Ruffling The Peacocks Feathers(7)

Draven nodded. “Thank you, Rueben. I’ll take care of that. And it was good to see you again.” He grinned for just a couple seconds, then closed his lips over his teeth in a smirk. “I’m sure we’ll be seeing more of you.”

Rueben blinked. For some reason, Draven’s canines had seemed a little long and a little pointed. Dismissing it as a trick of the crappy hotel lighting, he nodded. “Yeah. I’ll be around for a few days, yet.” He shrugged. “Don’t have anywhere else to go.” For some reason, the thought of leaving town without getting the chance to connect with Lamar was just…wrong. Completely out of the question, he decided.

As he let himself out, Rueben heard Kontra say, “I’m going to call a buddy of mine in Colorado.”

Rueben really didn’t want to know, and quickly pulled the door closed behind him. He glanced up and down the hall, wondering which room was the hot blond’s. He mentally kicked himself for not getting the cutie’s phone number. He grinned, realizing it’d be easy to remedy.

Leaning against the wall, he knocked on the door of the room he’d just exited. Draven appeared almost instantly. He chuckled. “Need something?”

Grinning, Rueben replied, “Yup. Lamar’s phone number.”

Draven’s smirk turned into a smile. “Sure. Is your number the same?”

Rueben nodded.

“Good. I’ll text it to you.” He winked. “Be good to him.”

Unable to help it, Rueben chuckled. “Oh, I plan to be very, very good to him.”

Laughing, Draven shut the door, and Rueben returned to his room. As promised, by the time he made it down the hall, around the corner, and into his room, Draven had texted him a phone number.

Not willing to second-guess himself, Rueben quickly programmed it into his phone, then dialed. A pang of disappointment hit him when it went to voicemail. “Hi, Lamar,” he said into the recording. “This is Rueben Malone. I’d like the opportunity to get to know you. Will you join me for dinner? I’d love to take you out.” He rattled off his number and disconnected the call.

As he struggled with wrapping his boot in a bag to protect it from water, Rueben wondered at his desires. He didn’t normally date…anyone. He played hockey on the AHL—the American Hockey League—trying to work his way up. He normally kept his sexuality on the down low. He didn’t deny it, and didn’t try to hide it by dating women, but nor did he rub it in his teammates’ faces by flaunting it.

His brother’s accusation of him being a horn ball was true enough. He did enjoy sex. He just didn’t have it nearly as often as Ricky seemed to think he did. It wasn’t his fault that the two times the man had dropped by unannounced happened to be the morning after he’d been out to a club and brought home a playmate. That’s what the man got for going to his house at nine AM on a Saturday morning.

Rueben pushed the thoughts away. It took all his concentration to maneuver safely in the shower. Too bad his dick had other ideas. He felt damn tempted to jack off as he roved the warm, sudsy washcloth over his cock and balls. Only thinking he heard his phone ringing in the other room—which could have been his hopeful imagination, it’d happened before—kept him from doing it.

Hustling through the rest of cleaning, Rueben promised his bobbing shaft he’d take care of it soon if that hadn’t been Lamar calling him back. His cock jerked at the thought of seeing the little man again. At about five foot eleven and one hundred forty pounds, all lean muscle and smooth planes, Rueben thought Lamar had fit perfectly against his six foot three body and hard mass.

He realized those thoughts weren’t giving him any relief and shook his head. Quickly finishing up, Rueben sat down on the side of the tub and swung his legs over. As he went to stand, his good foot lost purchase and slipped out from under him. He grabbed wildly for the towel hanger, but missed.

Rueben went down hard, hitting his walking boot against the toilet seat. He roared as pain shot up his leg, making spots dance behind his eyes. Snapping his jaws shut, a groan rolled through Rueben’s chest as he struggled to control the searing agony coursing through him.

Why the fuck does this hurt more than when I fucking broke it? A beeping filtered into his pain-induced haze. He recognized it as his phone, which he’d left on the bathroom counter. It really had been his imagination that had him hearing his phone going off while in the shower.

Levering on one elbow, Rueben reached up with the other arm. That seemed to pull his leg even more, although why, he didn’t know. Spots danced across his eyes, making it hard to see. He felt the vibrating phone with his fingers, hit send, and hissed, “Yes?”