Game Changer (Game Changers, #1)
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Read between November 23 - November 24, 2025
14%
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Kip was certainly down for whatever, but he’d just sort of assumed that the captain of an NHL team might be kind of…toppy.
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He was already on the verge of shattering, but when Scott murmured Kip’s name, Kip lost all control. His rhythm was completely gone, and he was just fucking Scott as hard and fast as he could as his mind broke apart. It was all just too much.
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Kip began collecting his clothes. He wouldn’t kid himself about what this was. The sex had been great, but Scott would probably like him to leave now. “Well,” he said, “thanks for that.” “You’re leaving?” Scott sounded disappointed. Kip paused, holding his jeans in one hand, his T-shirt in the other. “Yeah, I mean…” “You don’t have to,” Scott said. “You can stay. I… I’d like you to stay. If you want.”
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Scott stroked the backs of his fingers over Kip’s face. “It’s completely selfish, actually. I want to see you in a tux that was tailored to your gorgeous body. I might not be able to dance with you that night, but you’ll know I’ll be wishing I was.”
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They had been nothing like the times he had been with Kip. Scott had carefully stored the memory of every kiss and touch and moan Kip had given him, and had filled the lonely hours on the road by replaying them over and over again. He was smitten. That was the only word for it.
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“How are you feeling?” Scott asked after a bit. “A little guilty, to be honest.” “Don’t. I love doing this. I love touching you, looking at you. I’ve denied myself anything like this for so long… Don’t feel guilty.” “Okay,” Kip said. God, that’s so sad. “You’re so beautiful, Kip. I’ve never…” Kip waited. “I’ve never wanted anyone like this before. I’ve had, I don’t know, crushes. I’ve been attracted to men, of course. Hooked up with men. But you… I’m breaking all my rules with you.”
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Scott laughed, but inside he fretted. He hadn’t been expecting any of his teammates to be there. That would only make things more complicated. And, god, it wasn’t fair. He wanted to tell Carter—his best friend—that he was bringing his boyfriend to the gala. His wonderful, gorgeous boyfriend who made him feel lighter and happier than he could ever remember feeling in his life. He wanted to dance with Kip, and kiss him, and introduce him to everyone so they would know how lucky Scott was. Instead, Scott said, “Maybe. We’ll see.” Carter smiled. “I hope so. I can’t wait to meet her, man.”
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“Because he just lit up like the goddamn sun. Jesus. You guys are doomed.”
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Kip’s eyes darted down to Scott’s crotch, and his smile widened. We could leave. We could leave right now… “I should get back,” Kip said, infuriatingly casual. Scott bit down on his tongue, hard enough to bring him back to earth. “You’re in trouble later,” he growled.
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She squeezed his hand. “You are asking a lot of him, you know.” “I know. I won’t promise more than I can give, but… I’ll give him everything I possibly can.”
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Scott wanted to tell her that he loved him too, but he’d never said that out loud before. He hadn’t even let himself seriously consider the possibility, but as he walked Elena off the dance floor, and saw Kip sitting, relaxed in a plush chair, watching them… …what else could this feeling be?
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“Yeah.” Scott smiled. He looked up at Kip, and he knew. He knew for sure. Scott Hunter was in love.
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“I was thinking… Planes, y’know? And anything can happen…” “Scott?” “I love you,” he said. “I just wanted to say that. Before I left.” Kip’s jaw hit the floor.
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“I don’t expect you to, y’know, say it too or anything. I know it’s probably a ridiculous thing to say or feel right now, but I am in love with you. And I wanted you to know that.”
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“Maybe I should hop a flight to Columbus. See if you and Jalo wanna make a sandwich outta me.”
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“Kip,” Maria said, “you didn’t tell me that all of your cute dude friends are gay. What is even the point of me being here?” “I did tell you and, if you want, later we can go to Olive Garden or wherever straight people go.”
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“How many minutes would I get if I just killed him?” Scott grumbled as he watched Rozanov skate away. “I’d have to give you at least ten,” Hal said dryly. “Not worth it in the playoffs.”
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She made a face that implied that she was thinking very hard, then grabbed a cucumber out of the fridge and laid it on the counter. She picked up a knife and held it near the center of the cucumber. “Okay, you tell me when I hit the approximate length.”
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“What’s wrong with the closet? It’s a wonderful place crammed full of professional athletes.”
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“Hey,” Bennett said, after they separated, “what’s his name?” Scott grinned. “Kip.” Carter looked suddenly delighted. “Kip!” he said. “That is the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever heard! Are you kidding me with that shit?” “Thank god,” Huff said. “I thought you were gonna say you were secretly dating Rozanov.” “Rozanov wishes,” Scott said.
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“For the record,” Carter said, “if you had to choose between the three of us—” “No,” Scott said. “Come on,” Carter said. “I mean, I assume it’s me, but—” “Bennett,” Scott said, just to bother Carter. “Makes sense.” Huff nodded. “Bennett seems like a cuddler.”
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“Does it make me look like a hot lumberjack?” “You remember that?” Kip laughed. “Man, I was trying to be smooth. Didn’t actually think there was a chance with you, but I had to at least let you know that I might be interested.”
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“It’s not Rozanov, is it?” “Jesus. No! Why does everyone—?”
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“Listen,” Carter said. “I want you to know—if I’ve been acting weird, or whatever, it’s not because you’re… You know. Gay and shit.” “It’s okay.” “No, I’m serious. I don’t have a problem with that. But I guess I do have a problem with you not thinking you could tell me sooner.”
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“I just hate thinking you were, like, all alone. All that time.”
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“So,” Maria said, as soon as their server had delivered their micheladas, “what should we talk about? Oh! I know! How about we talk about how your boyfriend is playing in the Stanley Cup finals tonight!”
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“And ten being, like, that Brokeback Mountain kiss where Heath Ledger broke Jack Gyllenhaal’s nose by kissing him so hard…”
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Maybe next time we go out Scott will come too.” “Tell him to leave his shirt at home. And to bring a teammate!”
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“You did it!” Kip said. “I did it,” Scott agreed. They stood there for a moment, still holding each other and smiling, and maybe it was the adrenaline pumping through him, or maybe the whole night had just felt like such a wonderful dream and there was only one thing that could make it perfect and that was…
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He could see the surprise in Kip’s eyes as Scott leaned in and kissed him. Scott thought it might just be a quick peck, but as soon as their lips touched, he just went for it. He kissed Kip like they were alone and maybe hadn’t seen each other in months. He kissed him like a man who had everything he had ever dreamed of.
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“Mm. May as well go for broke, then.” Scott kissed him again, and everything around them disappeared. It was just Scott and the man he loved, making out in a penalty box.
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“That,” Carter said with a wide grin, “is fucking cute. He picked you up at work? I didn’t think Hunter had any game!”
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Shawn: You. Fucking. Bitch. You lying fucking bitch. We’re getting lunch together. SOON.
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“I was just celebrating a little with my boyfriend.”
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Scott kissed him and it was exactly what he had been craving all night. Even while celebrating winning the goddamn Stanley Cup with his teammates, he’d been consumed with the need to kiss his boyfriend.
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“I love hockey. I love being able to do this for a living. But,” he said, “I know what it feels like to not fit in.
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Fear is a powerful thing, but this year I found the thing that is more powerful.”
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“So I share this honor with my teammates, and my coaches,” Scott said, needing to wrap it up, “but I also share it with you, Kip. You have made me better, in every way. I love you.”
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“And, uh, one of the gay clubs here in Vegas is having a Scott Hunter night tonight, so that’s where I’ll be later, if any of you wanna come dance.”
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He needed to get out of here, or make peace with the fact that he was going to fuck Kip against a wall in front of god and Ilya Rozanov.
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And Scott didn’t have much experience at clubs, but the way Rozanov moved against the men he danced with seemed a lot more deliberate and practiced than someone who was just trying to get into the spirit of the place. Huh.