Page 60 of Forever Offsides

“Probably,” he agrees. “Russel came to see you yesterday.”

He opens the kit, and I sit here, watching as he removes an antiseptic wipe I’m already not looking forward to and a large bandage. I scowl, every inch of me irritated by that. By all of this.

“He came to apologize four years too late.”

“Oh. That’s all he wanted?”

“More or less, I suppose. I think he wanted to clear the air and have me absolve him of his sins before he plays with my brothers. He was under the illusion that being on the team meant we’d be spending time together, and I corrected that.”

He doesn’t reply as he goes over to my sink to wash his hands. The large muscles in his arms move, his dark tattoos glistening in relief against his red, sweaty skin. My body prickles with heat and awareness. I’ve pictured Rhett here in my house before today. When we had phone sex, and I was in my bed, I pictured him with me. I wondered if we’d have morning afters. If he’d make me breakfast and kiss me or touch me every time he walked past me while he worked. If we were able to keep our hands to ourselves or if we’d end up fucking on the counter while our eggs or toast burned.

He dries his hands on a dish towel and comes back over to me, positioning himself between my thighs. I cock an eyebrow, and he simply smirks. That’s it. But fuck, even after a run, he still smells good, and his heat and size are making me jittery in the best possible way.

“This might burn.”

He wipes my cut with the antiseptic wipe, and yeah, it does fucking burn. I hiss in a breath.

“Oh, come on. I thought you were tough. A badass snowboarder. I bet you’ve had worse than this.”

“I have, but let me scrape off a layer of your flesh and douse it with something that contains rubbing alcohol and see how tough you are, big guy.”

A laugh bursts out. “Big guy?”

“Aren’t you?”

“Standing between your thighs, it’s impossible to be anything but. Actually I’ve pretty much been hard all morning watching you run in front of me with your tight ass, hair pulled off your neck, and sweat.”

A flush takes hold of me. The kind that makes my nipples tight and my pussy wet. “I’m sure that wasn’t the most comfortable way to run.”

“Probably worse than your cut. I’ll take care of it when I get home in my shower.” He opens the Band-Aid and applies it to my elbow. He’s been skirting my face, unwilling to look at me. Silence thickens between us, edged with tension that only has one cure. I know what’s at stake for him, and truth be told, it’d be a very bad look for me.

It’s the attraction that’s getting to me. It’s the strongest one I’ve had in a very long time. And I like it. I like the undercurrent and how my heart beats a little differently when he’s around. I like that he never fails to give me butterflies.

And with that, we shouldn’t be alone. We both know it.

More importantly, I need to safeguard myself.

Because I’ll get hurt. I already like him a lot, and I know he likes me. Fuck all, the man isn’t shy about speaking his mind.

“Where’s your medal? Can I see it? Try it on?”

I laugh. Everyone asks me that. “It’s at my parents’.”

He tilts his head. “Why is it there?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. It’s always been there. My dad has a trophy room where he keeps all of his and our trophies and awards. I was a kid when I won. I moved back to Boston, but started college immediately and was living in a dorm.”

“Bummer. There goes my dream of wearing a gold medal.” He winks at me and kisses the spot on my arm above the cut. “All better.”

“Thank you.”

I push him back, and he gets the hint and steps away until his ass and hands meet the island behind him. His gaze finally holds mine for a minute before he slowly glances around my kitchen.

“This is nice,” he says quietly. “I need to update my kitchen. And two of the bathrooms.”

“Happens in these old townhouses. I renovated this place after I bought it last year.”

“Did you live with him?”