Instacrush: A Rookie Rebels Novel

by Meader, Kate

  Maybe Cade should have let the poor guy take the wheel today so he could feel some semblance of control. Visiting your family after a year of painfully obvious absence would play havoc on anyone’s mental health. Dante’s sisters and their husbands were accepting of his sexuality, but his parents had iced him out over twelve years ago when he came out after his NHL retirement. Trips to visit his sisters were timed to ensure Dante didn’t cross paths with his parents, but proximity to his old hood made him twitchy.

  This year was no different. Having checked into a hotel in midtown Manhattan, they were headed to Brooklyn, a one-night flyby before continuing on to Philly for a Rebels away game. Yesterday’s Thanksgiving with Cade’s dad in San Antonio had been wonderful. Tucker Burnett adored Dante (sometimes, it seemed more than Cade himself) and Cade was thrilled to be able to give him the comfort of a loving family.

  Cade focused on not crashing on the FDR. It was not unlike Lake Shore Drive back home except faster, crazier, and featuring more obstacles than a Mario Kart course.

  “We should stop and get wine when we cross the bridge,” Dante said, checking his phone presumably for the nearest liquor store in Brooklyn.

  “Your sister said not to bother. And it’s not like we’re arriving empty-handed.” The trunk was filled with gifts for everyone—early Christmas presents because they probably wouldn’t be making their way back here in a month. Cade had enjoyed shopping for the nieces and nephews. One of his favorite things about the last time they’d visited was watching the kids go wide-eyed as they ripped open their presents.

  “That’s Moretti code. ‘Don’t bother’ in my family means ‘make sure it’s Italian and costs more than thirty bucks retail.’ Which my father would then criticize because we should be buying wholesale and storing it in our imaginary wine cellars.” He looked out the window, a moodier-than-usual cast to his expression.

  Dante preferred his feelings remain buried ten feet underground. He didn’t believe in talking about things he couldn’t change. His father’s views on homosexuality were implacable, his mother’s followed her husband’s, and their son’s personal and professional success wouldn’t be changing hearts and minds anytime soon.

  It wasn’t as if the man was unfulfilled: he was the general manager for a Cup-winning hockey team, he’d smashed ceilings and blazed a trail in pro sports, and he had Cade, a guy who loved him to pieces.

  Cade was fine with being on the receiving end of Dante’s hurt, but there was still a hole there that not even Cade could fill. Complaining wasn’t in Dante’s nature and opening himself up to the possibility of more pain wasn’t, either.

  So Cade would have to take this on—not just being there for his guy but taking a proactive step to fix this. Just as Dante had done for him over three years ago right before Cade came out to the world. It was going to be an interesting 24 hours.

  Parking was a bitch, but within fifteen minutes of crossing the Brooklyn Bridge, and after a brief stop for wine, they were finally slotted into a spot a block from the house of Dante’s oldest sister.

  Dante put his hand on the handle.

  “Hold up,” Cade said.

  The most gorgeous guy on the planet turned his head, one eyebrow raised in query. At close to forty, Dante was still in peak physical condition, a mountain of taut, unyielding muscle. Midnight black hair framed the face of a dark angel, all hard planes and hewn edges. But it was the man’s eyes that made the most impact. Ice-chip blue that turned to a summer sky when his passions rose.

  He didn’t ask why Cade was delaying, probably because he didn’t mind the wait. The two of them here together in a rental car on a Crown Heights side street was about as perfect as it could get.

  No words were spoken while they reached for each other. Their mouths connected, their breaths became one, and Dante’s moan found an answering response in Cade’s. It had been like this forever—a kiss between them always meant so much more. And Cade’s forever had started that night Dante crossed the line in his living room, taking what Cade offered so willingly.

  Here, I’m yours. We begin tonight.

  Cade coasted his hand down Dante’s chest, the muscles hard steel beneath his fingertips through the fine wool sweater. He rubbed as he went, soothing as much as inciting, and cupped his guy’s half-erect cock. The sound Dante made turned Cade hard, ready, and aching.

  “Cristo.” Dante’s fingers returned the favor, stroking hard just the way Cade liked it. “Every time. You wreck me.”

  Wet, deep kisses sizzled to every extremity, ratcheting up exquisite pressure in Cade’s balls. Well, that had backfired. He hadn’t meant to let it go this far, to the point where there was a good chance he was going to shoot in his pants like his fourteen-year-old self, gazing at this man’s poster on his bedroom wall back in San Antonio.

  There was a hot symmetry to it, he supposed.

  Scrambling for balance, he pulled back and placed his hand over Dante’s. “We shouldn’t.”

  “Can’t take what you’re doling out, polpetto?” The question might be sarcastic but not the endearment which meant meatball. It shouldn’t have been sexy but Cade loved when Dante used it.

  He’d only intended to relax his guy and take his mind off the day ahead, but he hadn’t reckoned on the man’s stamina. Less than an hour ago, they’d showered together … for a long and very mutually satisfying time.

  “I was trying to help,” Cade said breathlessly.

  “What’s that saying about helping those who help themselves?”

  “It’s up there with a road to hell and good intentions.”

  That made Dante smile. His strong hand restarted the torture through Cade’s jeans. No more kissing, just Dante’s blue-flamed gaze boring into Cade’s sex-fogged skull.

  “Oh, fuck, that’s so good. But—”

  “But? I love a good but.”

  Cade’s eyelids shuttered and he struggled to open them. “This was meant to be me doing something for you.” There was nothing stopping him from continuing his holy work on Dante’s impressive erection, except his focus was shot. He could multitask on the ice, in the kitchen, playing video games, but when it came to sex with Dante, his cock was one-track.

  Dante unzipped Cade’s jeans and shoved his briefs down with practiced efficiency.

  “You’re close, baby,” he murmured, his breath coming fast, each hot inhale spurring Cade on. “I should leave you hanging and punish you for thinking you were in control here.” He squeezed the thick head of Cade’s cock. A steady leak of pre-cum dribbled over his fingers, and Cade almost lost it.

  “Or maybe I should take you into my sister’s bathroom and fuck you over the sink.” He licked the corner of Cade’s mouth. “But only after you’ve sat through antipasti, two pasta courses, secondi, dolce, and every damn word about the damn planning permission for the damn house extension.”

  That sounded both torturous and amazing. “What kind of pasta?”

  Dante laughed. “Smart ass.”

  “It’s why you love me.”

  The Italian’s eyes softened. “No, I think it’s because you know exactly what I need.” And then he dropped his head and took Cade into his mouth to the root. Three lusty sucks was all Cade needed to buck, blow, and barrel his load down Dante’s throat. The surrender felt so powerful, so right. Giving Dante this control was exactly the right move.

  Zipping up, Cade watched Dante, waiting for him to make the brain switch. Even though his sisters accepted him without reservation, Dante showed them a different person from who he made available when it was just the two of them. With the Morettis, he walked a razor’s edge between his tough guy upbringing in Brooklyn and the out and proud man he’d become. Not hiding, but not fully turning his face to the light, either.

  Cade hoped this visit would change things.

  “Ready?” Dante asked, his voice even, his manner cool again. The man who could manage anyone and anything, including his messy feelings, was back.

  Cade nodded.
“Let’s do this.”

  * * *

  Read Wrapped Up in You now.

  Acknowledgments

  Thanks to Kristi Yanta for helping me shape this book into the story this couple deserved. She was Theo’s biggest fan and I had a blast exploring his fun personality through her eyes and making Theo more, well, Theo! Thanks also to Kim Cannon for doing such a great job cleaning up all my mistakes—and especially for catching all my Britishisms.

  To my agent, Nicole Resciniti—we had another great year, lady, and I couldn’t have done it without you. Thanks for supporting me on every path and detour on this journey and finding new opportunities for me.

  And finally, Jimmie, I’m blessed to have you in my life. Thanks for being my support every step of the way of this grand adventure.

  About the Author

  Originally from Ireland, USA Today bestselling author Kate Meader cut her romance reader teeth on Maeve Binchy and Jilly Cooper novels, with some Harlequins thrown in for variety. Give her tales about brooding mill owners, oversexed equestrians, and men who can rock an apron, a fire hose, or a hockey stick, and she’s there. Now based in Chicago, she writes sexy contemporary featuring strong heroes and amazing women and men who can match their guys quip for quip.

  Also by Kate Meader

  Rookie Rebels

  GOOD GUY

  Chicago Rebels

  IN SKATES TROUBLE

  IRRESISTIBLE YOU

  SO OVER YOU

  UNDONE BY YOU

  HOOKED ON YOU

  WRAPPED UP IN YOU

  Laws of Attraction

  DOWN WITH LOVE

  ILLEGALLY YOURS

  THEN CAME YOU

  Hot in Chicago

  REKINDLE THE FLAME

  FLIRTING WITH FIRE

  MELTING POINT

  PLAYING WITH FIRE

  SPARKING THE FIRE

  FOREVER IN FIRE

  COMING IN HOT

  Tall, Dark, and Texan

  EVEN THE SCORE

  TAKING THE SCORE

  ONE WEEK TO SCORE

  Hot in the Kitchen

  FEEL THE HEAT

  ALL FIRED UP

  HOT AND BOTHERED

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