Interference (Walker University #4)

Prologue

Aloud knocking sound wakes me from my slumber. Turning over, I look at my phone.

Two thirteen a.m.

I groan as I pull myself out of bed. I only have two hours before I have to get up. As I pull myself out of my bedroom, I see my friend and roommate’s door open.

“It’s for me,” I whisper at her.

She gives me a small glare but shuts her door.

I don’t blame her. Sleep is important, and we don’t get nearly enough of it.

When I finally get to the door, I open it to find the ridiculously attractive and charming Brett Woods standing there.

“It’s past two in the morning, Brett. I need my sleep.”

He gives me a small smile. “I missed you, buttercup.”

I roll my eyes at the nickname. It’s what he has called me since we met, and I have no idea why. I used to think it was a term he used with all girls because he couldn’t remember their names, but I have never heard him use it with anyone else.

“Brett,” I growl.

His smile drops.

“I got the all-clear to get back on the ice,” he tells me.

Despite the late hour, happiness rolls through me. I know how badly he’s missed playing. I can’t imagine not getting on the ice every day.

“That’s good. Really good actually. Why are you here telling me?” I ask.

“You wound me, Em.” His smile drops. “I…”

When he trails off, I huff out a breath. This isn’t what we are. We aren’t a couple who shares all of our secrets. We are the secret. The side thing we do to make us both feel better even though we know it’s wrong.

I should be focused on my skating career. I want to go for the gold at the next Olympics. The only way to do that is to forget all the distractions and make it my only concern.

Yet, I find myself opening my door a little more.

“Just come in,” I huff. “You can stay for the night, but you can’t keep doing this, Brett. We aren’t a couple.”

“We could be,” he whispers.

“No. We couldn’t. You are literally the biggest playboy I have ever met, and you have your hockey to focus on. I have my skating. Let’s not make things more complicated than they are,” I tell him.

“Okay.” He forces a smile as he sweeps past me.

I close the door and lock it before following him to my room. He strips as soon as he gets there.

“I said sleep, Brett.” I move around the bed and climb on the side I normally sleep on.

“My balls get sweaty if I sleep in clothes. Does it bother you? I mean, we have fucked before, so it’s not like you haven’t seen it.”

He makes a good point, but I am too tired to deal with him right now.

“Go to bed, Brett.”

I feel him climb in on the other side. A peacefulness that wasn’t there before settles in me as he moves behind me to become the big spoon.

After several minutes of silence, sleep eludes me. Knowing I will never get back to sleep at this point, I ask the question I know I shouldn’t.

This isn’t us.

“Why are you not happy about getting on the ice again?” I whisper into the silence.

He takes so long to answer me that I think he must have fallen asleep. Then he finally speaks.

“What if it happens again? What if next time it kills my entire career and I lose everything I love?”

My heart aches for him as much as it did when I first found out about his injury. As a figure skater, I know how he feels. One injury can be career-ending. I have spent my entire life building up to this goal, and to have it snatched away?

I understand him more than he knows. The thought is scary as hell.

Turning over in his arms, I cup his cheek. “You can’t stay off the ice forever because you think you might lose it. If you do that, then you’ve already lost it. You see that, right?” I ask him.

He nods, his forehead falling to mine. “I don’t know what to do anymore. I just want to forget all about it and be happy.”

It’s an admission I don’t think he would have made in the light of day, but in the moonlight of my room he lets the words spill from his lips. It’s so raw. So real. I can’t help but want to make him feel better.

That’s the problem with Brett Woods. No matter how much I know I should stay away from him, he is like an energy that keeps sucking me in. Whenever I’m around him, I can’t help but gravitate toward him.

“Why did you come here tonight?” I ask him.

His eyes fall closed. “I wanted to fall asleep next to you so I didn’t feel like my life was completely falling apart. You’re the only one that makes me feel that way. Like this little bubble we are in keeps the outside world out.”

This is why I shouldn’t see him. He says these words and makes me want things that never mattered to me before. He makes me want to give in and see if we could give the relationship thing a chance.

I can’t though. Not if I want that gold medal.

I’ll give him the next best thing, though. I’ll give him whatever parts of me I can spare for the time being.

Leaning into him, I press my lips to his. It’s a sweet, soft kiss. One that is trying to tell him I’m here for him now. That I won’t let him fall apart, at least not tonight.

He matches my kiss, his hand coming to my hip to hold me steady. It doesn’t take long for our kiss to heat up. It borders the line between indecent and passionate. My pussy is burning up from the little bit of affection.

Pulling off my sleep shorts, I push him onto his back before straddling him.

“I thought we weren’t doing this,” he says as he looks up at me.

Usually there would be a cocky look on his face. It would lead to some rough and wild sex that would make my body ache in a delicious way, but not tonight.

Tonight he has a vulnerable look in his eye. He wants me. I can tell by his hard cock, but he isn’t in the headspace for hard sex.

So I’ll give him something we haven’t done. I’ll go slow and show him how good it can be for once.

Lifting my hips, I position him at my entrance. Then I slide slowly down his hard cock. He groans, his hands on my hips.

“You feel so good,” he tells me.

It’s something he says a lot, so I don’t know if I believe it, but I know he feels good. No matter how many times we have had sex, it has felt like this. As if he couldn’t possibly fit even though he does every single time.

I don’t say a word to him. Instead, I use his chest to steady myself with my hand as I begin to rotate my hips. I keep a slow, steady pace, my eyes on his the entire time. His are glazed over with arousal as he watches me as much as I watch him.

It’s an erotic moment in a different way. It’s almost as if we were making love or something, but that can’t be right. I don’t love him, and he doesn’t love me.

Still, there is a connection here that we have never had before. It feels tantric. As if part of him is speaking to a part of me I didn’t know existed.

When I finally come, he is right there with me, spilling his cum inside of me. It’s warm. Wet. Not like I imagined it would be.

When I pull off of him, I lie down next to him.

“We didn’t use a condom,” he whispers.

I nod. “I know. We are covered.”

I don’t tell him I haven’t had a period in two months or that due to my extreme workout schedule, it is unlikely my body ovulates at this point. The doctors all said that it could resolve itself when I quit figure skating, but until then I don’t worry about it.

It was reckless to sleep with Brett without a condom, but I didn’t even think about it in that moment. All I could think about was how sad and vulnerable he looked. How I wanted to share something with him so he didn’t lose his shine.

As I roll out of bed to go clean up, all I can think about is the man I left in my bed and how addicted to him I’ve become.

Brett Woods is a problem.