Page 11 of Testing the Goalie

I press my fingers against my forehead. Frankly, I don’t want to have this conversation at all, but Ben deserves to know where I stand. I’m also pretty certain Ben won’t drop this until I let him down gently but firmly.

“I’ll text you with a time and place to meet. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a class to prepare for.”

I rush away, but not before noticing Ben’s face light up at the suggestion of our meeting.

I am screwed when it comes to this boy.

My steps don’t slow until I’m at my desk, where I text Ben, whom I’ve aptly named Sweet Boy in my contacts.

Me: Meet me at this address tonight at eight o’clock.

I send my address in a separate message, making it easier for him to pull up in GPS. No sooner does the message read delivered than his reply comes through.

Sweet Boy: I’ll be there. What should I wear?

I blow out a breath at Ben’s brazenness. He was mostly coy and sweet in the hall, but he’s still very obviously a brat through and through. If he were actually my boy, I’d love the attitude and the way he pushes my buttons. But he’s not, so it’s only frustrating because there is nothing I’m able to do to correct his behavior. I can’t spank him or edge him until he apologizes. No, I have to be professional.

It’s killing me.

Me: Wear what you were wearing when I ran into you in the hall. This conversation won’t take long. I just don’t want people eavesdropping.

Sweet boy: We’ll see about that. Talk soon, Daddy.

My cock grows at the word, hearing his voice in my head. I’ll never forget how he panted that honorific when he was begging to come.

Inviting Ben to my house tonight will most likely turn out to be a mistake, but I’m out of options. I need to explain I’m not willing to cross this line, but the school isn’t the best place to have this conversation since there are people who could overhear us and report it to the dean.

Thankfully, it doesn’t take long for my students to begin making their way into my classroom, effectively distracting me from thoughts of Ben.

I’ll deal with him later.

Right now, I have a job to do that doesn’t include fantasizing about him.

CHAPTER SEVEN

BEN

Practice today was fun and exhilarating, but multiple times throughout, my thoughts drifted to Ian and tonight. Thankfully, I didn’t let that affect my play.

When the puck was flying my way, my head was in the game, but every time we broke for water or for the coaches to correct a play, I found myself thinking about what could possibly happen tonight.

A nervous and excited energy runs through my veins as I head to the address Ian texted. I’m sure he’s planning on telling me we can’t be together, but that won’t happen if I have any say in the matter.

I like Ian a lot, and I’m certain he likes me too. At least, he did when we were parting ways at the resort. While we did spend a lot of time fucking, we also got to know each other. We shared meals and talked about nothing and everything. We didn’t really discuss our careers like we were both trying to forget about that stuff for a while, but we did have conversations about other things, like our favorite animals and what we would do with our lives if money wasn’t a problem.

I learned so much about myself over those two days, and it was all thanks to Ian. There has to be a way to make this work. I just have to convince him it’s a good idea.

When I pull up to the address, I’m surprised to find a decent-sized house. Honestly, I was expecting something on the smaller side, not a place big enough to raise a family. I fucking hope Ian doesn’t have a secret family. That would definitely have me changing plans. I don’t mess around with married men or anyone in a relationship, for that matter. I might be a manwhore, but I don’t participate in cheating.

I take a deep breath, slowly blowing it out before walking to Ian’s front door.

“Eight o’clock on the dot,” Ian notes when he opens the door.

“Do you like my punctuality?” I ask.

“It’s appreciated,” he says, stepping to the side. “Why don’t we have a seat in the living room? Like I told you in the text, this won’t take long.”

I follow him, staring at his lean back and pin-straight posture, like it always is.

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