Chapter 12
“Not anymore,” he says deeply.
The flutters in my stomach are taking flight, almost forcing me to cross the room to him.
Does Max know he opened the door wearing only a pair of sweatpants, slung so low on his hips that I can see that perfectly dark happy trail of hair leading under the waistband?
Or how his perfect abs, and those amazing muscles that form into a V, make me want to drop to my knees and drag my tongue across every single one of them?
Good God, he’s a spectacular Adonis, and I’m struggling to keep from drooling all over the floor.
“So,” I finally stammer, “you were aiming?”
“I was,” he answers simply.
“I agree with your agent, don’t admit that to anyone,” I blurt out.
“Why?” Max asks, stepping toward me.
“Be — because,” I stutter, my eyes darting all around his body as he slowly makes his way over to me. “People will have questions.”
“So?”
“What would you tell them?” I ask, exasperatedly. “You can’t admit anything about us, or knowing what happened between me and him.”
Max takes another step closer, and I automatically retreat.
When my legs hit the television stand, I unceremoniously sit on the edge of it.
Max sets his beer next to me, then rests both hands on the wood on each side of my thighs.
My blood pressure rises as my heart rate increases, and I watch as Max’s eyes become hooded.
His gaze dips slowly, perusing my body, then back up until he gives me a smirk. “Which are you more worried about?”
“Huh?” I ask, my eyes locked on his lips. I really like his lips.
“Which are you more worried about? Someone learning about what Morales did to you, or about us?” he asks.
Bending his head, he dips his nose into my hair as he speaks quietly against my ear.
“If you’re concerned I’d tell anyone about what happened between you and Morales, rest assured, Peaches, I’d never do that.
I’d never break your trust like that. But if you’re more worried that I’d talk about the two of us, I guess I need more information from you. ”
“Why?” I breathe, my eyes closing as my mind whirls. His hot breath dances along my skin, causing goosebumps to erupt in its wake, but I’m more turned on by how his nose seems to be circling in my hair, like he’s breathing me in.
“Well, is it solely because you’re worried about losing your job?
Or is it possible, like I hope it is, that you’re not fully against a quiet relationship between the two of us?
” Max bends down to press a soft kiss against my shoulder, and I let out a breathy moan.
“It’s a very long season, Peaches. That’s a lot of time to pretend we don’t want each other. ”
“It is,” I whisper, stretching my neck to grant him better access. Max obliges, pressing gentle kisses over each inch of visible skin. I hear a quick intake of breath before he lightly touches a tender spot on my neck, right where Javier had his thumb pushed harshly into my skin.
“He hurt you,” he breathes, so quiet I almost don’t hear him. “He’s lucky I didn’t aim for his fucking face.”
I giggle, but the sound gets lodged in my throat as Max applies the lightest of kisses on top of the tender spot. It’s like he’s washing away what happened earlier by giving me a good memory instead.
“Say yes, sweet girl,” he murmurs, dragging a finger along my décolletage so he can move my tank top strap. “Say yes to us exploring this chemistry.”
I’m seconds away from agreeing when two things happen simultaneously: Max’s phone rings, and someone knocks on my room door.
Shoving him away from me, I stumble back into my room, choosing not to look at Max as I quietly close our shared door.
Creeping over to the exit, I look out the peephole, outraged to find none other than Javier Morales waiting.
“Come on, Layla, I know you’re in there,” he says loudly, and as I’m debating on the best course of action to handle Javier, the door across from mine opens.
“Are you fucking kidding me? How the fuck did you get up here, asshole?” Jake Holloway shouts. Multiple other doors open, a cacophony of voices coming together as what seems like the entire Raptors team gangs up on Javier.
“You have a lot of nerve showing up here,” Jackson snarls.
I hear Dante add, “I guess you have a death wish. Is that right?”
Someone else says, “Let’s strip him down and shove him into the elevator.”
Another person shouts, “Nah, no one needs to see a micro dick. Let’s beat the hell outta him so he knows not to fuck with the Raptors.”
“Hey, hey, hey! What the hell is going on here?” Coach Dunn shouts. “Everyone, back to their rooms.”
I watch as men shuffle past my door, until only Jake and Javier are left.
“Who wants to tell me what happened?” Coach asks, pulling his phone from his pocket. “Morales, I’m reporting you to your coach and the League. I have no idea why you’re here, but you’re so fucking out of line no matter what your reasoning.”
“Coach, he was knocking on Layla’s door, and knew her name,” Jake reports.
“She’s my girlfriend,” Javier lies.
“Oh, please,” Jake replies. “You’d never score with her. She’s way too good for you.”
“We go back years,” Javier insists. “I’ve known her since she was with Atlanta.”
Coach Dunn is silent, reading something on his screen. “Morales, get the fuck out of here. If I hear of you coming anywhere near my staff, it’ll end badly for you. Holloway, back in your room.”
“But —” Javier begins, but Coach throws up a hand to stop him.
“I don’t give a fuck what you have to say. You’re out of line being here, and you know it. Don’t even think about coming back at another time, because I’ll be moving Ms. Holmes immediately.”
“She’ll just tell me where her new room is,” Javier says belligerently. “I’ll find her again.”
“Go.” Coach points down the hall, but stays in front of my room. With my ear pressed against the door, I hear the faraway sound of the elevator dinging its arrival, then squeal in surprise when Coach knocks on my door. “Layla.”
Taking a deep breath, I open the door. “Umm, hi.”
“Hi. So Morales is a dick. You know that, right?”
A laugh bursts from my lungs, but it’s shaky and awkward. “I’m aware.”
“Someone anonymously reported that there were threats against the team, and I have to assume it was for your benefit. Is that the case?” he asks, his voice quiet.
“I didn’t ask anyone to do that. My experience with Javier became known to one of the players, and he took it upon himself to try to protect me.
I guess I’m glad he did, because I’d have been at a different hotel when Javier showed up, and —” I let out a sob as my adrenaline tanks.
“I hate him, and he won’t take no for an answer, and the team didn’t believe me — my old team, not this one.
This one doesn’t know anything, and I’d like to keep it that way.
But what am I supposed to do when our teams play?
How am I supposed to do my job when I’m fearful he’ll attack me again?
I’m not his girlfriend, and I never have been, but why believe the woman when a rich athlete says differently?
How am I going to move past this when he won’t let me? ”
“What team didn’t believe you?” Coach asks, motioning for me to walk back into my room. “I think this discussion is best done without the prying eyes and ears of the rest of the team.”
“Okay,” I say sullenly. Wrapping my arms around myself, I’m suddenly so cold I can feel my teeth chattering.
I don’t want to talk about this. It’s giving me awful flashbacks.
Not only reliving the entire thing, but also how I felt when management and HR in Atlanta brushed it off. Will Coach Dunn do the same thing?
My emotions are all over the place. I hate being here in Houston, so close to Javier.
I don’t know what’s going on with Max, or if anything should be going on.
I’m hurt, sexually frustrated, exhausted, emotionally drained, and frankly, I’d rather be eating a gallon jug of my favorite ice cream than be dealing with all of this.
“Alright. Wait. One last thing,” Coach says, then opens the connecting door between the rooms with Max, and knocks on it before stepping to the window. “I know he’s involved. You two need to come clean.”
“There’s nothing to come clean about,” I tell him weakly, but Max proves otherwise as he barrels into my room and grabs my shoulders.
“Are you okay?” he asks, then jolts when he sees Coach Dunn. “Shit. This looks bad.”
“It does,” Coach replies. He studies the two of us, then sighs. “There’s a fraternization rule for a reason, you know. This looks really bad because you didn’t go through the proper channels.”
Shit. “There’s nothing going on. I promise. Max accidentally found out about what happened with Javier, and he knew I was nervous about this series. He was just trying to protect me.”
“And the adjoining rooms?” Coach asks.
“Complete coincidence,” Max answers. “I only told management that there were threats, and I thought the entire team should be housed in one hotel. Then I suggested surrounding the women to ensure they had protection if needed. I truly never thought he’d be dumb enough to show up here.”
Coach moves to rest against a desk in the corner, and I fall to sitting on the bed. Damn, I’m suddenly so exhausted. “Okay. So you and Morales were in Atlanta together. Were you ever dating?”
“No, absolutely not. They have a no fraternization rule as well, but also I didn’t like him. He gives me the creeps. Turns out that was unfortunately validated.”
“Are you comfortable telling me what transpired between the two of you?” Coach asks.