Pucking Strong: An MM Workplace Hockey Romance (Jacksonville Rays Book 4)

“Stop fidgeting,” I mutter.

“I’m not fidgeting.” Next to me, Teddy tugs at the collar of his sweater again. My lips purse, and he curses under his breath. “Fucking stop, alright? Just let me fidget.”

Cheryl, our representative from the child welfare office, finishes her phone call, turning back to face us. She’s a middle-aged white lady with greying hair cut in a blunt bob. “So sorry about that. Never a dull moment, as they say.”

“Oh, that’s totally fine,” says Teddy.

She checks her notes on her tablet. “So, you were walking me through her daily routine.”

“Yes.” He drops my hand and sweeps forward, gesturing all around the living room as he shows her Karolina’s art wall and craft station. He’s talking fast, clearly nervous. “And this has all been great for retaining her fine motor skills. Once her arm cast comes off in a couple weeks, we’ll be starting on the manipulatives, like molder’s clay.”

Cheryl nods, taking notes.

Teddy takes her on the grand tour, leading her down to Karolina’s room and showing her the modifications we made to ease her care, like the adjustable bed and the child monitors. “And she sleeps a solid six hours every night,” he goes on. “Sometimes it’s closer to eight. But she really does come by it naturally. Henrik is a light sleeper too. He only needs, like, four hours, and he’s good to go play professional hockey. So, I think we’re doing pretty good if we balance out at an even seven—”

I take his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Breathe.”

He huffs out a breath, and Cheryl gives him a consoling look. “You’re doing great.”

He groans, cheeks blooming pink with embarrassment.

“I know this can all feel stressful,” she goes on. “My job here is just to listen, observe, and document. I’m not making any judgments. And I’m not here with any agenda, other than assuring the welfare of a child.” She holds up her tablet. “Do you mind if I take some photos?”

“Of course not,” I reply. “We’ll wait for you in the kitchen.” Tugging on Teddy’s hand, I pull him from the bedroom, leaving Cheryl alone to take her photos.

He’s been on edge for the last three days, feverishly cleaning and reorganizing the house in preparation for this visit. I only just got back this morning from another away game. The apartment looks unrecognizable compared with the sterile, white-walled unit of a month ago. The walls of glass still let in great light and views, but now there is color and life everywhere.

Like an anxious magpie, Teddy has turned this place into a cozy nest. We now have books (and the shelves to hold them). Karolina has a full craft center in the corner, complete with a little desk and chair. Electric candles glow on the coffee table next to a decorative wooden tray he’s filled with fall pumpkins and gourds.

And the whole house smells like cinnamon, because Teddy made kanelbullar. They’re a bit misshapen and a little burnt on the bottom. But he made them, which makes them perfect. He even sprinkled them with pärlsocker.

Dropping my hand, he paces into the kitchen, not stopping until he reaches the far wall of glass. Gasping, he turns. “Oh—I forgot to mention her bath routine—”

I grab his arm as he tries to dart past. “Stay.”

He groans, jerking his arm free. “How are you so calm about this?”

“Because we have nothing to fear. We take excellent care of Karolina. Either Cheryl will see that, or she won’t.”

“Well, we can help her along. You know, tell her all the ways we care for Karro and not just leave it to her imagination.”

I reach out a hand and press it over his chest. I just want to see if his heart beats as fast as his racing thoughts.

He slaps my hand down. “What are you doing?”

“Touching you,” I reply with a smirk.

“Don’t you dare distract me right now, Henrik. This is too important.”

He’s right. We need to focus. Besides, Hanna will be back with Karro at any moment. We asked her to take Karro down the street for ice cream while we gave Cheryl some time to ask her questions and take photos. We already completed all the required questionnaires.

“Fine,” I say. “I won’t distract you while she’s here.”

He huffs, craning his neck to see if she’s coming around the corner. “Good.”

I step in behind him, smoothing my hands up his sides until he stiffens. I like seeing how he reacts to different kinds of touch. His body just seems to know when what I want is the comfort that comes with sleep or the casual touches that come with sharing a life.

But in a moment like this, when I tease? When I caress? His body comes alive like nothing else. It’s intoxicating. I press in behind him, daring to whisper in his ear, “But the moment she’s gone, I’m going to distract you some more.”

Within thirty minutes, we say goodbye to Cheryl at the door. She took all her photos and asked all her questions, including a few directly to Karro. Cheryl warned us that we wouldn’t hear anything for a few weeks. For me, that’s a relief, and I’ll push the case from my mind. No action needed. For Teddy, it’s something to fixate on and worry over every hour of every day until she contacts us again.

We all have our own coping strategies.

Almost as soon as Cheryl leaves, Teddy lets out a gasping breath. “Fuck, why did I think it would be a good idea to wear a sweater?” He tugs it off over his head as he dashes away.

Hanna just laughs, following him as far as the kitchen, while I finish getting Karro set up on the couch with her coloring books. Hanna is staying through the evening because Teddy and I are being forced by Poppy to continue with Operation Mighty Oak. Tonight is date two, wherein I will join Teddy at dinner with all the other queer players on my team.

I’m dreading it. I have such limited free time now that we’re in season. Any moment not spent on the ice or traveling for a game, I want to be home. I want to be with Karolina and Teddy. Sharing him with my teammates tonight feels like a chore. Doubly so, because we all know we’re being photographed.

But, as Poppy said, this matters. We’re sending a signal that will hopefully reach far beyond the hockey world. We’re telling people it’s okay to live, and love, and build families in different ways. The love Jake shares with Caleb and Ilmari is no less sacred than the love Langley shares with Tess.

And we all have children to protect and raise. Tonight is as much for Karro’s future as it is for mine and Teddy’s present.

That’s a lot of pressure to place on one plate of sushi.

“So, where are you all going tonight?” says Hanna, taking a bite of one of Teddy’s cinnamon rolls.

“I’m not sure,” I reply. “Jake Price picked it. I believe it’s a Japanese restaurant.”

“Yum!”

Offering her a weak smile, I step around the island. “Will you excuse me a moment?”

I duck into the bedroom and find it empty. My side of the bed is pristine, with nothing on the side table except a phone charging cord and a glass of water. Teddy’s side table overflows with books and electronics in various states of charge, vitamin bottles, reading glasses, his retainer case.

He tried to hide his retainer from me at first, only putting it in when he thought I was already asleep. It was charming the first time he woke in a daze, forgot it was in, and spoke to me with slurred speech. He only stopped fretting about it when I let him catch me making a mess with my water flosser.

The bathroom door is wide open. Our unspoken rule is that an open door means the other can enter. I step through into the bathroom and immediately see Teddy back in the closet, one foot in the air, tugging on a pair of rust-colored chinos. He’s shirtless, his sweater and T-shirt left in a pile on the floor.

“Hej.”

He jolts upright, tugging the chinos up around his hips. “Do you think she hated us?”

“What?” It takes me a moment to even think of Cheryl. “No. You heard her; she forms no opinion of us. The facts will speak for themselves.”

He snorts, buttoning his pants and zipping the fly. “Yeah, right. And you believed her? Everyone forms opinions about everyone.”

I step into the closet, watching the way the muscles of his torso twist and flex as he moves. There’s hardly an ounce of fat on him. He’s long and lean, yet more angles to add to his composition. He turns around, showing me the muscles of his back, as he searches in the drawer for a fresh T-shirt.

Not for the first time, I wish I didn’t leave all my photography equipment in Sweden. I’ve never really felt inspired here. My work is so all-consuming that I don’t often pause to mourn my lack of other hobbies. But in this moment, with the closet lights casting shadows across the planes of his back and shoulders, my fingers itch to capture him.

Luckily, there are other ways to capture a moment. I step in behind him, smoothing my hands up his sides.

He jolts again, standing upright. “What are you doing?”

Is it fair to say I don’t know? Up to this point, we’ve limited our experimentation to kissing, which I’ve enjoyed. Quick kisses in the car. Slow, burning kisses on the couch, Teddy in my lap. We accidentally kissed in front of Karolina last night, which sent her doubling over in fits of squeals and laughter.

I’ve felt ready to try more, but I haven’t known how to express it. Part of me wishes Teddy would just take charge, shove me against the wall, and have his way with me. Call it extreme exposure therapy. But he’s been so obliging, always asking if I like it, assuring me we can take things at my speed.

But I don’t know what speed I want. And I have no sexual experience with a man, so I’m not really sure what to do. I would take what I like and try to replicate it, but I’ve never enjoyed sexual touch before Teddy. Each time, my senses went into overdrive until they went numb. Things always felt too wet. There was too much friction. The scent of the latex condom made it feel all the more clinical, coldly procedural. Too much panting. Gripping hands, whispered moans.

I shut it all out, until I felt cut off from my body. Floating somewhere in a dark ether in my mind, I concentrated on just one sensation: coming. That’s what my partner wanted from me, right? That’s what I was supposed to want? To come into the condom? With my eyes closed tight, I made myself come.

Then I thanked them.

And they left.noveldrama

I always stood alone in the shower after, hands shaking, wondering why I felt so broken.

With Teddy I finally feel different. I feel more. His body is a tether that keeps me grounded in the moment. I don’t try to escape. When he’s touching me or I’m touching him, I feel curious. I like watching him react. I want to learn his body better.

I glide my hands over his ribs and up his back, brushing them over his bare shoulders. His skin is so warm. And smooth. And there’s not a single hair. I circle my thumbs over his upper trapezius muscles, pressing down lightly.

He pushes the drawer closed with his hips, his hands lifting to grip the shelf above. “What are you doing?” he repeats on a groan.

“Touching you. Do you want me to stop?”

“No.”

I’ve slept next to him for a couple weeks now. Usually, he wears a T-shirt to bed. I think it’s his way of keeping our touch platonic. I’ve spent my nights wrapped up in him, breathing him in. Before, he was my life raft. I needed him. He kept me afloat.

But I don’t want to need him anymore. I want to want him. I want to crave him like he so clearly craves me. I want to memorize his every line and curve so I can picture them in my mind when he’s away from me. I step in, my hands slipping under his arms to brush down his chest.

He sucks in a breath, his head sagging forward.

I press my front against his back, heart pounding as a sensual feeling races through me. It’s like a fluttering of wings in my gut. I feel fevered, but it doesn’t repulse me. His skin warms under my touch, and my skin warms to match. This is a natural reaction. It’s nothing to fear.

He groans again, dropping his hands to a lower shelf, as I skate my fingertips down the rigid muscles of his abdomen, letting them glide across his hips. He has hair on his stomach. A faint dusting, hardly anything. I’m much hairier across my chest and abdomen. I’ve never noticed it before. Never given it a second thought. Does it bother him?

“I have hair on my chest,” I whisper.

Teddy stiffens. Then he snorts a laugh. It shakes his shoulders. “I know. I’ve seen it.”

“Does it bother you? You have very little hair by comparison.”

He spins around to face me, grabbing my wrists before I can drop my hands away. He presses my hands back to the flat planes of his chest, smiling like he has a lantern glowing inside him. “I have some hair. See?” He moves my wrists, letting my palms brush over the fine, soft hairs of his chest.

“I have more hair,” I remind him. “Does it bother you?”

Still smiling, he drops his hands to the bottom of my T-shirt and slips them up and under. It’s my turn to stifle a gasp as he glides his hands over my stomach and up to my chest, lifting the hem of my shirt as he goes. I feel my skin heat under his smooth palms. His thumbs brush circles against my coarse chest hair. “It doesn’t bother me, baby.” He leans in, his lips by my ear. “It turns me the fuck on.”

Before I can respond, Karro’s voice comes from the bedroom, shouting in Swedish. “Teddy, Morbror, look, it came, it came!”

Teddy and I break apart as Karro comes scooting into the bathroom on the new walker/rider toy we ordered for her last week. It’s purple and shaped like a puppy and will let her zoom around the apartment using just her weight-bearing leg. Her smile is dazzling as she shoots forward three feet, almost hitting the side of the tub.

“What are you doing?” she says in English, glancing between us.

“Nothing,” I say in Swedish, stepping away from him.

With a laugh, Teddy pulls two sweaters off the shelf. “Morbror was just helping me get dressed for our big date.” He holds up the sweaters for me. “Blue or tan, babe?”

I can’t help but smile as, from the bathroom, Karro shouts, “Blue!”