International Men of Sports 8
w/ Devon Rhodes
Book eight in the International Men of Sports series.
When Robin has to save his career and choose between two very different men, he has to try not to double-fault…while hoping for an ace.
Professional tennis player Robin Keller has a love/hate relationship with most everything in his life—his game, his tennis rival and sometimes hook-up Danie Coetzee, the pills and alcohol he uses to get through his days. Nothing seems to be going right anymore, and when he hits rock bottom after the French Open, drastic changes are the only option.
Quinn Damaris has a well-earned reputation for turning around the careers of the athletes he acts as chef for, and he can tell from the first meeting that Robin is going to be a challenge. As a double amputee, he’s not a man to back down just because the road is rough.
He didn’t count on anything starting between them, especially when the way he realises Robin is gay is when he sees him with Danie. Robin will have to make a choice. Is Quinn kidding himself to think that a tennis star could fall for a man who isn’t whole?
Robin couldn’t restrain the curl to his upper lip as he opened the door to the light knock and met Danie Coetzee’s smug expression. It immediately put his back up, never mind the fact that he was the one who had invited him there. Sort of.
“Oh, fuck you,” he said by way of greeting, debating bouncing the steel hotel door off the other player’s face. When Danie merely smirked at him from under his concealing hoodie, Robin grabbed his rival by the arm and yanked him into the room. “Idiot. Don’t just stand there. Get in here before someone sees you.” He slammed the door and crossed his arms. “Or leave. I don’t care.”
“Howzit, brah? Miss me?” The South African was unflappable as ever, and for some reason that pissed Robin off even more. “I got your text,” he added unnecessarily. That much was obvious, otherwise Danie would have had no way of knowing where to come to follow through on the silent promise they’d exchanged earlier at the practice courts.
The top players kept out of the public eye as much as possible during the Grand Slams, and even though Robin’s preferred hotel while in Paris—a small, family-run hotel off the Champs-Élysées—was fairly well known to those in the tennis world, Danie wouldn’t have known what room he was in this year…which was why Robin had texted it to him earlier. Just that—nothing else. Nothing to tie them together.
Danie stripped off his jacket and hung it in the closet, then he sniffed at Robin and frowned, looking around the room. “Have you been drinking?”
Robin shrugged. “Just a little pick-me-up.” He walked farther into the room, unconcerned about whether Danie followed him. “Quit nagging, Mother. You sound like my coach. And I can’t believe you just hung up a sweatshirt.” He picked up the glass and scooped ice into it by dipping it right into the half-full ice bucket then draining off the melted water. Before setting it down on the desk, he had to clear a spot as the remains of his steak frites and dessert still littered the surface. Noticing the Soma pill bottle sitting in plain view, he quickly moved the room service dome to cover it.
Danie came up behind him and grabbed his wrist as he reached for the vodka bottle. Against his will, Robin gave a little shudder of reaction. Danie wasn’t overly bulky—no professional tennis player was—but he was taller and broader than Robin, and Robin knew he was more than capable of restraining him. The reason that sent a swell of anticipation to his cock was beyond him. Stupid thing.
“Why I need to remind you of this, I have no idea,” Danie murmured in his ear, “but you have first round play tomorrow. You should not be drinking tonight. You shouldn’t be drinking at all, but the night before a match? Especially at Roland Garros?”
Robin refused to justify his scolding with a response but he didn’t move away. He could feel the warmth radiating from Danie.
“You’re pissing your career away. Makes it easier for me, so thanks for that. I’m looking forward to hoisting up La Coupe in a couple of weeks.”
He tried to jerk away then. “Fuck off. You’re a moose on clay. I certainly don’t need to follow your ‘clean living’ ideals to wipe the court with you.”
Danie tightened his grip on Robin’s forearm and snaked his other arm around Robin’s waist, tugging him fully back so Robin’s ass was up against his evident erection.
“If you need something to self-medicate your issues with, I am more than happy to give you a much more enjoyable reason to be slow on your feet tomorrow.”
His eyelids closed in response. When Danie finally released his wrist, Robin reached back and grabbed a handful of Danie’s tight butt, holding him in place as he rubbed his ass along that tempting ridge. Hating himself for allowing Danie to put him in this position once again, Robin vowed—not for the first time—that this would be the last time he’d allow Danie in. He’d promised himself the same thing a month ago at the Italian Open, and look how that had gone. In reality, he knew full well that would only last until the next time Danie gave him that inquiring eyebrow in passing at some future tournament.
They were so unsuited for one another it was ridiculous. Sexual chemistry wasn’t a problem between them, but they were direct competitors duking it out in the top ten world rankings of the professional tennis tour. Not only was fucking the enemy not wise from a mental game standpoint, if it was discovered it could end their careers…not to mention cost them their real bread and butter—endorsements.
The biggest barrier between them, though, was Danie’s stinging disdain of Robin’s lifestyle. The judgmental prick always managed to get his digs in when they were in private. In public, he threw down so very politely that most people took him as being a nice guy giving him his due, when Robin knew he was really being sarcastic and…and… Robin’s eyes drifted closed as Danie ran the flat of his palm down over Robin’s erection. He shut his brain off.
Time to get naked and get fucked. He ripped his shirt up over his head.
Danie’s amazing reflexes kicked in and he moved just in time to avoid getting clobbered by Robin’s elbow. He sat on the foot of the bed and started untying his shoes.
“I assume you brought stuff.” Robin shimmied out of his sweatpants. No underwear tonight—he figured it would have been a waste of time.
“Just for assuming, I should say no.” Danie was taking his sweet time getting out of his clothes, peeling his socks off like they’d break or something.
“Fuck off and give it to me.” He stood in front of Danie and made gimme motions with his hand. He knew Danie would have brought supplies if only for the fact that he needed extra-large condoms. “I need to do a little work to take that extra leg you call a cock.”
Danie snorted then gestured to the closet. “It’s all in my jacket pocket.”
After giving a loud sigh, Robin crossed the room to fumble through three pockets before he found the right one. When he turned around, he found Danie was down to just his jeans and had been staring at his ass. He didn’t bother hiding the fact and kept his gaze on Robin’s growing erection as Robin walked back across the room to the bed.
After throwing himself down, he tossed the strip of condoms to the side and used his teeth to crack open the stubborn flip top on the tube of slick. Danie stood and slowly undid the fastenings of his jeans while Robin made a quick job of lubing himself inside and out. He’d die before admitting that he’d already gotten himself mostly ready before Danie came over.
When Danie’s pants hit the floor, Robin gave himself one more pass with his slicked fingers then tossed the closed tube in Danie’s direction.
Danie wasn’t a kisser—at least not with Robin. Robin knew that and he still felt a twinge of sadness as Danie moved over the top of him and sat back on his heels, giving Robin’s shaft a few pumps with one hand while he tested Robin’s entrance with fingers of the other. It wasn’t that Danie was a selfish lover—it’s just that they weren’t ‘lovers’, and probably never would be. He sighed again.
“All ready? Okay?” Danie asked with a slight frown as he paused with his wrapped cockhead against Robin’s hole.
As Danie pressed slowly inside, Robin’s eyes closed. This was likely the most affection he’d ever see from Danie, though whether it was because he wasn’t capable of it or that he thought Robin wasn’t worthy of more, he didn’t know. Maybe both.
But fuck, it was good.