Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
CHELSEY
Matt’s lips were so soft against mine, yet I felt like my heart was about to explode. It pounded madly against my ribcage, aching and desperate for more, not nearly as afraid as it should be.
But logically, in my mind, I was scared. My heart might still want Matt with a fury I never would’ve expected, but my brain knew better.
That way lay heartbreak.
And what on earth were we doing, kissing where anyone could see us?
Yes, most of his teammates had left and only the cleaning staff remained, but all it would take was for one person to notice us and my career could go up in flames.
I pulled away, grabbed his hand, and dragged him into Lewis’s examination room. He snatched his duffel bag and brought it with us. Lewis had already left, so the room was empty. I shut the door behind us, so we’d be able to talk without anyone overhearing, and then dropped his hand.
“Should I not have done that?” Matt asked, his eyebrows beetled together, forehead furrowed with concern. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
I growled. “Ugh, it isn’t fair that you’re so sweet in that gruff way of yours and that you aren’t acting like a jerk when you were right.” I gave his chest a little shove, not hard enough to move him, but he backed up anyway. “Why can’t you be a jerk? That would make things so much easier.”
He stared at me, his head slightly cocked, looking utterly confused.
“I’m sorry. I can be a jerk if you’d like, but you’re already angry with me, and I feel like that would make it worse.
” He took another step back, creating more space between us.
I should have liked that, but for some reason, it irritated me. “And what was I right about?”
“Waiting to see what happened rather than being aggressively proactive about the Delacrue situation.” I huffed, reluctant to continue, but it needed to be said.
“If I’d insisted on putting out that press release, there’s a chance the commissioner might have reacted poorly, and it would have been for nothing since Tia—bless her—didn’t print a word about the argument. ”
Why was he so far away when I wanted to be in his arms?
“So…it all worked out for the best?” His blue eyes glittered with desire and something else—relief, maybe? Between that and the ragged heave of his broad chest, I had no chance of resisting him. “Isn’t that good? I, uh, have to admit, I’m not too sure what you want, so you’ll have to tell me.”
With a sigh, I pulled him close and kissed him.
His lips were warm against mine and as I inhaled, the familiar scent of liniment filled my nose.
A sense of nostalgia wrapped around me like a hug.
He always used to smell of liniment after his games.
Sometimes, I’d even been the one to rub it into the places he couldn’t reach.
I’d liked helping him in such an intimate way.
He tore his mouth from mine, panting heavily. “I’m getting mixed messages.”
I groaned and buried my face against his chest as a lump lodged in the back of my throat. I felt guilty for confusing him, but I couldn’t seem to help it. I was sending mixed messages because I had mixed emotions.
I’d always been attracted to him, and the sides of himself he’d shown me lately—helpful, reliable, thoughtful—only deepened that attraction, but I’d had years to build walls between us, and I knew every possible reason why kissing him was a bad idea. Those barriers wouldn’t just disappear.
“I feel like communication is something we both need to work on,” I admitted, drawing back enough to look him in the eyes.
“So many of our issues stemmed from not properly explaining our perspectives and our actions. So here goes: I’m attracted to you.
I always have been. But I’m scared to want you.
I’m worried about where it might lead and what might happen if my heart gets involved. ”
His face fell. “You don’t want to want me because you don’t trust me.” He sounded desolate and I hated that, but also? I couldn’t deny it. “I get that. If you want me to, I’ll back off. I’d hate myself if I pushed you into anything you aren’t ready for.”
My chest tightened. How the hell was I supposed to resist him when he looked so damn sincere?
His eyes lit up whenever he saw me as if I were the best thing he’d ever seen, and he’d been silently pleading for my attention since I’d started this job, with the gifts and offers of help and support every time I needed it.
It was difficult to convince myself that he was a jerk when he kept being so sweet.
“Fuck it.”
I touched my lips to his, swallowing his gasp and plastering myself to his front. His muscles were just as firm as I remembered, which was hardly surprising, considering all I’d seen of him lately. The man had picked me up, for crying out loud.
His palms landed on my hips, scalding me through the fabric of my tank top. I’d been cold earlier but not anymore. He guided me backward until I hit the wall and sandwiched me between that and his hard body.
His lips never left mine. He kissed me as if he’d been starving for it, all tongues and hands and shared breath, making small, hungry sounds in the back of his throat. My mind spun, and even if I’d wanted to be sensible, it was impossible to do so while being consumed by Matt Matthews.
But then, suddenly, he pulled back and dropped to his knees. I stared down at him, my eyes wide as he sat back on his haunches and gulped for air. His lips, red and slightly puffy, parted on a breath, and he reached for the front of my jeans.
“Can I?” he panted, his shoulders rising and falling with each inhale and exhale. “Please? I’ve missed the taste of you so much.”
Um, what?
I blinked, then flicked my cheek to rouse myself from whatever this stupor was. Was Matt actually kneeling at my feet, begging to put his mouth on me?
If so, was I prepared to say no?
I was hesitant, sure. Reluctant to trust him again. But this wouldn’t necessarily be that. It was just a little release of pent-up energy. Perhaps some much-needed closure.
Yeah, right.
Nevertheless, that didn’t stop me from nodding or unzipping my jeans and shoving them down over the swell of my ass. My underwear followed.
“Fuck, baby.”
He gazed at my pussy as if it held the secret to nirvana, and my face heated. I wanted to look away from him, embarrassed by how I’d exposed myself and wondering belatedly if my body had changed much from what he remembered and, if so, whether it was for better or worse.
Yet I couldn’t bring myself to close my eyes or stare at the wall on the other side of the room like I knew I should if I wanted to protect my heart. Instead, I studied the colors of his hair, which were even more impressive from this angle.
“Your hair is incredible,” I told him.
He grabbed the waistband of my jeans and peeled them farther down my legs, uncovering my legs down to mid-calf. “I can keep it like this.”
He ran his hands up my legs and I whimpered, the touch setting my nerves alight. I was glad I’d shaved this morning. I couldn’t imagine how embarrassing it would have been if I’d been behind on self-care, as sometimes happened.
“I like it both ways.”
Gripping my thighs, he gently urged them to part—not enough to trap me in my jeans, but enough to grant him access. He planted a kiss at the top of my sex and nuzzled it a little, as if it were a kitten. I frowned, about to complain, when his tongue darted out and licked a stripe down my center.
My hips jerked, and my breath caught in my chest. I pressed myself to the wall and reminded myself not to get carried away. But then he trailed sweet little kisses from the top of my bikini line down, and it became harder to recall why I was trying to be sensible.
If he’d just buried his head behind my thighs, it might have been easier to remember who, exactly, was doing this to me and why it was a terrible idea, but each gentle kiss and moment of tenderness he bestowed upon me wreaked havoc on my self-control.
Once he’d peppered every inch of my exposed skin with kisses, his tongue finally delved deeper. I leaned against the wall behind me and let it support my weight as he wedged his shoulders between my thighs and hummed his approval as he licked and toyed with me.
“You taste so good,” he murmured against me, the vibrations sending a pulse of pleasure through me. “So sweet. So fucking right.”
I closed my eyes and tipped my head back, unable to look at him any longer.
That didn’t deter him.
No matter how many years had passed, he knew exactly how to make my body sing. He drove me higher until I had to bite into my forearm to hide my whimpers. Even then, he had no mercy.
“This is for you,” he whispered, and somehow, I was able to hear him despite the pounding of my pulse in my ears. “I’m yours.”
I shook my head, silently disagreeing, but when he fastened his mouth over me and wave after wave of pleasure cascaded through me, it was impossible to deny that some part of me always had and always would belong to him.
And that terrified me.
As my orgasm receded and my brain functioned again, an icy knot formed in my chest.
Oh my God. I’d had sex with Matt.
My ex.
A player on the team I worked for.
At best, it was stupid of me to let this happen with the guy who’d already let me down once before. At worst, it was glaringly unprofessional and, if someone caught us, it could blacken my name in the sports industry.
If this got out, other teams might hesitate to hire me, especially if there were other options who didn’t have a track record of sleeping around.
I looked down at Matt, words of denial on my lips, but then I stopped. He looked wrecked. His lips were puffy and damp, his cheeks splotched with pink, and his eyes were a gut punch of emotions. So many swirled in them that I didn’t dare name.
My gaze journeyed downward to the hard bulge visible behind the fly of his jeans and it was only then that I realized he hadn’t gotten anything from this.
He’d made me come, but he hadn’t done the same, and much as it would be polite of me to offer to return the favor, I wasn’t sure I could bring myself to get on my knees for him.
That was a level of vulnerability beyond what I was capable of right now.
As if realizing this, Matt wiped his mouth on the back of his arm and clambered to his feet. He swayed slightly, as if he’d gotten up too quickly, and steadied himself with a hand on the wall beside me.
“You don’t have to do anything,” he rasped.
His pupils were blown, and I felt a pang of guilt. He was turned on. Was I just going to leave him without relief? Was that using him? I didn’t want to be the kind of person who used others and then threw them away.
If possible, his face became even redder. “You were so hot, I couldn’t help myself.”
“I…don’t understand,” I admitted, but then noticed the wet spot forming over the bulge in his jeans and my hand flew to my mouth.
He’d been so turned on by going down on me that he’d come in his pants.
Why was that so hot?
Perhaps because it lent credence to his claim not to have been with anyone since me. After all, if he’d had sex recently, he wouldn’t have been on such a hair trigger, right?
My cheeks burned, and I wasn’t sure if it was with some kind of twisted pleasure at being the subject of such desire or if it was from the awkwardness of the moment.
Matt opened his mouth as if to speak, but then there was a faint noise right outside the door and we both froze. My heart raced and I stayed as still and as silent as I could, waiting to hear more.
Was someone about to come in? Had we been found out?