Chapter 5
. . .
Will
Four days after my “business” meeting with Drew, I’ve got an inbox full of unanswered emails from her and a to-do list into next week.
Why would anyone need to know my entire events schedule for the next twelve months? Hell, aside from conditioning and practice, I don’t know what I’m doing this weekend.
It’s tempting to ignore her completely and claim all her emails fell into my Spam folder—and I’d do it if I thought she’d let me get away with it. Professional Drew is intense and committed and, to be honest, kind of fucking intimidating.
“Will, hi. It’s nice to meet you at last.” Standing by a massage bed in the center of a therapy room, a blonde-haired woman smiles warmly at me.
Remembering the introduction email she sent a couple of days back, her name is Candice, and she is my appointed physical therapist, or PT, for the season.
Fuck.
She’s hot and absolutely the type of girl I would take home with me if I got the chance.
Is there not a male PT who can touch my groin? Getting a hard-on during a massage is not the kind of first impression I want to set.
Professional. Act professional, William.
Rolling my shoulders back, I stride toward Candice and hold out a hand for her to take.
But when I see pink creeping beyond the open collar of her white polo shirt, I’m tempted to think that my attraction is reciprocated.
We hold our handshake for a little longer than normal before Candice pulls away and clears her throat.
“So, I figure we can use today’s session to get to know each other, and then we can create a pre- and postgame routine based on what feels good for you.”
You wrapped around me all night would feel pretty damn good.
I zone out for a beat and come to, realizing that she’s asking me to look through and sign off on some paperwork.
I hop onto the bed and take the clipboard from her, scanning the words on the page, although not really digesting them.
A fingernail points to the dotted line at the bottom.
“From studying your initial medical assessment, I built in some additional targeted soft-tissue stretches and trigger-point therapies to help relieve the tightness you’ve been experiencing in your groin region.”
I swallow hard and close my eyes.
Pro-fucking-fessionalism.
“Yeah,” I say, signing where indicated and handing her the clipboard. “Toward the end of last season, the college trainers had to work overtime with me to reduce inflammation.”
Her eyes drop to my dick, and I’m considering my fastest route out of here.
“It’s not unusual for players who pick up a lot of ice time throughout the whole season to identify areas of physical weakness. I’m guessing yours is right here?”
Without much warning, she presses two fingers into my left groin, and I clench my jaw.
“Yep. That’s definitely my weakness.”
Candice relaxes her fingers. “How much stretching do you do at home?” she questions, hands propped on her hips.
“Because you’re knotted up pretty bad, and I’m concerned you’re at an increased risk of injury.
Plus, without regular massages, your recovery will be slower since the blood flow will be hindered. ”
It’s not fucking hindered right now—I can promise you that.
I lift a shoulder and try to get a goddamn grip on myself.
Banging the PT is a direct breach of my contract and punishable for us both.
If people find out.
“I work on stretching and core stability at least six days a week, either in a team facility or my home gym.”
Candice nods a couple of times, picking up the clipboard and flipping the page to make some notes.
“I think the best course of action is to schedule an intense treatment plan over the next few weeks, from now until the regular season starts in October. I’ll also send you home with an updated stretching routine, which you should incorporate at least every other day and definitely after each practice and game. ”
She taps her pen against the clipboard, eyes falling to my gray sweatpants.
“Would you mind if I got a better feel?”
I practically swallow my tongue. I’d pin this girl as in her mid-twenties, and she definitely isn’t wearing a ring on her left finger.
Swiveling to lie down flat on the bed, I hook my thumbs beneath the waistband of my pants and push them down to my knees, kicking off my white Nike sneakers.
Candice stares at me, open-mouthed.
Shit.
“You want to feel my groin, right?” I clarify.
A slow smile creeps across her face. Jesus, she thinks I’m cute and not at all sexy.
“Yeah, I do. But I usually step out of the room so my patient can undress in private.”
Like I ran for a bus but missed it and now I’m trying to play it off as a random light jog, I continue pushing my sweatpants down until they’re pooled at the end of the bed.
“I’m not shy when it comes to shit like that.”
I smirk up at her, and to my surprise, she fucking winks at me.
Hell yes.
Placing a fluffy white towel over my legs, she rests it at the top of my thighs and carefully presses her fingertips into the offending area.
“From what I understand, you aren’t shy about much, Will.”
I dig my fingernails into my palm when Candice’s fingers find a particularly tender area, and she begins massaging the knot that’s formed there.
“I’m sorry you got stood up for a date the other night.” She moves toward my dick. “Some people don’t know a good thing when they see it.”
Despite a hot girl’s hands all over me and the flirtatious turn our conversation has taken, all I can think about is a dark-haired Drew berating me over dinner as she scrolled through my social media.
While I haven’t deleted the post I made, I haven’t posted anything more since that time.
I know at least one of Drew’s emails contains content for me to approve before it goes live, and I should really reply. Still, I’m struggling to accept handing over control, even if it is the right thing to do for my public image.
“Oh”—I wave a hand and wince when Candice moves to a different spot—“that was me messing around. I didn’t actually get stood up. A friend kept me waiting outside their apartment, and I was bored.”
Her brows pinch together, and who can blame her? I sound like a fucking weirdo right now.
Penance for posting bullshit on the internet, I guess.
“So … you’re not seeing anyone then?”
I pause on replying for a second and think over my options.
It’s been well over a week since I last got laid, and in William Jones’s world, that’s a fucking long time.
I decide to play with Candice a little bit.
“Do you frequently ask about your patient’s relationship status? You know, while also offering them privacy to take their clothes off?”
She flushes at that, and suddenly, I’m not Will Jones, the cute rookie, any longer. I’m the hot new Rogues forward, irresistible to the female training staff.
As it fucking should be.
“Not ordinarily,” she replies, voice a little higher than before. “But then, not everyone strips in front of me either.”
Eyes fixed, we’re locked in a game of who will speak next.
We both know this is way over the line already, and I get a hunch that Candice is not the type to flirt with players.
I should probably take the compliment and respect the boundaries set by the team. Player-staff fraternization never ends well and would undoubtedly sit at the top of Drew’s rulebook.
“I guess it’s only polite for me to ask.” I throw her a wink of my own. “What’s your current dating status?”
Drew might like to formulate a long list of rules to keep me in line, but contrary to popular opinion, I actually have some of my own.
Starting with taken women.
Before anything goes down with them, I want to know if they’re seeing someone, and if they are, I never go there.
My parents taught me a lot of things, and integrity sits at the heart of the way I was raised.
I’ve never had a girlfriend —aside from when I was in middle school and too young to understand what relationships actually were—and that’s deliberate on my part.
I like women too much, and I plan to play as hard as I work this season. Just like I did in college.
Candice shakes her head. “I actually broke up with my boyfriend a couple of months back. We were in a long-term relationship, but it just … fizzled out. These days, I’m only interested in a good time and nothing serious.”
Sitting up on my elbows, I smirk in a way that is the opposite of professional.
“Are you as good at keeping secrets as you are at working out the tension in my groin?”
Candice giggles. “I can be a vault when I need to be.”
Bracing my palms behind me on the bed, I rise up until my lips brush the shell of her ear. “Then how about you be a vault this Saturday night and do as you please with me for a few hours?”