17. Chapter 14
Sloan
Hangovers are the worst. Ali and I should have left when the guys left. Instead, we stayed and drank and shit talked about Tanner, plotting all the ways I could punch him in the dick if the opportunity ever presented itself.
This morning, on my way to the gym to detox myself in the steam room, I regret all my life choices.
The sauna sits a ways off the gym, so I won’t have to worry about the noise from the few guys working out as I try to relax.
I secure my things in a locker, throw my hair up in a messy bun, and wrap a towel around my naked body.
When I enter the steam room, the hot fog scented with eucalyptus is just what I need. I sit down on the edge of the bench nearby, swing my legs up so I’m sitting with my legs stretched out and lean back on the cool wall.
Heaven.
I replay my conversation with Jax as I let the steam engulf me. As each bead of sweat rolls down my body, it clears my mind a little bit more.
I mentally tally all the things I love getting to know about him. He’s really thoughtful. Intentional. He loves the sport and people around him so unapologetically. He makes me laugh. He’s become someone I can confide in.
“Who are you talking to?” Jax’s voice cuts through the fog of not only the small space, and it makes me jump.
I’m already red from the heat of the steam room, but I feel myself blush as I open my eyes and see him standing over me in nothing but a towel, and realize all my internal thoughts were being mumbled for him to hear.
“Just thinking,” I say, deciding not to bother with a lie.
“About me?” he wiggles his brows in a teasing manner, and it makes me giggle.
“Maybe.”
He moves closer, and as his body cuts through the fog, my mouth runs dry.
He’s way more cut than I realized. I can’t help but let my eyes trail over his stomach to the small trail of hair leading beneath the towel. It’s slung low on his hips with a distinct v that has me licking my lips.
He’s naked, and I’m suddenly very aware that I am too.
He smirks, also taking me in. Neither one of us is subtle. His eyes trail from my lips to my breasts, down my legs, and back up. He slowly sits down at my feet and tries to discreetly readjust himself under his towel as he props my feet on his lap.
“Is this ok?” he smirks. “The bench is small.”
I look around him and realize that the bench is, in fact, very short. I hadn’t noticed when I came in that this was the only place to sit, or I wouldn’t have positioned myself this way.
I nod in agreement, and we both fall silent for a moment.
Once we situate, neither one of us moves for a beat, the fog refills the room, and his figure is lost inside the cloud before me. As if it’s a shield protecting us, we unravel the space between us.
“How did you find out?” he asks with a clearing of his throat. “That he cheated.”
He starts slowly rubbing my foot, and I close my eyes for a second, trying to control the arousal pooling between my legs. His fingers are soft against my skin, and each roll of his thumb over the arch of my foot feels intimate and purposeful, and I feel him hardening beneath his towel.
I swallow trying to catch my breath. “He told me after a rehab session in the hospital. I just got back to my room, and he was waiting there.”
His grip tightens on my foot for a fraction of a second before he starts slowly rubbing soft circles up and down my ankle.
“He didn’t even wait for you to heal before he broke you?” His words are cold, even though his touch is comforting.
“Nope.” I pop the p for emphasis.
His motions get longer and softer as he trails his fingers up and down my leg, halfway to my knee and back down again.
My head knows that this is a tense conversation, and he doesn’t like what he’s learning about my relationship with Tanner, but the physical connection is telling my body a different story.
“You’re perfect.” His words are soft but carry through the thick air surrounding us like he’s whispering them in my ear.
He changes the subject before I can respond, “When I was a senior. I got replaced by some hotshot pitcher named Mitch, and it almost ruined the game for me.”
I don’t know why he’s telling me this. Maybe he wants to share a vulnerable moment with me too, so I set aside my confusion and sit up, swinging my leg over his so I can scoot closer.
The motion causes the fog to disappear around us, and when it does, his bright blue eyes are on mine. I place a small kiss on his shoulder before I start to speak, and notice as he places one hand on my thigh, the other is now covering what I’m certain is his growing erection.
The mix of both sends a shiver up my spine, and I’m finding it hard to use my words.
“Um… I’m really sorry. That must have been terrible.” I try to clear my throat, but I can’t find the air. His fingers move the slightest bit over my skin, just to adjust—he’s not making a move, but part of me really wants him to.
“Yeah. I gave him the opportunity—handed it over to him on a platter. I pitched the worst game of my life during his first game. The coach had no choice. He put him in, and that was it. He was amazing.”
“Baseball is a lot more cutthroat than football,” I say, trying to lighten the mood.
“Yeah, stats run the lineup, and one game can change everything. One moment, and you might not even see it coming.” He leans in and lays his head on mine, and I’ve never felt words so deep in my soul.