8. Gwen
eight
Gwen
Present
The freaking nerve of that man.
My hands shake as I fold the tripod and place it in the camera equipment bag.
I don’t know what’s up his butt, but I’m tired of finding him glaring at me from the fence.
We haven’t spoken a word to each other since he accused me of lying. While we’ve been at the training facility, I’ve given him a wide berth, hoping he would cool off and get over it already.
Today, I couldn’t ignore him anymore. Lance is the only player who hasn’t taken part in any of the promo videos, and it’s raising questions. There has been a flurry of fan speculation about his health and whether he has an injury.
The team needs to set the record straight before things get out of hand.
Unlocking my office door, I enter, and place the camera equipment on the desk next to the half-eaten box of pink-glazed donuts with rainbow sprinkles.
The sound of cleats clacking on the cement floor catches my attention and stops me from grabbing a pastry and devouring it.
Peeking my head out of my office, I find Lance walking in my direction as he stares at his feet, mumbling something under his breath.
He’s in his gray practice uniform, and dammit, if he doesn’t look fine as hell.
I can’t help ogling the way his baseball pants strain against his muscular thighs as he clutches his baseball hat in one hand and runs the other through his dark-blonde hair.
Ugh, I hate that I still want to hump his stupidly sexy, broody face.
As he inches closer to my office, I step out, halting him in his tracks. He looks up, and his cornflower-blue eyes capture mine. For a second, something familiar flashes in his eyes, but disappears just as quickly.
“Get in here.” I grab his jersey and tug him into my office.
Closing the door behind us, he lets me push him back against the wall.
“You need to stop acting like a douchebag and let me do my job. Just do your job and participate in the marketing videos. I know you think they are stupid, but people are talking—”
“You’re right. I’ll stop being a douche and do the videos,” Lance agrees. His acquiescence seems too easy, but then again, marketing is part of his job and he knows it.
“Okay, then. That was easier than I thought it was going to be.” I take a few steps back, putting some much-needed space between us.
“Did you expect me to be hard for you?” he asks.
“What?” I can’t help peeking at his dick for a millisecond.
“That’s not what I meant. But it’s nice to know you want me hard for you.” The wicked man chuckles as he places his hat backward on his head and crosses his arms over his chest. His biceps bulge as he stands to his full height with his back ramrod straight.
Damn, he looks good today.
My treacherously horny body likes what it sees and responds with a clit pulse and a pussy quiver. Ignoring the way my office suddenly feels ten degrees hotter, I mimic his stance and cross my arms over my chest. “No, I don’t.”
“Sure, babe.” The smug bastard smirks at me, triggering my competitive side.
If that’s the play he wants to run, fine. I can play too.
“Do you want to know what I think?” I take a step closer.
“What do you think, Gwen?” he asks, swiping his tongue across his lips.
I lower my voice and take another step toward him. “I think you like being hard for me.”
“No, I don’t.” Lance’s words are thick and gravelly in response.
Closing the gap between us, I look up into his blue eyes and watch as his pupils dilate at my nearness. His chest expands, and his breath quickens.
Using his words against him, I whisper, “Sure you don’t, babe.” I run my cotton-candy-pink nails down his bicep, forearm, and stomach, looping my index finger over the top of his belt. I purr, “I bet you’re hard for me right now. Aren’t you?”
Lance’s throat bobs, and the skin at the base of his neck flutters. His response comes out strained. “No. Not an inch.”
“Care to wager a bet?”
“What kind of bet?”
“One where I prove you are hard for me.” I don’t know where exactly I’m going with this, but this man has pushed all my buttons today and I’m ready to test him.
“Do what you gotta do. But we both know you’re wrong.”
“Last chance to back out,” I warn.
“I never back out of a challenge.”
“Neither do I.” I pull my arm back and swing. My palm hits his protective cup with a hard slap.
The big bad baseball player yelps and jumps back, covering his plastic-covered junk with his palms. “Ow. What the fuck, Gwen?”
What the fuck is right. I can’t believe I just did that. I mean, I knew he’d be wearing a cup and I wouldn’t technically touch his cock, but I still hit him in the crotch. I could totally be fired for what I just did, and yet I’d do it again just to prove my point.
“I warned you.” My heart races as I smoothly take the seat behind my desk and lean back, placing my feet on top and crossing my ankles. “Besides, it didn’t hurt, did it?”
I arch my eyebrow at him, waiting for his answer.
“Of course not.” Lance scoffs, but his high-pitched voice gives him away.
The crotch shot totally affected him.
“I guess you win, then.”
With his hands still covering his dick, Lance glares down at me.
I fight back a grin as I wave my hand, dismissing him. “You can leave now.”
Lance tilts his head to the side in confusion, then slowly turns and walks to the door. When he places his hand on the knob, I stop him.
“Oh, and Mr. Taylor, if you ever talk to me like that again in front of the guys, I will have no problem embarrassing you on social media.”
No matter how angry I am with Lance, I would never post anything bad about him. But he doesn’t need to know I’m lying.
“You can’t do that.”
“I can do whatever I want. I’m the one with the camera and the editing skills.” I wiggle my eyebrows at him.
“Witch,” Lance growls as he rips open the door and exits my office.
“I’ll take that as your compliance,” I shout at his back, and he stomps away.
I’m so proud of myself for standing up to him. I don’t really know where that sudden burst of confidence came from, but I am so here for it.
It felt amazing to take back my power.
If I can take back my power from a man who sunk his claws into my heart and then squished it, then I can stand up to my father.
When the sound of Lance’s cleats hitting the concrete disappears, I grab a donut from the box and take a bite, celebrating my victory. The sweet burst of flavors sends me back in time with a jolt.