Clean Point

31 Scottie

31

“Slut!” – Taylor Swift

Nico ran his fingertips along the soft, sensitive skin of my bare thigh, the slit of my dress leaving me exposed as we sat together in the back of the car. His gaze was pinned to the back of Jon’s head in front of him, giving absolutely nothing away.

Meanwhile, I was working extra time to keep myself composed as his hand pressed into my skin, fingers making small teasing circles as it slowly inched up the length of my thigh. I’d known this dress would come back to haunt me.

He looked incredible. Dressed in a designer black suit, the material perfectly tailored to every swell and dip of his body, accentuating the muscles of his arms, the broadness of his shoulders. Even just looking at him was a damn meal.

Nobody can see.

The words continued to echo around my head. His touch had me caving into the need, pretending like I hadn’t tried to deny him less than a week ago.

His hand reached the top of the slit, dangerously high at the top of my thigh, and his fingers slowly traced the seam, leaving delicate touches that sent shivers along my leg. The proximity of him was not lost on me. One small slip, an accidental break from the car driver, and his hand could slip much further up. I couldn’t tell if I was praying for an emergency stop or not.

‘You know the script. Make sure you walk around the room, interact with people. We don’t need to make any more enemies,’ Jon began to grumble from the front seat. Thankfully, his attention was still on his phone as he talked to us, only twisting his head so we could hear him.

Nico’s hand remained at the top of my thigh, the rough pads of his calloused hands against my skin just as intoxicating as our kiss in the hotel room had been. That had surely been a mistake, but one I hadn’t quite brought myself to regret. Not yet, anyway.

Being that close to him as I tied his bowtie, watching his throat bob as he so obviously tried to control himself. The heat burned in his eyes as he looked at me, and only me. And not to mention I’d been on edge ever since the kitchen. It had been months since I’d had any action at all. And endless practice and work with this surly, muscled giant had left me with a craving so intense I was floored by a simple look from him. There was no question I was weak for him, desperate and hungry. And this itch, the one that had been growing in intensity since yoga on the beach and running through Lindos in the rain, only to erupt all over a kitchen counter … Well, I was primed for a good scratching.

‘Me talking to people?’ Nico said. If he was enjoying teasing me, there was no indication, with the usual stoniness to his voice.

Jon ruminated for a moment, all the while Nico continued to draw tiny tortuous teasing loops. I almost counted them in my head alongside my breaths, one hand on the handle of the passenger door as if it were my grip on the situation. ‘You stay silent. Let Scottie do the talking.’

I could barely maintain my composure, let alone form a sentence.

My gaze locked with Nico’s, a cocky grin spread wide on his lips. ‘Because there’s no issue with that plan.’

I swallowed, before trying my best to keep my voice level, not letting on to anyone in the car of the heat building between my legs, the need and anticipation rising. ‘I’m not sure I enjoy that implication.’

‘I’m sure you’ll find a way to deal.’ Then his fingers achingly slid under the hem of the slit, pushing up the sparkling material. My cheeks burned red as I readjusted, trying to give him more access while also slyly placing my small handbag on top of my knees, to hide from any prying eyes.

His fingers slid under the material, and my eyes closed as I tried to bottle up this feeling, this desperate need for him. I attempted to find my control in the situation, but that was long gone. My lips parted, hand clenching the satin material of the handbag as I held it in place, waiting and waiting for his fingers to graze at my centre. The feel of his hand up my skirt, exploring high up my thigh, nearly drove me to the edge itself.

I needed his touch. I fought the urge to move my hips again, slide down the seat and move him along already. But it would be too obvious, too exposed, so I didn’t dare move an inch, instead focusing on my breathing, keeping it level and stifling every noise that threatened to erupt the moment he touched me again.

His hand moved over my thigh, my legs automatically parted for him. A hiss of breath escaped him as he slowly inched up, the slit of my dress fully spread open, one leg out. Then suddenly, I felt his body freeze and stiffen beside me.

‘Fuck,’ he swore, his voice barely audible. Barely but enough that when the radio fell silent at the same time, the entire car heard. Quicker than I realized a person could move, his hand was gone, and my legs pressed back together.

‘What was that?’ Jon asked, a wild panic taking over me as my face burned red hot.

‘Just something I saw on my phone. It’s nothing.’ Nico’s reply was suspiciously fast, but Jon must’ve had bigger fish to fry, and his attention soon turned back to his own phone, his fingers typing away furiously.

I managed to look at Nico and found his gaze already on me. I noted the shock, his gaze wild as he searched my face for an answer to a question he had not yet asked. Nervously, he licked his lips, glancing to the front of the car where Jon was locked in a conversation with the driver about the traffic. He leaned over, closing the gap between us. I leaned in, brows furrowed together. He met me in the middle, his lips at my ear.

‘Are you …’ he started speaking, before he pulled back a little, letting out a breath as he blinked, trying to collect himself. He pulled in again, his voice low, even with the closeness.

When he finally spoke, a cruel smile curled onto my lips, a reminder of what I’d left behind in my hotel room, my stylist having forgotten to bring one crucial essential when it came to a dress like this.

‘Are you not wearing underwear?’

And then, with nothing more than a knowing smile, a crook of a raised eyebrow, we pulled up outside the venue, a crowd of photographers waiting beside a short red carpet. The door next to me was opened from the outside, just as Jon shouted further instructions to us about conducting interviews, but I was still looking at him, and he sure as hell was still looking at me.

I leaned close again, taking in the smell of his aftershave, allowing myself to bask in the scent for a moment before I took my own chance to whisper in his ear.

‘I guess you can find out later.’ And then I slipped out of the car, my legs shaking slightly under my weight as I was greeted by the flash of a camera, and the roar of a nearby crowd of fans. After a tiny adjustment, I walked confidently away, a wide satisfied grin on my face, knowing that his eyes were still burning into me as I left him.

There wasn’t much opportunity for anything more once we were inside, with Jon shepherding us around various sponsors and reporters, all but holding our hands through the conversations.

But we did as we were told. I turned on the charm, smiling and laughing at their jokes, while Nico stood beside me, almost entirely silent unless spoken to. The small talk was almost unbearable, ranging from the placid ‘yes, it’s so exciting to play at a grand slam again’ to the more strange ‘no, I haven’t tried that strange foreign vitamin you’re suggesting would enhance my performance’. Either way, eventually Jon would find a friendly excuse to exit and move us on to the next group. Apparently, he had a list.

That was when, while we shuffled through the busy room, making our way past friendly and unfriendly faces alike, Nico would lean into my ear and whisper little grumpy observations.

‘I didn’t think he would ever stop talking.’

‘I’m sure that pack of old women was checking me out.’

‘When do you think he will remember that he uses that vitamin for erectile dysfunction?’

Every time he’d have me laughing, distracting me from the room full of people waiting to take their slice, recharging me for another social interaction. I could feel the ghost of his hand on the small of my back, both of us needing the touch but not daring to risk it in such a public place.

‘Have you noticed I was right?’ he whispered in my ear as we moved away yet again, the noise of my forced laughter still ringing in the air as we turned away.

‘About what?’ I asked, trailing behind our coach, brows furrowed.

He smiled, his eyes connecting with mine for a moment. ‘That you’re the most beautiful person in this room.’

My brain short-circuited at the reminder of his words from before, body aching to feel his against mine again. I didn’t have any time to respond before I was colliding into someone else’s back. Nico’s arm pulled me back, holding me steady and allowing me to find my footing.

‘I’m so sorry,’ I stammered, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment, my grip on the champagne glass miraculous. I looked up, my eyes finding the familiar face of Imogen Foster. On instinct, I gulped.

Foster was a legend. Holding the highest number of Grand Slam wins of any player, period. I’d grown up watching her matches, been inspired by her delicate movements on the French and Spanish clay courts, the battleground where her talent excelled the most. I’d met her once before, in passing with my father, but seeing her now, ten years retired, she was still intimidating.

Her dark eyes were assessing, as if to recognize me too, before a flicker of kindness appeared as she chuckled, her Australian accent clear. ‘No worries at all. These gatherings can get a bit chaotic.’

Jon beckoned us yet again to another group of unfamiliar faces. I yearned to fight him off, stay a little longer but I was so shocked to see her, reduced to a fan girl that I just apologized nervously again, before turning away. Nico stayed behind me, his presence a reassuring anchor, as he also greeted Foster, before following me.

We headed toward the cluster of older men engaged with Jon who, ever the master of introductions, began the process. ‘Gentlemen, may I present Scottie and Nico, two remarkable talents in the world of tennis. Scottie is making an astonishing comeback, and Nico, well, I’m sure you’re more than familiar with him.’

The crowd looked us up and down like we were dinner. Jon went around the group, somehow knowing every single person’s name. They fell into easy conversion, Jon repeating the same jokes he’d already told ten times.

‘Scottie, is it true what they say about you?’ One of the men, who had been introduced as Alister, said with a crooked smile.

I took a long, necessary sip from my champagne. ‘I’m not sure. They say a lot of things about me.’

Nico grumbled again, his shoulder rubbing against mine. ‘Yeah, Alister, what is it they say?’

‘Just, you know, your travels around Europe. I heard you had quite a lot of fun.’ My stomach twisted uncomfortably, reading into the look that’s spread across his thin face … I could see the tabloid headlines all over again, but that didn’t matter. I had nothing to be ashamed of – not that, anyway. If this man thought he could bring it up without even a simple hello, he had another thing coming.

I smiled politely but very plainly. ‘That was a great time, but I’m happy to be back competing now.’

He leaned over, close enough that I could smell the whisky on his breath. I felt Nico’s body stiffen beside me as Jon tried to pull him into another conversation, but he only grunted a response. I knew he was still listening. I was never alone.

‘Oh, come on now, that doesn’t mean you can’t have a good time.’

I pulled away from him. ‘What makes you think I’m having a horrible time?’

Alister talked again. ‘All I’m saying is, it must be quite a bore.’

I shook my head, a smile from Nico’s joke still spread wide. ‘Not at all. I’ve got a doubles partner to keep me entertained now.’

He read my expression, obviously thinking I was laughing with him instead of at him, and his drunken confidence grew. ‘Let me buy you a drink, for old times, Scottie.’

I struggled to hold on to that edge of politeness. ‘I’m good, thanks. I’ve still got a full glass of champagne.’

‘Exactly, full. You’ve hardly touched it.’

I refused again, before holding the glass up to my lips, and took the smallest sip to satisfy him. His beady eyes watched every moment.

‘Unlike some people,’ Nico muttered.

I somehow managed to force a smile to my lips, tilting my head to my coach at the other side of the group. ‘I’m savouring it. Jon will have my neck if I show up hungover tomorrow.’

‘I insist.’ Alister’s voice rang around my skull like a headache, and I knew I had just about had enough of this ass. There was no way I would be going anywhere alone with him.

‘I’m fine,’ I snapped, before remembering Jon’s words. This was a public gala, full of people who could decide any number of things about my career. I had to behave. ‘Go get yourself something,’ I suggested politely. ‘I’ll wait here.’ I would disappear so fast he’d wonder if I’d ever actually existed.

‘Maybe I’d like the company,’ he leered, and I was too disgusted by the look he was giving me to notice his arm curling around me, pulling me into him. I yelped, trying to wiggle out of his grip. But his hold only tightened, fingers digging into my arm.

‘I suggest you keep your hands to yourself.’ Nico’s hand was instantly on my arm, thankfully pulling me out of Alister’s grasp, before stepping in front of me. And his darkened focus narrowed on Alister. ‘She said no.’

‘Nico.’ My hand found his large shoulder, urging him back, but instead he stepped closer to Alister.

‘I was only offering her a drink,’ Alister spluttered, throwing his hands up.

‘I think you’ve already had enough for all of us.’ Nico’s voice was low, the tone threatening even if the words weren’t. ‘Go find someone else to bore.’

Alister’s brows pressing together. ‘Do you know who you are talking to?’

‘Doesn’t matter who the hell you are. If you lay another fin—’

Jon interrupted, before Nico could issue his threat. ‘Alister! I have to say, have you tried the thirty-year-old Highland Park?’

Alister turned away from Nico, and faced Jon, apprehension still ringing in his voice. ‘Why, yes, I’m quite the fan.’

Jon continued acting very friendly toward Alister, stepping in front of Nico and I, his body practically a wall separating us from him. I took the moment to pull Nico back, stand alongside him, my arm wrapping around his as if to ground him to me. ‘I think, there’s a bottle behind the bar with both our names on it,’ Jon said, then his voice slowed to signal to us. ‘You know, to thank you for the deal you helped set up with ELITE.’

‘Oh, well,’ Alister grumbled, seeming a little confused, but Jon was persistent and convincing as he stepped forward, hand over the man’s shoulder and escorting him away over to the bar.

‘The last thing that man needs is another drink,’ I muttered to myself, still feeling entirely gross from the way he had touched me, his breath on my neck. I tried not to get mad that this man gets a free pass, that he could touch me and get an expensive drink as compensation. All Jon had seen was Nico getting angry at somebody who was important to the brand that had given us our meal ticket, but if he did know, would his reaction have been different?

Jon’s attention snapped my way, the warning in his eyes very clear. ‘And meanwhile, my tennis players can have a conversation between themselves about what is appropriate behaviour.’

Nico pressed forward. ‘I think Alister is due that reminder himself.’

I stepped in front of Nico, pressing my hands to his chest, looking up at him. ‘Nico. Stop.’

‘No, he was …’ Nico was full of rage, so much so that mine disappeared in order to ease his. We had just narrowly escaped making a scene; we didn’t need to try again.

‘He was what? Rude? That’s all,’ I hissed. Around me, I could feel eyes directed my way, people murmuring and trying to figure out what’s happened. His gaze found mine, the intensity in the storm of grey almost too much.

‘No, he was being a sexist asshole. How can you be so calm?’ His question left me dumbstruck, a slice of the anger I still had bubbling away under my skin very much redirected at him. I swallowed it down, washing it away with the rest of the champagne left in the flute. So much for savouring it.

I tilted my head in the opposite direction of the bar. ‘Come with me.’

I eased away slightly, but he didn’t move an inch, instead he frowned. ‘Where?’

I sighed, discarding my empty flute onto a passing waiter’s tray. I let my hand slip into his, squeezing once with persistence. ‘Just come with me.’

He turned again, watching Jon and Alister heading in the other direction toward the bar. I could sense his urge to follow, to really let that rage out of his system, but when I squeezed his hand again, his attention returned. I led us on, cutting through the busy crowd. I forced smile after smile as we passed some friendly faces, people calling our name for attention. We both made more than a few false promises to return, catch up or get a drink, and by the time we reached the edge of the crowd, my cheeks hurt from forcing a grin.

I kept walking, pulling him down a corridor, and when I thought we were far enough for the distance to be deemed safe from the crowd and any prying eyes, I opened the very first door I came across, pushed Nico inside, and closed the door behind us. Darkness and the strong stench of bleach surrounded us until I found the light switch.

Nico’s eyes searched around the dark small room, scanning shelves of cleaning products, brooms and mops propped up against the walls. ‘Why are we here?’

‘You needed a moment to calm down.’

‘I don’t get it.’ He let out a huff of air as he shook his head, the space between his eyebrows crinkling with frustration. ‘Aren’t you mad?’

‘I’m furious. But maybe you’re taking up all the oxygen, there’s none left for me.’

His eyes scanned my face, the anger in his features soothing as his frustration relented. ‘I’m sorry, Scottie, the way he spoke to you like you were …’

‘A piece of meat?’ I snipped at Nico, a little harder than I’d meant to. ‘I’m aware.’

His voice lowered, his own fury finally making way for mine, understanding what I needed. ‘Then, he touched you and I just … I lost it.’

I crossed my arms, suffocating down another bite of frustration. I didn’t want to be squabbling in a cupboard over an asshole comment that, honestly, I had practise in handling. ‘So?’

‘I didn’t like him. Really didn’t like how he spoke to you. Hated it when he thought he could touch you.’ His eyes didn’t leave mine, burning with intensity.

‘I wasn’t the biggest fan of it either. But I can handle these things myself,’ I said. I had to admit, it was nice for somebody to have my back for once, to see how easily one person could make another feel like dirt and actually step in and call them out on it. My anger smoothed out at his protectiveness, the comfort of it invaluable, but not when it put everything at risk. Nico nodded in the dim light, the ancient lightbulb above us dimming.

‘And what he was saying about Europe …’ he trailed off, the firm line of his jaw becoming more pronounced as he tried to bite down that frustration. At least he was trying.

‘He was teasing.’ I knew I was downplaying it for him, but if we got into a serious topic of all the sleazy things men had said to me since I’d grown boobs, we’d be in the cupboard all night.

‘You know what he was implying.’ For a moment, I hated the way he looked at me, his eyes soft, lips crooked in a sad smile. It was pity. Pity I didn’t want or need for a second. Something snapped, fuelled by that asshole grabbing me, by the thought that anyone thought I owed them anything because of my past.

‘That I fucked my way around Europe? The tabloids get a lot wrong, Nico, but not that. I was doing whatever and whoever I wanted. He brought it up to sleaze, which is gross, but I won’t be made to feel ashamed.’

‘You shouldn’t be. I didn’t mean it like that.’ He raised his hands, fingers spread out wide as he tried to calm the situation. ‘I’m sorry.’ I scanned his face, waiting for the judgement, the look of disgust at my admission, but it didn’t appear. Instead, there was clear regret and confusion as he carefully attempted to navigate his way through this conversation. ‘I was just …’

I raised an eyebrow, a smirk hanging on my lips as I finished his thought for him. ‘Jealous.’

‘No.’ His answer was immediate, his brows pushed together in denial. I could see it then, the realisation that I was right, the strong line of his jaw setting.

‘Liar.’ My challenge hung in the air, the line of my smile growing as the fact cemented itself as truth. I couldn’t take my eyes from his, waiting for that delicious moment where he’d finally relent. Whether it had been entirely jealousy fuelled, I couldn’t say. That man had been acting like an ass, and quite frankly, he deserved worse than being shouted at by Nico. But after the hotel room and the car, and everything else that clearly lay between us, I knew there was more to his actions than just protectiveness. I knew he wanted me. And God, did I want him, too.

His voice was a low murmur. ‘You don’t deserve to be treated like that, Scottie.’

‘I know.’

He lifted his arm, his hand hovering over the pale skin of my bicep, waving like he wanted to touch me, wanting that connection, but couldn’t quite bring himself to it. ‘You deserve better.’

‘I know that, too.’

‘I want to treat you better.’

My smile wavered with the admission, realizing that we were very much alone. Alone, in a darkened room. ‘Well … I don’t see anyone around now.’

A second passed. Then another. As if Nico’s brain was on a delay and it needed a moment to catch up with the implication of my words. And then, his control finally snapped. He stepped forward, catching me in his embrace, before his lips smashed into mine like he couldn’t bear any distance for a moment longer.