CHAPTER FOURTEEN

F inn

Noah flings himself into my arms, and I wrap my arms around him instinctively, inhaling his clean scent. His back is muscular, and I trail my hand from muscular plane to muscular plane, and I raise my chin slightly so that he can have the best angle as he explores me with his mouth.

The kiss is hot.

The kiss isn't supposed to be hot.

Maybe we're both excellent actors. Maybe waving to the audience during hockey games trained us for more than we thought.

His hands find my hair, and he seems to enjoy moving his fingers through my slightly-too long cut. His mouth is more aggressive than any girl I've kissed, but I guess my kisses are also more aggressive. He sucks on my tongue, sucks on my lips, and my cock expands.

It expands too much, moving from something not on my mind to top of mind.

The door opens.

"Finn?" Coach's voice is astonished, and I stifle a smile.

Noah acted perfectly.

Noah stops the kiss, and I press my lips to keep from whimpering. His hard chest no longer presses against me, and his hands no longer play with my hair.

Coach is supposed to think we're madly in love, but I don't want Noah to think that. I mean, I'm the one who proposed. I remember that much. I'm the one who slid my ring on his finger. I don't want Noah to think I'm some creepy guy who is so desperate to have him around that I got him drunk, for the second time, and married him when he was too tipsy to understand what he was doing.

A swerve of guilt courses through me, but now is not the time to consider that.

"What are you doing here?" Coach's gaze bounces around the room.

"I wanted to spend time with my husband." I take Noah's hand in mine.

"And doing more than that." Coach stares at us, baffled.

He's not the only baffled one.

"I guess you read the news."

Coach sighs. "What is this about, Finn?"

Noah squeezes my hand, and calmness moves over me. "I'm sorry, I don't understand how the news got out."

"You wanted to get married and not have anyone know?" Coach blinks at me.

"Yeah. I mean, that's why we didn't invite anyone."

Coach furrows his brow. He opens and closes his mouth, moving from me to Noah and back again.

I'm glad Noah kissed me. Coach was planning on doing much more yelling at us, and now he can't. Now he's confused.

"Do you know how many paparazzi look through marriage certificates in Vegas?" Coach asks. "There's no more public place to elope."

Oh.

"I didn't think about that," I say. "I'm sorry."

"You've had girlfriends, Finn. I've met them. I mean, you've had a lot."

Noah whitens, which is the appropriate reaction if he were actually in love with me, and his muscles go stiff.

I nudge his shoulder, hoping to ease some of the tension.

All I want now is for him to be happy. To not have destroyed his life too much.

"I had a lot of dates," I say. "But only one Noah."

I smile up at him, and he smiles back.

His eyes are beautiful. I could get lost in his gaze.

Coach clears his throat. "You just met."

"Actually we've been corresponding with each other for years," I say.

"You didn't say anything when I introduced you one week ago."

"I followed his vlog," Noah says quickly. "We exchanged messages. He didn't know it was me until I told him later."

"And then you told him, and he got you drunk?" Coach asks, brow furrowed.

My heart pounds. This isn't going to work. Coach totally sees through us. He knows we're random teammates and doesn't believe a word we're saying.

"I don't drink often," Noah says. "It was an accident."

I nod.

Coach sighs. "You were sitting apart on your way to Vegas."

"And looking miserable," Noah says, which is some awesome quick thinking. He squeezes my hand again. "I love Finn, sir. We didn't plan to elope, but that doesn't mean our feelings aren't true and strong. "

"The last time I spoke to you it was because you were acting homophobic."

"Which we told you wasn't true," Finn says.

"And now I know why you got so angry." Coach closes his eyes. "You're going to be the death of me."

"We didn't mean for the whole world to know."

"You just wanted to get married," Coach says.

"Because we love each other."

Noah smiles at me exactly as if we were really a couple and I had told him I loved him.

"You need to call your agents," Coach says. "They'll need to talk with team management. This is a huge deal, guys."

"I know," I say softly.

"You're supposed to disclose relationships."

"That's not in the handbook," Noah says. "I, um, just read it. Since I'm new."

Coach sighs. "I guess HR didn't think about homosexual relationships between players when they wrote it."

"I don't want Noah to be sent away," I say. "I'm sure the team owners don't want a scandal about the Blizzards thwarting young love."

"My son is gay. That's, um, no issue." Coach backs away, his eyes still wide. "Call your agent. And this is an elliptical room. Not a kissing room."

"Sorry, Coach," Noah says.

Coach nods and flees the room, and we're alone again.

I step away, even though I miss the feel of being beside me. I glance at my phone. "Twelve missed calls. Better call my agent."

Noah nods, not meeting my eyes.

God, he probably hated kissing me. My stomach churns at the thought, guilt once again flooding me. I fumble through my phone, my fingers shaking, until I see my agent's name, then I inhale, and press call.