Chapter 14
MAVERICK
I don’t want to wake up. For once, I feel comfortable, warm, and relaxed. My brain is oddly quiet and peaceful. But it feels as if there’s a weight on my chest, which probably isn’t a good thing for bruised ribs that are only just healed. Except when I try to move, it doesn’t go away.
Wait.
I slowly blink my eyes open. Silky red hair is spread across my chest, and the soft sounds I couldn’t place are coming from the woman draped over half of my body.
Like a goddamn koala, Sadie has her arms wrapped around me and one leg over top of mine. As I come fully awake, I’m aware of another major problem, other than the pressure on my ribs. My semi-hard dick is trapped underneath Sadie’s thigh, and the heat from her body is making the problem worse.
I’ve got to get out of here, and fast. Before she wakes up to find my dick pressing into her leg.
If the little snores are anything to go by, she’s still deeply asleep.
It’s not easy, but I manage to shift her leg off mine first, then slowly slide out from underneath her.
She makes some snuffling sounds that are fucking cute as hell, but once I’m out, her breathing stays steady, and she simply curls in on herself.
Fuck. I stand there watching her, telling myself it’s just to make sure she’s asleep, but the reality is, I can’t look away. She’s beautiful. Peaceful. And I have to admit, I didn’t hate the feeling of her wrapped around me.
Which is why I make myself turn around, grab my runners and a cabin key on my way out the door, and head out into the warm morning for a run along the trails I found yesterday.
The rhythmic pounding of my feet on the ground does a little bit to help ease my confusing frustration.
And I try to lose myself in the exercise, focusing on my breathing, on my steady pulse, and on how my body feels as I push it just slightly more than I have so far since the accident.
Anything to put some distance between me and the tempting redhead I apparently just spent the night cuddling.
A short while later, the five or so kilometer route I took brings me back to the cabins, and I slow to a walk as I approach ours.
Maybe she’s still asleep and I can sneak into the shower and rub one out before she wakes up.
Because after my run, I’m still hard underneath my shorts, and I can’t fully blame it on the usual morning wood.
When I slowly open the door, my eyes go instantly to the bed.
It looks like Sadie hasn’t moved, the blankets are still moving up and down slowly.
Thank fuck. I toe off my shoes and walk as silently as I can to my bag to grab some clean clothes before sneaking into the bathroom and closing the door behind me.
I can’t do anything about the noise of the shower, but maybe it’ll be like those white noise machines Monty swears by on road trips, and it won’t wake her.
I keep the water cold and step in, stifling my groan.
Grabbing my dick, I try not to think about the woman on the other side the door.
Swear to fucking God, I try not to be that guy.
But when she’s the reason I’m in this predicament, with a raging hard-on and a head full of conflicting thoughts, it’s impossible.
My hand starts to move up and down, tugging far more aggressively than normal.
My frustration at Sadie, at fucking everything, is mounting.
She wasn’t meant to get to me. She wasn’t meant to be anything more than a means to an end.
A tool to convince my team and my fans that I’m not the asshole they think I am.
To show them there’s more to me than the twisted shit the media portrays.
It’s not fucking fair. So what if I can be reckless and impulsive sometimes.
So what if I go overboard when I’m defending someone.
I’ve never once acted out against anyone who didn’t deserve it.
Hell, there’s players in the league that do way worse shit than me.
They get drunk and stupid and go on social media.
Cheat on their wives. Prey on other women.
Just look at what happened to Willow right before my accident. That fucker deserves to rot in hell.
Why am I being tortured with a fake girlfriend that’s making me start to want things I have no business wanting?
Why am I facing lost endorsements and potentially rocky contract negotiations?
Why does life just keep shitting on me, throwing nonstop curve balls that are impossible to field without taking damage of some kind.
Why has it been this way for as long as I can remember? Me against the whole fucking world.
My release is just out of reach, and if I grind my teeth together any harder I’m gonna need a fucking mouth guard. For fuck’s sake, can’t I even have this? Can’t I just quickly fucking jerk myself off and be done with this shit, and move on with my day, my life?
I grunt out a quiet “fuck” when I finally feel my balls draw up, and then I’m shooting cum onto the floor of the shower, screwing my eyes shut to try and banish the image of Sadie on her knees, catching it in her mouth.
When I’m done, I feel drained. And not in a good way.
Guilt, shame, and anger all wash over me.
Hell, maybe I am the asshole the press wants to make me out to be.
Why the fuck am I feeling sorry for myself with my high-paying career, playing a game I love, when ten years ago, I didn’t know if I’d even manage to graduate from high school.
So what if I feel misunderstood by just about everyone?
I’m living a life most only dream of. Yet here I am, dragging an innocent woman into my fucked-up life just to try and repair damage done by my own stupid actions.
Yeah. I am the asshole.
The self-condemnation monologue continues as I shower off, not feeling any better despite the physical release.
Fucking hell. I need this weekend to be over.
I need to go back to my apartment, to my solitude, and not be around friendly people asking polite questions, and not be around soft-hearted, redheads.
Once I’m dried off and dressed, I put my hand on the doorknob and take several slow breaths.
Chances are good she’s awake by now. Sure enough, when I open the door, she’s sitting up in bed, her hair a messy halo around her head.
She’s blinking sleepily, and my gaze immediately drops to the points of her nipples poking against the T-shirt she wore to bed.
Fuck, no. I look away immediately, hoping she didn’t catch me leering at her breasts like that.
She deserves a hell of a lot better than some fucked-up baseball player with limited social skills and a bad reputation staring at her like a fucking asshole.
She deserves better than me, period. Suddenly, I want to let her out of this. Out of all of it. I want her to be free from this insanity, not tied to pretending to be into me just to save my career. It all feels so wrong, so unfair.
“Morning,” she says softly, interrupting my spiral. “Hope you’re not as sore this morning as you were yesterday.” She gives me a gentle smile and fuck, it does something to me.
“I’m good.”
Her smile grows just a little as she climbs off the bed. But when she turns and bends over to get something out of her suitcase, I inwardly groan at the sight of her curvy ass that my hands itch to grab onto.
Why. Why do I have to be attracted to her? God-fucking-damn it.
She straightens up and turns back around, that smile still on her face. I’m frozen as she walks my way, and logically, I know she’s heading to the bathroom, but the dumbass part of me wishes she was heading toward me, instead. At the door to the bathroom, she pauses and looks over at me.
“You know, I have to say, I’m impressed with us.
I think we did a good job convincing everyone this weekend.
It went better than I expected.” She pauses, looking down at her clothes.
When her gaze lifts again, the raw vulnerability in her expression floors me and makes me long to reach out and pull her into my arms, to protect her from whatever she’s about to say.
“And I just want to say thank you for being here with me. I was prepared to come by myself, even if it would be awkward flying solo at a wedding where I don’t know anyone except the bride and groom.
But you…you made it easier. Made me feel not quite so alone.
And after what Dirk did to me, I’m just really happy I didn’t have to be alone. ”
She slips into the bathroom, closing the door quietly behind her, and I just stand there like an idiot, staring at the door.
I did that? I made something easier for her?
I’ve had women thank me before when I step in and deal with assholes bugging them. But this moment, that quiet little speech, her obviously genuine appreciation and warmth, that somehow means more to me than anything anyone has ever said to me.
We end up skipping the brunch, opting instead for an earlier ferry — Sadie’s idea, not mine, but I’m happy to avoid another social event.
My battery is lower than low. Maybe she’s realized that, or maybe she’s also just tired.
Whatever the reason, we’re quiet the entire trip home, only speaking briefly to check in about food options and ferry schedules.
But instead of feeling uncomfortable, it’s peaceful. Easy.
Later that evening, after I’ve checked in with Ralph, brought Cat back over to my apartment, and unpacked from the weekend, Sadie’s words still haven’t left me.
You made it easier…I’m really happy I didn’t have to be alone.
I like being alone. After years growing up in crowded foster homes, I crave solitude.
But being alone and feeling lonely are two separate things.
And after a weekend around Sadie, my quiet apartment seems oddly empty.
The clink of my fork against the plate of food I just heated up for dinner echoes in the silence.
I finish eating and stand up to clear away my dishes when my phone vibrates on the table. Like a fucking putz, I snatch it up, eager to see if it’s Sadie.
It’s not.
COLIN: Saw the pics Sadie put on social media.
You should share some too. Looks like the weekend wasn’t so terrible.
Don’t forget about that dinner Tuesday night with Velocity.
You gotta pour on the charm, brother. I think they’re solid, but show them your good side.
I can’t be there, gotta go down to Seattle for one of my other guys, so it’s all on you.
I stare at his text for several seconds.
I hate this shit. Dinners where I have to shmooze with sponsors, trying to get them to take me on.
Normally, Colin would come and I’d just sit back and let him talk.
The fact that he won’t be there is unsettling.
How the hell does he expect me to pull this off alone?
Unless…I didn’t have to do it alone.
Instead of replying to Colin, I switch over to a different message thread and hover my thumbs over the keyboard, trying to decide what to write. How to ask without it sounding weird. Up until now, Colin arranged all of our “dates,” with the exception of her asking me to the wedding.
If she can do that, I can do this.
MAVERICK: Hey. Are you free Tuesday night? I’ve got a dinner with some people from one of my endorsements. Colin was meant to come but can’t now.
I hit send before I have time to second-guess what I wrote. Rereading it, I cringe a little. It sounds cold, but then again, that’s what I need. To keep it clear this is all part of our deal, and not me wanting her by my side simply because she, too, makes it easier.