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Chapter one
“Davis.”
Fuck me.
My real name. I despise it. Very few, and I do mean very few, know it. But the use of it isn’t what freezes me in place. It isn’t what sets my pulse racing, flooding my cheeks with heat. It isn’t what has my heart threatening to pound out of my chest. Hearing my name didn’t elicit that uncontrollable reaction.
Nope.
It’s that voice.
That damn voice. Smooth, deep and in control.
My feet refuse to move. Turn to face him. Come on. I will myself to move, or at least try to. Shit. I’m not sure I can even do that. An all too familiar shiver races down my spine as the memory of him flashes through me. The feel of him. His power over me. Power I enjoyed. Power I have craved ever since. Years, Davis. It’s been more than enough years. You can do this. Turn the fuck around and behave like an adult.
“Carter,” I say. Trying to still my breathing, hoping like hell he can’t see it, won’t notice it.
I notice it. I can’t help but notice the effect he still has on me. And damn if he doesn’t look good. Great even. The years have not only been kind, they’ve also improved on something I never thought needed improving.
The glasses are different. Not the round tortoise shell rims of back in the day. Thick black rims now sitting atop that long thin nose. They only enhance his golden eyes, giving him that Clark Kent vibe. A light dusting of stubble lines his sharply angled jaw. A thin smile forms at the edge of his lips. God, those lips. Those firm lips I’ve once felt on my body. Those firm lips I denied myself years ago and dreamed of ever since. My tongue escapes my mouth and traces along my bottom lip before I can reel it back in. He smirks. He hasn’t missed it. Hasn’t missed me surveying his face.
Fucking gorgeous. Shit, I hope that wasn’t out loud.
No suit today. The last time I saw him, he had a dark suit on. And for a few moments that night, moments I can’t seem to forget, he was out of that suit.
Jeans, today. Faded, well-worn jeans. The slightest peek of a t-shirt visible around the collar of the midnight-blue sweater draped across his body. Everything about this version of Carter screams softness and peace. Even the look in those light brown eyes. As he is taking in the sight of me here, breathing the same air he is…Amusement? Is that amusement in those beautiful eyes? Do I see the faintest of smiles on those lips? Power over me. He still has it, and he can see it.
Levi’s eyes flick between the two of us. He arches a brow in curiosity, but thankfully says nothing. Carter carries on down the hallway as if seeing me for the first time in seven years is no big deal. But he was drunk when we were together. Maybe he doesn’t remember a thing. Maybe, highly likely, even. That thought sets fire to my gut. I’d love to not be able to remember that night.
That’s not true. It was amazing. The best damn fuck of my life. But when I can recall it as nothing more than a fuck, well, the fuck’s not the problem at all. It’s the damn conflicted feelings ingrained in that fuck that won’t let go. Won’t give me peace.
Yet here he is. In Denver. At the Grizzlies training facility. With Levi. Strolling down the hall like he belongs here.
Levi heads toward his office. I follow.
“What in the ever-loving fuck is Carter Hughes doing here?” I shout as I step into his office and slam the door behind me.
He drops a set of papers onto his desk and moves behind it, offering me no explanation.
I’m not Levi’s favorite person. I’m pretty sure he considers me someone he must tolerate, since I am damn good at my job. And I am close to both his wife AND his husband. They are my two best friends, in fact. Levi Holt is married to both of them. The Grizzlies’ former goalie-turned-goalie and special teams coach, swooped in here a few years ago in a mid-season trade. He won over the fans, stole our PR director’s heart…and, suffered what should have been a career-ending injury. Instead, he shattered a 17-year-old record, setting a new one that likely will never be broken, retired in a blaze of glory and somehow coaxed our head coach-turned-GM into his bed. Devyn claims she made that happen. I don’t care. I blame Levi. And the man has the balls to be fucking gorgeous, too.
I would argue the tolerance requirement is heavier on my end.
“He’s the architect for the expansion and the new compound.” Levi says.
Did I know about this? I sure as hell should have. I mean, I think I knew, I just thought…well, I thought, hoped, that Carter would do all of his work remotely. Breeze into town occasionally. I’d be able to avoid him…. hide from him. How in the hell did I remain ignorant about this? Had someone mentioned it and I didn’t pay attention? I do tend to wrap myself up in other things and block out the world around me. My job makes that easy. The new job title I was graced with since returning to the Grizzlies after a short stint in Buffalo, Director of Player Development, which is a really fancy title that basically means I am still Brady’s right-hand man and head scout. The title. The job makes it easy to stay busy. To avoid things…. people….thoughts of the past.
“You couldn’t find someone local?”
“No, Davis,” Levi says. “I couldn’t. And as of last week, he is local.”
I don’t like that gleam in his eye. I don’t like it one bit. I may not have been able to tell if Carter was amused by this turn of events, but Levi, he is definitely amused. Fucking hell.
“How do you even know him?” I ask. I know it is a stupid question the second it flies out of my mouth. Levi acknowledges it as such with a small chuckle.
“Considering he is the stepbrother of the man I share a bed with…. not that surprising.”
Levi’s stare doesn’t waver, and I continue to avert my gaze.
