Chapter Twenty-five

 

Nick

“I haven’t read anything bad in the sports columns lately.”

I know she follows these things for her job with Charlie, but I hate that she reads shit about me on these sites. “It was just a reporter stirring things up. They wanted a quarterback controversy but since Chip retired at the end of last season, our camp is too boring for them.”

“Right. Just a reporter,” she murmurs. Her head’s averted so I can’t see her face but she doesn’t sound like she believes me.

I don’t know that I believe it myself. Coach wouldn’t have called me in on a rumor floated by a reporter. But it’s easier for me to believe that someone outside the organization is at fault. Easier to pin the blame on a stranger, than say, a friend.

Everything in my life right now is hard as hell. I have to cut down on my stress levels and sometimes the only way to do that is to lie to myself. And do it convincingly. I shove those uncomfortable thoughts out of my head and concentrate on the good that’s right in front of me.

Lainey’s a friend. A friend I like fucking. A friend I’d like to be inside right now. Her interest appears to be centered on her dinner. Each morsel she places in her mouth has to be chewed carefully and slowly. My dick grows harder by the second. She could be torturing me on purpose or, I guess there’s a remote possibility, she doesn’t realize how much she turns me on.

I can hardly be in the same room as her without springing to attention like a pre-pubescent boy. I had better control at fifteen than I do now.

I sigh and shove another piece of bread in my mouth. Her steak isn’t half gone but we’ve been sitting at this table for—I check my watch—forty-five minutes now. That’s a long time, isn’t it?

“Am I keeping you from something?” Lainey asks tartly.

Yeah, the bedroom.

“No. I’m yours for the night.”

“You worried about the upcoming season?”

She dabs at the corners of her mouth with a napkin, unintentionally drawing attention to her red lips. My eyes linger on their plushness, remembering them pressed against my skin.

Dinner’s over and the last thing I want to talk about—or think about—is the game. I want to take Lainey upstairs to the room she has reserved, strip her out of that tight black dress, and take her down on the hotel bed.

I draw a deep, impatient breath when the waiter arrives to ask if we want dessert.

“No,” I answer tersely.

Lainey raises one perfect eyebrow. Her eyes are laughing at me. She knows exactly how she affects me. “Finished so soon?”

“With dinner,” I inform her. Every torture she inflicts on me at the table will be repaid later. I’m going to make her beg. A lot.

“You promised me a dance.”

I swear she’s going to kill me. “I’m hard. I’ve been hard since last week when you first issued your invitation. I can’t dance like this.”

“You’re an athlete.” She stands and offers me her hand. “Play through the pain.”

I grit my teeth, jerk my shirt over my waist, and stand up. If she wants to dance, we’ll dance, but no one can blame me for my wandering hands or the fact that I’m going to hold her so close we might look like one body, glued together from chest to thigh.

In her sky-high heels, Lainey comes up to my chin. Her body fits snug against mine. I make no effort to hide my hard-on. It’d be impossible, even if I wanted to. Which I don’t.

“Why the torture?” I whisper into her perfect, shell-shaped ear.

“We’ve never danced together.”

“We’ve never eaten at The Crescent Club either.” My hand drifts down her waist to settle at the top curve of her sweet ass. “Lots of firsts tonight.”

“Not our first time, though.”

No. Not our first time, or our third, or our last. I wonder if I’ll ever get enough of Lainey. If I do find Ms. Ordinary and Normal and marry her, will I still think about Lainey? In the dark hours of the night, alone and on the road, will I itch to call Lainey like I did all last season?

“When are you moving?” I ask in desperation. I don’t like how she has me gripped in the palm of her hand, even if she doesn’t know it.

She stiffens and I almost wish I hadn’t said a thing. “Soon.”

The finality in the word bothers me. “But you’ll be able to come back into town.”

“Now and then.” The steel rod is back in her spine. I can feel it through the silk of her dress and in the space she’s put between us.

I remind myself the distance is good. We should fuck, but not fall in love. That’s my motto, at least.

“Good. You should tell me when you’re in town and I’ll leave tickets for you.”

“Sure.” But it sounds like she’d rather have her teeth pulled. Out of the blue, she says, “Do you remember what happened after our first time?”

“Yeah.” I want to tug on my collar at that uncomfortable memory.

“You thought I was married because I had to run out and attend to my sick kid. Instead of asking me about it, you told me you didn’t do married women and not to come back.”

“That wasn’t my best moment,” I admit.

“And after,” she continues, almost as if I’m not even here, “you made out with that catalog model at Stacks for like two hours.”

“It wasn’t even five minutes.”

“You were liplocked so long, we thought we’d need a crow bar to pry you apart.”

I’d been drunk. I was a rookie and the backup with no reason to think I’d be starting. Lainey had blown me off after finding out I was a friend of Charlie’s. “I didn’t go home with her, if you remember. Charlie got sick and I took her home.”

“I know. I thought you slept with Charlie that night.”

“You did?”

“Nick, everyone thought you and Charlie were a thing. You used her as your excuse all the time to brush off the women.”

“I never brushed you off.” I bury my nose in her lemon-scented hair. “Why are we fighting?”

“I don’t want to fight either.”

“Lainey, you brought me here. Tell me what you want. I want to give it to you.” I’m the one begging now.

She hesitates, a miniscule, momentary pause, but I’m holding her so tight that I can feel every inhale and exhale. I hold my breath, afraid she’s about to tell me she’s leaving now and this dinner, this dance, is it for me. Then she sighs with her whole body and whispers against my throat. “You, I want you. Tonight.”

My grip grows tighter than it should around her waist. “That’s what I want too.”

The post Chapter Twenty-five appeared first on Author Jen Frederick.