5 #2
“The part about deliberately provoking beautiful, smart, and dangerous women? Yeah, I’ll admit it—it’s a bit of an expensive hobby for my career, but it’s incredibly entertaining,” I admit with total nonchalance, winking at her.
For the first time since I walked in, Clara looks away from me.
It’s just a second, the blink of an eye, but it’s more than enough.
And seeing that gesture gives me a completely wild, almost absurd sense of satisfaction.
Because seeing her lose control of her perfect facade, even if only for an instant, confirms something I’d sensed from day one: that I’m not the only one trapped in this game of provocation.
Through the huge windows of the treatment room, you can clearly see the rest of the team training on the outdoor field in the fog.
Some of my teammates are running speed drills under the strict supervision of the strength coach.
Life at Ravenhill FC goes on as normal, while, inside this small treatment room, Clara and I seem determined to create a small but glorious private disaster.
“You’re not exactly setting a good example by answering my personal questions either,” she finally points out, regaining the upper hand as she holds my ankle to adjust the position of my leg.
I smile deliberately slowly, leaning forward slightly.
“That’s because I already know full well that you’re interested in me.”
“What you just said isn’t a valid answer.”
“No, but it’s an uncomfortable truth you’re dying to deny,” I insist, goading her.
She moves even closer to me to gain leverage. Too close. Her body brushes lightly against mine as she adjusts the angle of my thigh.
“What’s truly uncomfortable,” she tells me very slowly, lowering her voice to a whisper that makes my skin prickle, “is trying to work with a player who turns every damn session into a constant provocation.”
That physical closeness makes my pulse race alarmingly. So does her deep voice. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned in my career, it’s that when a situation throws you off balance, the best strategy in the world is to smile cockily and go on the offensive.
“But I’ll stick to the facts: here you are, yet another day, putting up with me just a few centimeters away,” I reply, holding her gaze with utter brazenness.
She takes a slow breath, her chest expanding.
“Let’s move on to the floor stretches,” she says, cutting to the chase and pointing to the blue mat spread out on the floor.
“Wow, what an elegant and subtle way to reject me.”
“Lie down already, Alicia,” she orders, saying my name with that sexy mix of military authority and resignation that turns me on so much.
I obey instantly, this time without making any jokes.
My body also knows perfectly well when the game is getting too serious and real.
I settle onto my back on the mat while she kneels beside me to mechanically correct my posture.
The white light from the ceiling falls squarely on her profile, making her look even more attractive, if that’s even possible.
Not just because of her obvious beauty, but because of how reserved and mysterious she is.
There’s something deeply addictive about a person who tries so hard not to feel anything.
Because a part of me—the most mischievous part—just wants to figure out exactly where I need to press to break through that armor and see her beg.
“Relax your shoulder and hip,” she murmurs, pressing her warm hand firmly against my hip to adjust the alignment of my back.
I try with all my might, I really do, but the direct touch of her fingers distracts me terribly. It feels as if the world were committing the rudeness of coming to a standstill for a moment. My breathing changes. Hers, too, betrays how much having her hand there affects her.
I look up, and she’s already staring intently down at me.
Eyes. Lips. Eyes again. That slow, silent journey, laden with desire and tension that doesn’t belong—not even remotely—to any physical therapy approved by the club.
The distance between our mouths becomes ridiculous.
An absolute mistake. A full-fledged invitation.
Something dangerously close to making a definitive decision.
I smile very slowly, without taking my eyes off hers for even a millimeter.
“May I ask if you touch every player on the roster like this, or am I getting special treatment?”
I can see perfectly the exact struggle raging in her dark eyes: the fierce internal battle, the urgent need not to give in to temptation, not to cross that professional red line, not to allow herself the luxury of turning all of this into something real.
And, honestly, I promise you that never in my life have I found anything sexier or more attractive than watching a woman trying with all her desperate might not to kiss me.
Clara pulls her hand away from my hip as if my clothes were burning and takes a step back as she stands up, barely regaining control of her body.
“We’re done for today,” she says, her voice sounding too firm and forced to be natural. “You can go straight to the locker room to take a shower.”
I sit up very slowly on the mat, leaning on my forearms with complete calm, and savor her visible discomfort to the fullest. I cast a quick sideways glance toward the windows overlooking the outdoor field, silently calculating exactly how long it will take my first-team teammates to finish their sets and arrive in droves at the communal shower area.
I stand up nimbly, locking eyes with her with a thoroughly roguish smile.
“So why don’t we go and enjoy it together?” I ask, referring to the shower in a deliberately ambiguous, provocative, and dangerous way.
Absolute silence spreads between us like a slap in the face.
Perfect. Brilliant. The phrase hangs in the air of the room with all the malice in the world.
It’s not just a cheap provocation on my part.
It’s pure curiosity. It’s real desire burning inside me.
It’s the deeply irresponsible need to know what the hell Clara Valle would do if she finally stopped hiding like a coward behind her impeccable and boring medical professionalism.
She doesn’t answer me at all. I see her fingers clench around the tablet too tightly, turning her knuckles white. The line of her jaw tenses just a little, and the rapid rise and fall of her chest gives her away long before she can utter a single word to chase me out of there.