Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Josie
Big hands move down my body, cupping my breasts and making me gasp. They reach my stomach, a thumb lightly dipping into my belly button before continuing down. I can’t see a face, but I know it’s Dane. Only he could make me feel this way.
His hands stop around my hips, gripping them as he puts his face between my thighs, his warm breath on my skin forcing the air from my chest. I press my forearms to the mattress and arch my back up, trying to get closer to his mouth.
I can’t seem to talk in this dream. If I could, I’d beg him for more. I’ve never felt as much as I do right now. As much...what, I’m not even sure. I can’t see clearly and I can’t hear a thing, but what I feel is magnified many times.
The thought of him taking his hands away makes me ache. Even if this is all I get, I want him to stay. I want this closeness.
I’m awake. I breathe slowly and deeply, trying to sink back into the dream.
No luck. I’m awake now, though still aroused. The urge to go to the bathroom forces me to toss the covers aside and get out of bed.
We’re in Dallas, ending the road trip that started in Chicago. The fallout from Abigail’s social media posts has been minimal because several witnesses who were in the deli came forward to defend Dane and say that she was rude to him. Still, it’s felt like a grind to me. I don’t like the way the Mammoths’ PR people roll their eyes over Dane and assume the worst.
Just because he’s been a pain in the ass in the past doesn’t mean he never gets the benefit of the doubt. I think the entire PR department needs a dressing down about who brings in the money that pays their salaries.
That’s not my concern, though. I slowly make my way to the bathroom, running my hand along the TV stand since I can’t see anything.
Dane and I have an ongoing disagreement about leaving the bathroom light on with the door cracked. I say it keeps us from tripping over things in the middle of the night when we’re in a different room every time and need to use the bathroom; he says he can’t sleep unless there’s complete darkness. So we go back and forth.
My big toe hits a desk leg. I cringe and mutter, “Fuck you, Dane.”
I’ve had a bruise somewhere on my body since I started this gig as his overseer. I run into chairs, desks, tables and, worst of all—the legs on bed frames. Those things hurt my toes like a mother. I lost a toenail to one.
I go into the bathroom and pee, wondering why I can’t have erotic dreams about a sensible man like Lucas, who would probably have no problem with leaving the bathroom light on. After I wash my hands, I of course leave the light on and crack the door, finding my way back to bed without issue.
When I glance over at Dane’s bed, the covers are pushed back and it’s empty. I do a double take.
Empty.
What the actual fuck?
I walk over to the lights on the wall between the beds and switch one on, verifying that he is, in fact, not in bed.
I turn into that red guy from Inside Out , flames shooting from my head. I’m going to end his life with my bare hands.
When I pick up my cell phone to make sure there’s not a text about an emergency with one of his teammates, my hand is shaking. He could have woken me up if there was an emergency.
There’s no text.
I get dressed, not knowing where I’m going or how I’ll get there. All his talk about my cute nose and how beautiful I am. If I find him with another woman, I’m going to...
My eyes well with tears and I laugh bitterly. Not that. I will not cry if I find him with another woman.
Get it together, Josie. Do your job.
That’s the problem. I no longer know where my job ends and my personal feelings begin. I do know I’m on such thin ice with Jane that if Dane gets any bad publicity, I could easily get fired.
I can’t afford that. Whether or not I deserve to be at the top of my aunt’s shit list, I am.
The Mammoths players often hang out in hotel lobbies or bars when they return after going out from games. I’ll go down and see if anyone has seen or heard from Dane.
I check the time on my phone on the way out the door, 2:48 a.m. That’s very late for anyone to be hanging out, but it’s the only idea I have. If I don’t find anyone, I’ll start blowing Dane’s phone up with texts.
If he’s not on the team plane in the morning for the flight home, it’ll be both of our asses.
When the elevator doors open into the hotel lobby, a man mopping the marble floor steps aside to make way for me.
“Excuse me,” I say, veering to the left to stay on the dry part of the floor.
The spacious lobby is pretty much deserted. I check the lounge areas, finding them empty.
My stomach churns with a mix of anger and frustration. We’re supposed to leave for the airport at five forty-five. If I don’t find him, am I supposed to get on the plane without him?
There’s a “Closed” sign in front of the hotel restaurant and bar, but I walk past it to check the seats. On the last barstool, Dane’s sitting with his arms folded in front of him on the bar, a bottle of water sitting off to the side.
“Hey,” he says as I approach, all casual, like he didn’t just spike my adrenaline.
I arch my brows. “Hey. Thanks for sending me into a panic.”
“I can’t sit by myself and drink some water?”
I knit my brows together. “Of course you can, but”
“Only if I ask you first?”
“Just tell me.”
He scoffs, a smile tugging on the corners of his lips. “I didn’t want to wake you up. And we both know if I told you I needed some air, you’d be like, What? Where? With who? I’ll come with you.”
I sniff and turn away, offended. “Sorry my presence is so annoying.”
He laughs lightly. “You don’t annoy me. I just couldn’t sleep and I felt like brooding alone.”
“Over what?”
He’s quiet for a couple of seconds before answering. “The game. I made some stupid mistakes and we would have won if I’d been smarter.”
The Mammoths lost 3–2 last night, But Dane never mentioned anything after the game about feeling responsible for it. He just seemed quiet and down, which is always the case after a loss.
“Everyone makes mistakes,” I say.
“Yeah, but this is a big fucking stage to make mistakes on.”
“It still happens.”
He picks up his water and sips it, looking straight ahead. “I miss my bed. I’m glad we’re going home tomorrow.”
“Did your teammates make you feel bad about the mistakes?”
“No, there was only one that anyone other than me noticed.”
“Don’t tell me you’re secretly humble,” I crack. “You’ll shatter my image of you as a cocky, overconfident narcissist.”
He laughs, smiling a genuine smile. “Nah, I’m a cocky prick for sure. I just hate letting my team down.”
When he reaches for the nearly empty bowl of cocktail peanuts, I move it away before his hand gets to it.
“You might as well just cut out the middleman and go lick the inside of a toilet,” I say.
He scoffs. “I already ate a bunch of them. Why stop now?”
“You don’t really want these stale, germ-infested peanuts. You’re emotionally eating them.”
“Would you prefer I emotionally drink a bottle of whiskey?”
He leans closer to me, stretching his arm in an effort to reach the peanut bowl, but I move it farther away.
“I think you should go back to bed. We have an early flight.”
His eyes darken. “Can I get in your bed?”
Warmth surges into my chest as I remember my dream. His hands on my skin. Our closeness. Everything about it was right.
“Is that really what you want?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper.
He glances at his phone, sighing heavily when he sees the time. “When do we have to leave?”
“We have to be down for breakfast at five fifteen.”
His eyes narrow, the heat seeping away, replaced by aggravation.
“Then no.”
I yawn and slide off my stool. “I’m going back to bed. Are you coming up or staying here?”
“I’ll stay. I won’t be able to sleep.”
“Is there anything I can do before I go to make you feel better?”
The corners of his lips turn up in a grin. “A kiss would be nice.”
I smile back. “I’d be all over it if you didn’t have toilet germs in your mouth.”
He groans. “I’ll brush my teeth before we leave so we can snuggle on the plane.”
“Are we snugglers?”
Lately, we fly with our sides pressed together, my head often on his shoulder and his hand often on my thigh. We usually have a blanket covering us, so I think of it like what happens under the blanket, stays under the blanket .
“Yep,” he confirms.
Something inside me softens as I look at him, his hair sticking up and dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep. Dane pretends nothing gets to him, but it’s not the truth.
I step closer, inches away from him. I gently rearrange the sections of his hair that are sticking straight up, his eyes on my face as I do it.
“Did you see the Gandalf meme about me? Over the Abigail thing?” he asks.
“I missed that one.”
“Apparently I’m Anal Gandalf now. You shall not ass .”
I burst out laughing. “Now I have to look that up as soon as I go upstairs.” I cup his cheek in my hand. “Good night, Anal Gandalf.”
“Night, Josie.”