13. Brent
13
Brent
J ust another therapist.
I tell myself that, but it’s not enough. Neither is the hand towel I casually drop in a crumpled heap over my crotch. I’d grabbed it from the pile I keep in the gym before I lay down. I had a hunch I’d need it for this exact situation. The effect of the cold shower I took before dinner is long gone and my gym shorts do nothing to contain the effect she’s having on me.
As Joey’s fingers dig into my thigh, I start to recite the stats of all the tight ends with better numbers than mine. Unfortunately for this purpose, it’s a short list, thanks to the last couple of fantastic years I’ve had. Next, I go through my playbook from last year—anything to get my mind off Joey’s touch.
I could pretend it’s my middle-aged burly trainer from the Sailors, my previous team, but that’s not possible with how turned on I’m becoming by Joey’s soft hands stroking the muscles of my quads. It doesn’t help when I wonder what other “toys” she brought to torture me with. When she said she brought some with her, my imagination immediately went into overdrive.
Maybe thinking is not the best idea right now. Conversation.
“Your hands are magic.” Okay, not exactly the direction I want to go in.
“It’s not too bad here,” she replies. “You have a little more tightness in the IT band.”
“I’ve been lucky and stayed pretty healthy last season. Except the knee at the very end. Just the usual bruising and soreness that comes with smashing up against three hundred pounds of force at full speed.”
“Or being knocked down into the hard ground and having a thousand pounds fall on top of you.”
I shrug. “Comes with the territory. And I do my share of knocking down and piling on.”
She continues kneading the tight spots she’s discovered during the exam, and conversation lags again. I try to breathe deeply and evenly so she won’t notice the effect of her long, deep strokes over the sides of my thigh. I close my eyes and imagine my coach chewing me out for a missed catch. Or being body-slammed as I jump up to catch one. Nope. Not working. Conversation again.
“You like cooking?”
“It’s more of a necessity. I taught myself when I got tired of the PBJ and grilled cheese sandwiches I made for myself when my mum was working or too tired to cook.”
I hear an undertone of sadness.
“But,” she continues, “I learned a lot more from your mom and Stevie when I came to live at your house. And my landlady taught me a few Indian dishes as well. Turn over.”
Thank God. Then I realize it isn’t very comfortable to lie on a growing erection.
Joey continues talking. I like that she’s finally relaxed around me.
“It’s not so much fun cooking for one, so usually I just cook in batches if I can and freeze it or eat the same stuff a few days in a row. It’s cheaper and lot healthier to make food at home.”
“I’m not much of a cook, except for protein shakes and grilled meat. Cooking was the one chore I was excused from, though Mom tried to teach me. Told me it’s an essential skill, but I didn’t care. She was right, as usual.”
“Yes, she always is. She’s pretty amazing.”
“Why’s that?” I know my mother is amazing, but I’m curious why Joey thinks so.
“Because she’s so strong, despite losing a husband and child, and giving birth to a sick baby not long after. Then having the stroke a couple of years after that. And still raising five children as a single mom with love and wisdom. That takes a lot of strength, and I truly admire her for it.” She laughs softly. “I want to be her when I grow up.”
As much as I appreciate the accolades for my mother, with which I wholeheartedly agree, I’m losing control of my efforts to keep my mind off Joey’s touch. At least she can’t see how turned on I’m getting as she runs her fingers over my hamstring and perilously close to my ass.
Getting turned on? Hell, I was turned on as soon as she touched my feet. One would think I was a teenage boy rather than a sexually active man who’d satiated himself with a few hours of mindless sex only a few nights before running into Joey at the club. Maybe it’s that I haven’t done it again since then, but I’ve had no desire to pick up a random woman or call someone from my list of contacts.
And the reason for that is inches away from me, her hands moving firmly over me.
I open my eyes when she shifts to work on my back. Thank fuck she skips over my ass, because my erection has run out of room to grow. It’s fucking painful. I hold back a groan.
Seeing her breasts right in front of me, like sweet, ripe fruit hanging just above my eye level, isn’t helping. I spy her peaked nipples against her shirt, and I can’t help the pained moan that finally escapes.
“Does that hurt?” Joey asks, misinterpreting the reason for my pain. Her voice has turned husky. Is she turned on too? Her breath is no longer deep and even. The pulse at her neck is jumping as erratically as mine.
I force my attention away from her tempting breasts, and my gaze lands on the smooth bare skin of her thighs. The shorts she’s wearing are modest, loose like a skirt and reaching almost to her knees, but they still show off a lot of long, lean leg.
She always looks gorgeous and sexy, without wearing anything revealing or tight or too short. Her hair is up in a loose bun, and she has on some crochet-type vest with a T-shirt underneath.
Her effort to hide her breasts doesn’t make a difference. What is visible is torture enough. Before I can think it through, I lean up on one arm, pull her closer to me with the other, and give in to temptation. Her sweet lips freeze in shock but soften under the pressure of mine for a brief moment before she tears herself away, anxiety and embarrassment all over her face.
“What are you doing?” Joey scrambles upright and takes a few steps away from me.
Shit. I’ve scared her by attacking her. Real smooth. I’m supposed to be making her comfortable around me, not making her afraid.
“I’m sorry, Joey. I don’t know what I was thinking.” I sit up but don’t stand, bending one leg to hide my stupid dick. It’s all his fault. “I swear, I don’t go around kissing women without an invitation.” I run a hand through my hair, annoyed at my lack of self-control.
Joey is beet red, unable to meet my eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s…” This time I let out a long exhale. “I’m sorry. I have no idea what happened. Let’s just forget it, okay?” I’ll have to backtrack and start over.
“Yes. Okay,” she quickly agrees, moving away. “I think that’s enough for tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She grabs her purse and practically runs out the door before I can tell her to wait for the car service.
Fuck! Our second kiss and she ran away scared, just like she did the first time years ago.
If she runs away every time I kiss her, how am I ever going to convince her to let me take her up on her offer? It’s ironic that the first woman in my apartment, one who’s not my family or a housekeeper, can’t wait to leave it fast enough.
At least she said she’ll be back.
“Motherfu—” I hiss in pain as Joey digs a thumb into my glute. “Jesus, Joey! Are you trying to help me or hurt me?”
“I hardly pressed on it,” she shoots back. “It shouldn’t hurt that much. It’s dumb to not tell me it’s been bothering you. Why didn’t you?”
Duh. I can’t even handle your hands on my knee. Now I’ve got them on my ass. The thin workout shorts I’m wearing do nothing to minimize her touch.
Despite running scared after our kiss, she returned the next day and again all week. I rewarded her courage by keeping things friendly and casual. And each time before she arrived, I took matters into my hands, making me feel like a randy teenager all over again.
“Muscles are all connected,” she says when I stay quiet. “And they compensate, so if one’s not doing its job, another one has to. It becomes a chain reaction. Once that starts, you’re more prone to injuries. You should know this already.”
Indignant at being lectured, I nevertheless laugh. “You’re cute when you’re angry.” I’m lying face down, my hands under my forehead, so I have to lift my head to see her. As expected, she blushes. Fuck, I want to kiss her. I put my head down before I scare her off again.
She continues to work on my piriformis, the muscle in my ass that recently started giving me problems after my leg workouts. Since she normally skips over that part during our sessions, she hadn’t realized it was an issue until today. My efforts to keep things cool between us worked. She finally got comfortable enough to move up to my glutes.
She continues her lecture. “You’re not doing yourself any favors by being Mr. Macho and not saying anything sooner. If this muscle isn’t working right, you can go down the wrong way again, and something’s going to snap. Then you’ll be out for the season. Maybe forever. Is that what you want?”
“Of course not,” I mutter, chastised.
“I’ve known a lot of high school and college athletes who downplayed injuries so their playing time wouldn’t get cut. Sitting on the bench doesn’t help their stats, which, in turn, impacts their visibility to recruiters. I imagine it isn’t very different in the pros where contracts and endorsements are at stake.”
I sigh. “You’re right. I don’t even need to worry about the money anymore, but I guess old habits die hard.”
We remain silent while Joey continues working, kneading and stretching my entire left butt cheek, not just the trigger point she dug into earlier. I turn my head to peek up at her. She’s closed her eyes, finding my trouble spots by touch, which leaves me free to stare at her as long as I like. Her strong fingers move down my hamstring and to the inside of my thigh. I tense when she brushes against a particularly troubled spot, one that has grown excruciatingly painful in the last few minutes, since I haven’t been able to adjust myself.
Her eyes pop wide open, and I meet her embarrassed gaze before she looks away.
“I can’t help it, baby. It happens every time I’m around you.”
She clasps her hands together in front of her, twisting her fingers around each other. “Sorry.”
I sit up and face her. “Jesus, Joey. Don’t be sorry. You turn me on.”
Her wide eyes stare at me.
“You always have,” I admit, my voice growing deeper. “You opened a floodgate, one I’ve tried to keep closed for years, when you asked me to be your first. I can’t close it again, no matter how much I tell myself I have to.” I gently, carefully—so I don’t spook her—cup her face, my thumb rubbing over the dimple in her chin. “I know you feel the attraction too. Let’s stop ignoring it. What’s the point when we both want to give in so badly? Don’t you want to, baby?”
“Yes.”
I barely hear her whisper, but her lips move and her breath hitches. Fuck, I want to crush my mouth to hers.
I practice self-restraint, probably for the first time ever when it comes to women. I’ve never had to before.
I continue seducing her with my words. “Every time you touch me, I want to touch you back. I see those long legs of yours, and I want them wrapped around me. I want to hold your breasts, free from all the cover you hide them under. And I want to look into those big brown eyes of yours when you come for me. Tell me you want it too, baby.”
Joey is still staring at me, eyes wide, pupils dilated, mouth parted. Her tongue comes out to wet her full lips, gone dry from her fast, uneven breathing. I have to taste that mouth.
“I want it,” she breathes. “I want it too, Brent. All of that.”
I let go of the breath I was holding and move one palm to her back and the other to cup her head. Keeping my eyes on hers, I slowly, slowly touch my lips to hers. She gasps and her eyes drift closed.
Soft. Her lips are so soft. I prolong the moment, making it last, with our barely opened mouths pressed together gently.
I pull away slightly, watch as her eyes flutter open. They’re unfocused and dazed, just the way I feel. I slide my hand to her cheek and rub a thumb over her cheekbone, filled with a tenderness I have never felt before.
“Okay?” I’m not quite sure what I’m asking. Okay that I kissed her? Okay to do it again? To take it to the next level? She nods the slightest bit, as if she too isn’t sure what she is agreeing to. I make the decision for the both of us.
Yes, to all of it.
This time, when I lean toward her, she meets me in the middle. I glide my tongue over her lips, and she parts them, allowing me to slip the tip of my tongue into the small space. She opens wider, and I slide in all the way to taste her warm, sweet mouth.
My dick jerks as I think of how it’s going to be just like that when I finally get inside her. But for now, I continue tasting her with each kiss until her tongue tentatively meets mine. I tease her by pulling away, then we do it all again from a different angle.
So fucking sweet. Her taste. This kiss. Her.
Keeping my lips on hers, I pull her closer and urge her to climb onto my lap, guiding her legs so they fold on either side of me. The skirt of her summer dress bunches between us, preventing my erection from burrowing against her heat. Just as well. Might scare her away.
Her mouth is a just a little higher than mine in this position. I use one hand to angle her head so I can kiss her deeper. The other slides down to her ass to pull her closer. She gasps and grabs my hair as she goes up in flames, her mouth opening wider on mine as she grinds against my erection.
Our bodies strain closer, seeking relief. I pull her skirt out from under her and return my hand to her panty-clad ass and squeeze. While I want to explore the shape and softness, I’m impatient to reach the damp heat emanating through the thin layers of fabric between us. She emits a little gasp when I slip a finger under the edge of the panties and find her wet—
A loud banging sounds at my door. My body refuses to listen to my brain’s command to stop. I continue kissing her as my finger thoroughly explores her slick folds on its way to its destination. Almost there…
Joey jerks away and throws herself off me. She lands on her ass on the mat next to me, pulling her dress down while scrambling to stand.
“The door. Someone’s at the door.” She turns away, her cheeks flushed.
The banging starts again, this time with a voice calling out, “Hutch! Open up, man. I know you’re home.”
“It’s CJ.” He lives in the building, so the doorman doesn’t need to call up. I reach for Joey when I get up. She lurches back. “Joey…”
She shakes her head. “I…I need to use your bathroom.”
I’m going to ream my teammate for the untimely interruption.