Chapter 32 Joelle
JOELLE
The apartment gym is empty at six in the morning, which is exactly why I'm here. I plug in my headphones, hop on the treadmill, and start running. The rhythm helps clear my head, no thinking about Emmett. No thinking about the impossible situation we're in. Just breathing and running and ...
The door opens.
Shit.
Emmett walks in wearing gray sweatpants and a Mavericks T-shirt, water bottle in hand, his hair still messy from sleep. We make eye contact.
"Morning," he says.
"Morning."
He heads to the weights, and I keep running. We're both pretending this is normal. Two neighbors who happen to work out at the same time. Nothing to see here. Except I can see him in the mirror, lifting weights. His arms flexing, the shirt riding up slightly when he reaches overhead. Focus, Joelle.
I turn up my music and run faster. Ten minutes later, I'm drenched in sweat, my legs are burning, and I slow to a walk, trying to catch my breath.
"Are you training for a marathon?" Emmett asks from the bench press.
I pull out one earbud. "What?"
"You've been sprinting for ten minutes straight."
"Just burning off energy."
"Right." He sits up, grabbing his towel. "Stress?"
"Something like that."
He stands, walks over, and leans against the treadmill.
"You know what helps with stress?"
If he says his dick ... "What?" I ask cautiously.
"Swimming."
I raise an eyebrow. "Swimming?" That wasn't at all what I was expecting him to say.
"The pool's heated. It's relaxing."
"I don't have a swimsuit with me."
"Neither do I." He smirks.
My face flushes. "Emmett."
He grins. "I'm kidding. Mostly. But seriously, the pool helps. You should try it."
"Maybe I will."
"Maybe tonight at eight, after practice?"
"I ..." I stop. This is dangerous. But also ... the answer is out of my mouth before I realize. "Okay.”
His smile is worth it. "I'll see you tonight after practice at the pool."
I nod. "Enjoy your workout," I call out as I leave the gym.
That night, I show up at the pool at eight. The water glows blue under the overhead lights. Emmett's already there, swimming laps. I watch him for a moment, the way he moves through the water. Smooth. Powerful. Effortless. He surfaces at the edge when he sees me.
"You came." He sounds surprised.
"I did."
"Come on in. It's nice." He grins, placing his chin on his arms as he clings to the edge of the pool.
I drop my towel. I decided on a one-piece, thought it would be less sexy. But judging by the way his eyes widen as he takes me in, I don't think it worked. I take a step into the water. It's warm.
We swim in silence for a while. Back and forth. Easy laps. No pressure. No tension. Just swimming.
"This is nice," I admit when I stop for a break.
"Told you." He smirks.
I splash him.
He splashes back.
And just like that, we're laughing, acting like kids. Forgetting about everything else. It feels good. It feels normal. I splash him again. Harder this time. Water hits his face.
"Oh, you're going to pay for that," he warns.
"Catch me first."
I swim away, but he's faster, and his hand catches my ankle, pulling me back. I yelp. "That's cheating!"
"All's fair in pool wars." He pulls me closer, and suddenly we're face to face, treading water, his hand still on my ankle. The laughter fades. His eyes drop to my mouth, then I feel him wrap my leg around his waist.
"Emmett ..." My voice is barely a whisper.
"Don't say it." His free hand comes up, cupping my face, and water drips between us. His thumb traces my bottom lip. "I know we shouldn't. We both know we shouldn't. But I just can't stop myself. Tell me to stop."
I don't.
He kisses me, and everything else disappears.
The water. The world. Everything but this.
But him. His mouth is soft and demanding all at once.
I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer.
He groans against my lips, one hand slides down my back, pressing me against him.
We're still treading water but barely. Too distracted.
Too lost in each other. His tongue traces my bottom lip, and I open for him.
The kiss deepens. Gets hungrier. His hand slides lower, gripping my hip.
I can feel him. All of him. Hard against me through our swimsuits.
"Fuck, Joelle," he murmurs against my mouth. I rock against him, and he makes this sound. This desperate, needy sound that goes straight through me. His mouth moves to my neck. Kissing. Sucking. I tilt my head back, giving him access.
"We should stop." I gasp.
"I know."
But neither of us stops. His hand slides up my thigh, my fingers rake through his wet hair.
Then he freezes.
"What?" I breathe.
"Cameras." He pulls back slightly, nodding toward the corner of the pool area. "There's a security camera right there."
Reality crashes back. I unwrap my legs from around him and try putting distance between us. "Shit."
"Yeah." We're both breathing hard, staring at each other across the three feet of water that suddenly feels like a mile.
"We can't do this here," he says.
"We can't do this anywhere."
He gives me a look that tells me he doesn't like that opinion.
"I should go."
"Jo ... please."
"I have to."
I swim to the edge and pull myself out. I grab my towel and quickly wrap it around me. Then I pause, turning to see him in the pool looking despondent. "Hey, Emmett." He looks up at me. The hope I see in his eyes is my undoing. "Text me later." I smile before disappearing out the door.
I'm a bundle of nerves as I lie waiting in my bed. I can't believe I just told Emmett to text me. But after that kiss, I'm all kinds of worked up. My phone buzzes and I almost jump out of my skin.
Emmett: You're killing me.
Joelle: What did I do?
Emmett: That swimsuit. The way you looked at me. Everything.
My stomach flips.
Joelle: You're the one who pulled me closer.
Emmett: You wrapped your legs around me.
Joelle: You told me to.
Emmett: Fair point.
Emmett: I can still taste you.
Heat floods through me.
Joelle: Emmett ...
Emmett: Tell me you're thinking about it too.
I am. I haven't stopped thinking about it since I left the pool.
Joelle: Maybe.
Emmett: Just maybe?
Joelle: Okay, definitely.
Emmett: What are you thinking about?
Joelle: Your hands. Your mouth. The sound you made when I rocked against you.
Emmett: Fuck.
Emmett: You can't say things like that and expect me to survive the night.
Joelle: Who says I want you to survive?
Emmett: Trouble.
Joelle: That's my name.
My phone rings and his name flashes on the screen.
I answer. "Hello?"
"Tell me what you're wearing." His voice is low.
"Emmett ..."
"Please. I need to know."
"Tank top and shorts."
"Take them off." His voice drops low.
"What?"
"You heard me. Take them off. I want to know you're as affected by this as I am."
My hand trembles as I set the phone down, put the earbud in, then pull off my tank top and shimmy out of my shorts.
"Done," I whisper.
"Good girl. Now touch yourself."
"Emmett ..." But even as I say his name, my hand is sliding down my stomach.
"Are you wet for me?"
"Yes."
"Show me how much."
My fingers slip between my legs. I'm soaked. "I'm so wet," I breathe.
He groans. "Fuck. I can hear it. I wish I was there. I'd taste every inch of you."
"Tell me what you'd do."
"I'd start with your mouth. Kiss you until you can't breathe. Then I'd work my way down. Your neck. Your breasts. Take my time with each one."
My fingers circle my clit. "Keep going."
"Then lower. Kissing down your stomach. Your hips. Your thighs. Making you beg for it."
"I'm begging now." I moan.
"Faster."
I obey. My breath catches.
"That's it," he murmurs. "I can hear how close you are."
"I need ..."
"I know what you need. I'd put my mouth on you. Taste you. Make you come on my tongue before I even think about fucking you."
I moan. Can't help it.
"You like that? The thought of my mouth on you?"
"Yes."
"What else do you want?"
"You. Inside me. Hard."
He makes this strangled sound. "Fuck. I'm so hard right now it hurts."
"Touch yourself."
"Already am. Been touching myself since you answered the phone."
The thought of him stroking himself while talking to me pushes me closer to the edge.
"Faster," I gasp.
"You first. I need to hear you come to finish."
My fingers move faster. The pressure builds. "Emmett ..." I moan.
"That's it, Trouble. Come for me."
I shatter. His name on my lips, my whole body arching off the bed. On the other end of the phone, I hear him groan. Low and desperate. My name mixed with curses.
For a long moment, there's just our breathing.
"That was ..." I start.
"Yeah."
"I don't feel as stressed."
This makes him laugh, the deep rumble rolls through my phone. "Me either."
"I'm also not sorry."
"You aren't?"
I let out a heavy sigh. "No."
"Me neither."
Silence stretches between us. But it's not awkward. It's ... comfortable. "Goodnight, Captain."
This pulls a groan from him. "Goodnight, Trouble."
I hang up and stare at the ceiling with a wide smile on my face. I'm playing with fire. But I'm not sure I care anymore, because he makes me feel good.
We're on the road to Boston again. The team is staying at a hotel downtown, I'm in the lobby waiting for Collette when Emmett walks past with Sully heading to their room.
"Jo!" Collette waves as she walks toward the elevator. "Come on!" She calls out to the boys, asking them to hold it for us. I grab my bag and head over.
"Going up, ladies?" Sully asks.
"Yeah."
I follow, trying not to look at Emmett. The space is small with two burly hockey players in it.
The doors close. "What floor?" Emmett asks.
"Twelve," Collette answers.
He presses the button. "We're on fifteen."
More silence.
Then the elevator jerks and stops. The lights flicker.
"What the ..." Sully starts.
The emergency speaker crackles. "Attention. The elevator is experiencing technical difficulties. Please remain calm. We're working to resolve the issue."
"You've got to be kidding me," Collette mutters.