Chapter 9
Chapter
Nine
Austin
We sit in the bath together, and it’s so intimate and beautiful. The water is warm, scented with sandalwood bath salts. Liv’s long hair is up in a messy topknot and I’m sliding a soapy sponge over her back, and goddamn, I could get used to a life like this.
“Liv,” I start. “I’d like to take you out. Tomorrow night.”
“Like a date?”
“Exactly like a date.”
“With me?”
I let out a low chuckle as I drench the sponge in more warm water for her. “Yes, you, Liv. I think you’re fucking gorgeous and it’s clear that we have some kind of insane sexual connection and I’d like to explore it.”
“Oh?”
“God, that makes it sound like I just want sex. I don’t just want sex,” I try to explain, even though I have a fucking hard-on right now. “I want to take you out for dinner. Get to know you better. Because I feel like maybe… this might be something.”
“How old are you, Austin?” she asks.
“Does it matter?”
She turns around to face me. The tub is big, but she still struggles to get under enough water to hide her beautiful breasts.
Good.
I want to see them.
Always.
If she were mine, I’d hide all her shirts and bras, so she had to walk around topless all the time.
I have a vision of me trying it, of her finding my football shirt and wearing that instead, and then me fucking her stupid in it.
“Some people will think it matters,” she says.
“Are those people in the room with us?”
She shakes her head.
“Do we give a shit about those people if we’re happy together?”
Her brow furrows, and I know I’m getting way too ahead of myself here.
“You really don’t know how old I am?” I ask.
“No.”
“You didn’t look me up on the web?”
“You’re on the web?”
I grin at her. “Yeah. But it’s kind of nice that you don’t know that.” I lean back against the tub, draping my arms over the edge. “Liv, do you even know who I am?”
“Yeah. You’re Austin Adams. You play sports.”
I can’t help the laugh that rattles through me. “Liv. I play football. In the NFL.”
“Oh?”
“When you… came over yesterday, you didn’t know who I was?”
“No.”
“You didn’t just jerk me off because I’m kind of famous?”
“What? No! I didn’t even know you were kind of famous! I jerked you off because?—”
I raise an eyebrow at her.
“Because I wanted to.”
“I just turned thirty,” I tell her. “And you’re what? Like thirty-five?”
She looks relieved. Like she thought I was younger.
“Something like that,” she replies with a shrug.
“I’ve always found older women attractive,” I say, giving her what I hope is a reassuring smile.
Liv is amazing, but she’s also complicated. One minute she’s nervous and unsure of herself, the next, she’s gripping my head and shoving my face into her pussy.
But hey, I am not complaining.
“How did you become a masseuse?” I ask.
“When I was young, I always wanted to work in advertising in New York City.”
“Yeah?”
She lets out a sad laugh. “Instead, I married my high school sweetheart and spent the best years of my life supporting his dreams. I didn’t have a lot of options or much money, but there was a job opening for a masseuse at our small-town nail salon where a friend of mine worked.
She put in a good word for me, and they let me work there while I did my training.
We moved to Howling Ridge for Steven’s work about ten years ago, and I got a job at the resort. ”
“You like working here?”
She nods. “Yeah. I work with the best people.” She nudges my calf with her toes. “And the clients are pretty decent too,” she says with a sexy smile.
Ughhh!
“So… Steven’s not in the picture anymore?”
She shakes her head. “No. He… he met someone else.” She deflates a little. “While we were still together.”
“That fucking sucks.”
“Yeah.”
“Do you have kids?”
A smile forms at the corner of her lips. “A boy. Grady.”
Suddenly my mind is reeling, imagining Liv with a fifteen-year-old kid who’s into soccer. Or worse. The Philly Renegades.
“How did you get into football?” she asks, clearly changing the subject away from her ex and her kid.
“I was shit at everything else,” I laugh.
“I grew up in Philly. I sucked at school. Mom worked three jobs. Dad was never around. I played football to let off steam. Didn’t expect to actually be good at it.
Got a scholarship, worked my damn ass off, and straight after college, I signed with the Breakers.
I’ve been playing with them ever since.”
“Your injuries,” she says. “Do they make it difficult to play?”
I slide a little deeper into the water. “Yeah.”
She just nods, and I know I don’t need to say anything else. She gets it. She knows my body. She knows I won’t be able to play for much longer.
“Retirement scares the shit out of me,” I tell her, the words I’ve never said out loud just tumbling out. “Truth is, I don’t know who I am without a ball in my hands.”
She giggles and I try to shoot her a look with a straight face.
“You’d be an awesome coach,” she says. “Or, since you’re kind of famous, you could start a business.”
“I always had this dream of distilling whiskey.”
“Yeah?”
“A place like Wildstone could use a distillery. So many rich idiots around.”
She laughs and damn. Me and Liv in a bath, talking and laughing could be my new happy place.
“You like it here?” she asks.
I grab her sexy red painted toes and pull them to my chest, massaging them. “I love it here.”
She lets out a little groan, and as much fun as I’m having here in this luxury tub getting to know her, I also can’t wait to get out and throw her onto the bed and fuck her stupid.
“The resort would go nuts for that whiskey idea,” she says through a soft moan.
“Would you do my advertising?”
She shrugs. “When my hands give up on me and I can no longer massage hot football players, I might go back to school. If that ever happens, you can be my first client.”
“Deal.”
“Tomorrow night,” I start. “I can meet you in the hotel bar when you’re done with work?”
She shakes her head. “Not here. They don’t like the staff to socialize at the hotel.”
“Okay. You name a place and time. I’ll be there.”
“Howler’s bar. It’s in Howling Ridge. It’s kind of a dive, but it’s fun and always full of good people.”
“Sounds perfect.”
“Eight o’clock?”
“It’s a date,” I tell her, squeezing her toes.
“Does that mean this isn’t a date?” she asks playfully.
“I guess it kind of is,” I say with a laugh. “And if it is a date, would you want to come back to my hotel room and?—?”
“Yes,” she says with a dirty grin.
“Good, because I’ve been loving getting to know you, Liv, but I’m also so hard I think I’m going to fucking die if I don’t get inside you,” I growl.
“Give me a few minutes to get ready?” she asks.
“Sure. What’s your drink?”
“White wine.”
“Take your time. I’ll order some room service.”
“I’ll meet you in the bed,” she says, biting her lip.
I grin back at her and pull myself out of the bath, not even bothering to hide my massive hard-on as I throw a towel around my waist. I make my way into the kitchen, whistling to myself as I search for glasses and choose a mini bottle of white wine for Liv and red for me.
I wander back into the living area and peruse the room service menu.
I’m just hanging up the phone after ordering when I hear my hotel room door slam shut.
“Liv?”
I check the bedroom and the bathroom, but she’s not there.
She just fucking left?
Then I notice the robe I’d wrapped around her lying on the bed.
And then I see my wedding ring still sitting on the nightstand.
Oh fuck.