, I will act in the best interest of my team and my player.”

“I respect that.” I let out a breath.

He shakes his head and pins me with his gaze. “I thought maybe you changed your hair to seem more approachable, but I suspect it’s Benz’s influence. Some days, I wonder if I’m running a hockey team or a goddamn dating service.”

The elevator dings, sliding open, and I bow with a grin. “I thank you for your service, sir.” He gets out with a chuckle, and I ride it back down to the team.

I may have created a monster. Caleb has saved every shot on goal. Our defense has broken down so many times they need resuscitation. We’re winning 2-0, and Caleb is the reason. Vegas has outshot us 12-6 in the first period.

“Benz is the only one on the ice who doesn’t have his head up his ass,” Coach bellows between periods, and it echoes off the lockers. He launches into how the defenders can help Caleb and play to keep the puck on the offensive side.

Caleb catches my eye and mouths, “Superpowers.”

When we’re in the tunnel heading to the ice, I walk alongside Caleb. “You’re playing great. I’m so proud of you.”

He preens and flushes a little. My man is so adorable.

Vegas comes out swinging. They read our weakness on defense and exploit it on every play. Caleb’s reflexes are lightning fast.

Vegas’s center skates right at Caleb, fakes to the left wing, and smacks a no-look pass to the right wing, who fires low at a perfect angle just out of Caleb’s reach.

But Caleb launches himself at the puck and gets his glove on it to deflect it to Ace’s waiting stick. Our bench is on their feet screaming.

Ace clears the puck and races down the ice.

Lucky and Drake dodge defenders and pass back and forth until Ace gets in position, but he hits the pipes.

Vegas smashes Lucky into the boards and steals the puck.

Drake retaliates with a clean check and wins the puck back.

He shoots from the outside, but the Vegas goalie saves it.

I’ve watched tens of thousands of hours of tape, and Caleb outmatches any goalie I’ve ever seen. The game is still 2-0 when the horn ends the second period.

In the locker room, Caleb’s twerking like he hasn’t been performing acrobatics in the goal. “Be the puck. Visualize it soaring into the net.” He slaps Drake on the back.

I’m prepared for Drake to take offense, but he salutes Caleb and yells, “Next person who scores gets drinks on me all night.”

“Dad, you’re grinning. Are you okay?” Mason nudges me.

I tip my chin. “Your roommate is a character.”

“He’s one of a kind.”

“He certainly is.” It’s hard to remain stoic when I’m bursting with pride and triumph for him.

The third period is full of penalties. It’s not a surprise. But one high stick came dangerously close to Caleb’s neck. That isn’t an accident. The pace gets faster, and half the game is played against the boards.

Mason has a breakaway, but their defender catches his skate and sends him to the ice. I’m screaming at the ref and receive a warning. Mason’s fine and tells me to chill out when he gets back from his shift.

Everyone fights as if it were game seven in the playoffs. With three minutes left, Vegas takes a chance and pulls their goalie. Our defenders remember how to play hockey and take the pressure off Caleb.

Mason takes another shot on goal, but it’s saved by a defenseman.

Everyone is worn out, and we play keep away to wind down the clock.

Vegas intercepts a pass and shoots from the outside.

Caleb keeps it on his stick and circles the goal in the penalty zone.

As soon as Vegas enters the trapezoid area, he glides out to the right.

He’s vulnerable outside of the penalty zone, and an attackman closes in on him.

His defenders move out of the way, and Caleb slaps the puck forcefully down center ice.

The puck flies in the air and lands past the center circle. It has so much momentum it keeps going toward the open goal.

The entire arena is on their feet.

Our bench is screaming.

Caleb is frozen with his stick stretched out in front of him.

Vegas won’t get there in time.

I hold my breath, and the puck slides into the empty goal.

Caleb sinks to his knees.

The team piles on top of him.

Caleb scored a goalie goal. There are only about twenty recorded in the NHL. This is monumental. My heart soars as the crowd blows the roof off the arena.

I’m dying to get on the ice with him, but the game isn’t over. There’s still twenty-three seconds left.

Coach calls a timeout. “The game’s won because you fought hard. Now go get Benz a shutout. He deserves it. So for the next half a minute, you’re going to play like you’re losing and keep the puck the fuck away from our goal. Enforcers on three.”

Ace counts, and the shout of “Enforcers” bounces up to the rafters and back on the ice.

Drake wins the face-off, and every man on the ice plays their hardest for Caleb, and he gets the shutout and a goalie goal.

I hug Mason and vault over the wall to get to Caleb. He’s surrounded, but my hands find him and pull him into a hug. “You made history tonight.”

“I’ll need my superpower before every game,” he says in my ear and picks me up off the ice.

“You scared me when you skated out from the penalty zone,” I confess, and I squeeze his shoulders as he sets me back on my feet.

“Do you know what this means?” Lucky spins like a figure skater in a tight circle. “Benzy’s drinks are on Drake. Happy New Year!” The team whoops.

“Go out with the guys. I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say in a low voice when I get a second with Caleb.

“I’ll miss you,” he mutters. “Thanks, Coach.” He points finger guns at me and walks backward down the hall.

“No trips to the emergency room,” I yell to the group of them. “But have fun.”

“Yes, Dad,” someone who isn’t my son or Caleb jokes.

I have dinner and a couple of drinks with the coaching staff but decide to watch the ball drop from my room. If I can’t be with Caleb, I’d rather not be in a room full of people.

Baby Doll: Meet me at the Peacock Lounge

Me: Now?

Baby Doll: Please

Me: On my way

I google the Peacock Lounge, and thankfully, it’s in the hotel next door. The air is crisp but not cold. You can tell the people who have experienced a snowy winter versus people who think this is freezing at forty degrees.

The lounge is packed, and I have to talk my way into a VIP area. I spot Lucky dancing on a table with Drake, ready to catch him. Surprisingly, Ace is up there with him. Ace doesn’t have the rhythm required for the dance, but he’s not letting that stop him.

“Coach!” Gray yells in my ear. “It’s almost midnight. Find your guy to kiss.” His breath smells like alcohol and cinnamon.

“I’m passing through and thought I’d say hi.” I scan the tables for Caleb.

“Dad.” Mason stumbles over and spills his drink. “Have a shot with me.”

My son never asks me to celebrate, so I agree.

“No, over here.” He points to a table with their bottle service. At least we won’t have to fight for space at the bar.

That’s when I see Caleb, face down on the table. “Is he okay?” I ask.

Mason hands me a shot. I’m not sure if he didn’t hear me or is too drunk to answer.

“Cheers.” I clink his shot glass, purposefully spilling half the contents. A total dad move, but he’s drunk and I’m worried about Caleb. We down our shots and I shake Caleb. “Benz.”

“He’s napping,” Ace yells, and then he steps over to Caleb’s table and squats down to shake his shoulders. “Benzy, it’s time to wake up,” he sings.

“Caleb,” I command, and his head snaps up.

“We won.” He hefts off the table and slides sideways.

“I’m going to take him to his room,” I announce. “Great game. Happy New Year.”

The team cheers, “Benz, Benz, Benz,” as I steady him to walk out.

He weaves through the crowd, knocking into people, and I apologize, saying, “Excuse us, sorry,” on a loop. The fresh air never felt so good when we get outside.

“It took you long enough, Lovie. I thought you weren’t going to make it.” Caleb stands straight, fixes his clothes, and strides toward our hotel. “C’mon. Hurry up,” he calls back.

“Are you sober?” I ask when I catch up.

“Nope. But not drunk either. The plants behind our booth are going to die. It’s the sacrifice I made for you.” He winks and rushes to an open elevator, holding the door for me.

“You devil.” I can’t wait to get him upstairs.