Chapter Thirteen
SLOW TORTURE
CAGE
Beijing was another world away in every sense.
It was still technically my off season, not an accurate portrayal of my life.
Well, it was my life. I always had an off season, it just wasn’t my average day every day.
Following a girl to China also wasn’t part of my average day or any day for that matter. Was I crazy? Probably.
Flint blew up my phone with texts that I chose to ignore.
Flint: 2 days. I told you 2 days was all you’d have. Obligations …
Flint: Every day you’re not training, some other quarterback is working to be better than you.
Flint: I hope she’s worth it.
Flint: I hope you get her out of your system before the season starts.
Flint: It’s driving me fucking mad that you’re not responding!
The hardest part of the day was not envisioning Lake’s breasts because I’d seen them and I couldn’t un-see them, not that I wanted to, but it did things to certain parts of my body that made the day less than comfortable.
When we arrived at the sports facility with extremely tall climbing walls, Thad said a “team” would be there to evaluate Lake’s climbing in the new prototype leg.
I didn’t expect a large, roped-off area just for her with twenty other people taking photos, video, typing notes on their iPads, and shooting an insane amount of questions at her as she climbed the wall like a monkey.
After several hours of climbing, they whisked her off to the pool, leaving a trail of people with cameras scurrying to catch up to her.
Lake emerged from the locker room, and I broke out into a sweat.
Dear God … she fucking owned that swimsuit.
I couldn’t stop staring at her tits—breasts.
Who was I kidding? It was my dick talking, and they were tits.
Everything she did left me without a single coherent thought or articulate word to say.
The woman was good—really good. An athlete that showed no disability.
She drew a crowd. I hadn’t expected that.
She laughed, answered all questions, and exchanged playful banter with Thad and Jerry.
Lake engaged with everyone around her, and they loved her.
I grinned like an idiot, wearing my baseball cap low to ward off recognition, but I was nothing more than the tall guy standing in the way of getting a good picture of Lake Jones.
However, plenty of people still took my picture. Jerry told me it was because I was white and very tall, not that they necessarily recognized me. Apparently, Thad was photographed a lot too. Jerry said most people assumed he was probably an NBA player.
After another two hours with four different versions of the prototype, Thad and Jerry gave Lake the rest of the day off. I thought we should go back to her hotel room because that’s what any normal guy would think after focusing on her body all day.
“I’m starving. Lunch?” Lake asked as she came out of the locker room in a pair of jeans, black Nikes, and a tight, white long-sleeved shirt. She’d released her damp hair from its ponytail.
“You’re quite the celebrity here.”
She rolled her eyes. “It’s just because they tape off the area. People are drawn to what they believe is off limits. A dead person in the street with a chalk outline draws a crowd too. Doesn’t mean they’re a celebrity.”
“I know what I saw, and they like watching you, and they love how you interact with them.”
We walked to the exit. “I think four of them spoke English. I smile. That’s how I interact with them.”
“They ate it up.”
“Okay, Mr. Actual Celebrity. I noticed you kept your hat down and chin even lower. Are you a big deal over here?”
A driver opened the door to a black, compact SUV. Thad hired a driver for Lake and her “guest” for the rest of the day—anywhere we wanted to go. Lake climbed in and I followed her.
“No. I don’t think I’m a big deal here, but to be honest, I didn’t think I’d be a big deal the first time I went grocery shopping after I moved to Minneapolis. By the time I autographed my way to my truck and drove home, my perishable items had in fact perished.”
“Where to?” the driver asked, in English. Well done, Thad.
“Food. I need food, and I’m not picky. Some place nice but casual, and preferably where there are no American football fans,” Lake requested then winked at me.
I shook my head, but I still had to grin as the driver returned an odd look in the rearview mirror then nodded before pulling out of the parking lot.
“Thank you.” Lake grabbed my hand.
“For?”
“For being here. For spending hour after boring hour watching me work. The bastard geeks didn’t even pull a chair up for you. Sorry.”
I kissed the inside of her wrist. “I loved every minute. When you said you were climbing with a prototype leg, I imagined a small bouldering wall with a few crash pads. I didn’t anticipate you lead climbing a fifty-foot wall like a kick-ass competitor.
You’re good. Really good. And the pool …
I was impressed. And for the record, I’m not easily impressed. ”
My compliment was met with an intense stare and a few moments of silence.
The “are you being serious” flashed in neon on her beautiful face.
Her hand shook in mine. I squeezed it and she smiled like she believed me.
I didn’t want her to argue. I didn’t want her to question my sincerity.
I didn’t want her to ever see her reflection as less than amazing.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
LAKE
We spent a perfect afternoon sightseeing around Beijing with our personal driver, topping it off with a candlelit dinner and wine.
Cage didn’t drink. I did, probably too much, but I needed something to numb my nerves that he fed all afternoon with his words, his dimples, and the stolen kisses he took every chance he got.
“Wanna come up to my room for a bit?” I asked when the driver pulled up in front of the hotel.
Cage looked at his non-existent watch on his wrist. “Hmm … maybe just for a little while. My visa expires in twenty-eight days.”
Dimples.
I was such a goner.
In the elevator I shot a text off to Thad.
Lake: I’ll see you tomorrow. If you knock on my hotel room door 2nite you will leave this country in need of prosthetic man parts.
Thad: Don’t let your sports star impregnate you. The extra weight would require new legs. Basically … don’t have sex. Night, love.
Thad’s text gave me a moment of pause. Don’t have sex? Was he being funny or possessive? I knew the idea was ridiculous so I shook it off.
“Texting your Beijing boyfriend to wait a bit before tucking you in bed?”
I giggled, thanks to the extra glass of wine, while looking at my phone screen.
“Are you jealous? Pleeease be jealous. I’m not usually into that behavior, but you’re different.
If I honestly thought you could be jealous, I swear we wouldn’t even make it back to the hotel room before … ” I shook my head.
The elevator doors opened. I slipped my phone in my purse and headed toward the room.
“Before what, Lake?” he called behind me.
The bass in my chest kept beat for the song that played in my body. It was that song that held all of my emotions. It was the song that gave me the courage to turn around.
Thump thump thump …
It wouldn’t be a lie if I said I jumped him in the hallway. That’s exactly what I did. I turned and took two steps before demonstrating my high jump abilities. Lucky for me, he caught me. I wrapped my arms and legs around him and kissed him in a way that said, “NOW. RIGHT NOW!”
He grabbed my legs, holding me to him as he shoved my back against the wall. I tore his hat off and fisted my hands in his hair as my tongue invaded his mouth. Trzy would have been proud of me.
His hands moved up my sides and over my breasts. My back arched, breaking our kiss. I couldn’t breathe. Desperation was a greedy little oxygen hog. Cage took advantage of my exposed neck when my head thudded against the wall.
“Don’t stop … I want this … so … very … bad …”
His response was a deep moan that shot straight to my eager kitty.
“Room key,” he mumbled over my skin.
“Ph-phone … purse …” I said through my heavy panting.
Hormones were little cocktails that trumped the effects of alcohol, public decency, and all reason in general. Cage lowered me to my feet. I retrieved my phone from my purse. The key to my room was on my phone.
I tried it.
It didn’t work.
I tried it again and again.
It didn’t work.
“Lake …” Cage pressed himself to my back and splayed his hand over my stomach, the tips of his fingers breaching the waistband of my jeans. “You’re killing me.”
My forehead fell against the door and I closed my eyes. “It doesn’t work.”
“Lake …” Not even the desperation in his voice or the inching of his hand down the front of my pants would magically open the door.
I tried one last time as his middle finger reached the top of my panties. “Work, dammit!” That did it. I just needed to be firm with it.
As soon as the door opened, his lips were back on mine, my feet off the ground, and two seconds later we landed on the bed with his body pressing mine to the mattress.
“We can slow down,” Cage whispered in my ear before his tongue flicked my earlobe.
Maybe we could have, but my brain couldn’t make sense of that idea or much of anything.
“Fingers, tongue, cock,” I whispered with my eyes rolled back in my head as I writhed beneath him, vying for every bit of friction I could get against my most sensitive parts. Simply put, I was grinding my body against his because my need for sex hit the level of shamelessly-desperate.
My eyes opened when I felt his breath over my face.
“What did you just say?”
“It was the answer to your question this morning.”
What part of my body do you want me to use to give you your first orgasm?
Thank God, recognition lit up his face. I really didn’t want to say it aloud.
“Fingers? Tongue? Cock?”