Fair Game

by Amy Andrews

  Absently, he rubbed his chin against her hair. She stirred, sighed, muttered something unintelligible and Levi froze, his fingers stilling, his pulse accelerating, his breath cutting off in his throat. But she settled again, snuggling her cheek into his chest, and his fingers automatically started back up.

  He should stop, he supposed, but despite her slumber he could still feel the underlying tension in her muscles. He might as well finish what he’d started. And, if he was being honest, as torturous as it was to be this close to her, he didn’t want to move either.

  For as long as he kept it up, he could pretend that this was really the way things were between them. That she was his to hold this close, to massage, to touch. That they were really this intimate. That he could kiss her temple, whisper what he really wanted to do to her in her ear. Slip his hands beneath that top.

  His gaze slid to the gape of her cleavage again and the twin curves of flesh he could see there and his hands trembled with the need to touch.

  Christ.

  Quickly, before he could change his mind, he reached across and snapped off the bedside light, plunging the room into darkness.

  There. Out of sight, out of mind.

  Hopefully.

  ***

  Levi woke some hours later, with a start—again. But it wasn’t a noise that had woken him. Nope. It was the painful tightness of a raging erection. An erection currently trying to bust out of his underwear and burrow itself into the lower back of the warm, sleeping woman using his chest as a mattress.

  He groaned inwardly. Bloody hell. For the love of all that was holy, not now.

  Not now.

  He could tell himself all he liked it was a perfectly natural nocturnal physiological phenomenon for a man but it didn’t help. The thing was like a homing device. He was supposed to be helping Darcy, easing her tension, not cracking a fat over the hot press of her butt into his groin.

  She thought of him as a friend for fuck’s sake! Jesus. What a fucking prince he was.

  Down. Get down!

  But there wasn’t anything short of an electric shock delivered to his balls by old Mrs Atwell that was going to bring it down.

  He needed move. To get off the bed. To get away from her. But how to do that without disturbing her? Without alerting her to the fact he was so hard for her right now he wasn’t sure he was going to be able to walk, if he ever did figure out how to get out of the bed. At the moment, he daren’t even breathe too deeply lest she wake.

  He shut his eyes, resting his head back against the headboard, trying to bring order to his racing thoughts. Trying to calm the fuck down, find his Zen, tune into his body. Unfortunately, his body only wanted to tune into hers. To the deep, even sound of her breathing, the expansion and contraction of her chest, the sweet fragrance of her hair tickling his nostrils, the perfect alignment of her heart with his, the warmth of her arms beneath his palms.

  Christ. He must have fallen asleep mid-massage. He’d gone on long after her muscles had finally melted to his satisfaction on the kind of autopilot that could be trancelike. Obviously he’d put himself to sleep doing it, his hands slipping down, coming to rest lightly on her biceps. And at some stage he’d swung his leg up onto the bed so she was entirely bracketed by his thighs. And his arms.

  As if they were lovers.

  Shit.

  He flopped his head back against the headboard and shut his eyes but his nostrils were full of the sweet smell of her hair, which only stoked the river of desire flowing through his veins and emptying into his dick. His fucking recalcitrant dick!

  One thing was for sure, staying here was not helping. His dick or the situation. Moving slowly and carefully, he removed his left hand from her arm and raised it above her head, peering at the bright blue digital display on his sports watch.

  Almost four. Time for another icing.

  Well that was something, at least. A legitimate excuse to get up, to disturb her sleep. He’d have to have done that had he still been on the couch and he’d not met anyone yet who could sleep through the potent stimulus of having an icepack shoved on their body.

  But he was still undecided. If she woke while he was trying to crawl out from behind her, she might feel the erection.

  Might? Christ, how could she not. It was like a bloody divining rod. A huge, heat-seeking missile.

  It felt big enough to be visible from the fucking moon!

  On the other hand, she did seem to be dead asleep. The kind of sleep that came with pain, emotional exhaustion and pills. Maybe he could get away with it—if he was really slow and careful?

  No part of Levi actually wanted to move. Horror and mortification aside, it felt damn good pressed up against her. He’d fantasised about being this close to her for a long time and it was better than he’d ever imagined.

  But there was an element of ickiness about that thought too. He was awake, and she was asleep. And they didn’t have the kind of relationship where that stuff was okay. Where being woken in the middle of the night by a dick in your back was welcome.

  It wasn’t right.

  So he needed to get the hell out of the bed and go get her an icepack. She needed to keep to the strict overnight regime of four hourly icings, after all. It would make all the difference to the swelling and therefore her recovery time.

  And it was just the practicality he needed to get him moving.

  Taking a deep breath, he slowly, inch by inch, leaned forward at the hips, taking her sleeping body with him. He just needed to create enough space between them to slip out from behind her.

  Suddenly she murmured something, a muffled protest, her head rolling from one side to the other, her cheek burrowing into his chest, her arse burrowing into his groin. His cock bucked hard against the stimulus, sending Levi cross-eyed.

  Not dead asleep then.

  That made up his mind, he couldn’t stay plastered against her like this any longer. It was time to move and if he disturbed her, well, she’d be awake soon enough anyway.

  ‘Just getting your icepack,’ he murmured as he slid his hands on to her arms and pushed her forward again as he slipped out from behind.

  ‘Wha?’ she asked, weaving a little as she sat upright, her voice sleepy and clearly disorientated. But not too disorientated as the bedside light snapped on, flooding the room in sudden light.

  It wasn’t a move Levi endorsed. He’d been hoping for the cover of night to conceal his arousal. He only hoped, as she blinked sleepily at him, she was blinded enough by the light to not notice the obscene state of the front of his jeans.

  Levi turned quickly away just in case. ‘It’s time for another icing.’

  He headed for the couch and scooped his T-shirt off the floor—he needed to cover up. Pulling the T on quickly, he yanked it down, pleased that this shirt was long enough to do a reasonable job of concealing what needed to be concealed.

  ‘Oh. Okay.’ She was still all blinky and sleepy and more relaxed than he’d seen her since the injury. Knowing he’d put that look on her face did not help with the state of his erection.

  Knowing he’d love to keep putting that look on her face forever didn’t either.

  With as much businesslike bluster as he could trawl up with a giant erection that was about as businesslike as a BBQ, he strode to the minibar fridge. ‘How’s your pain?’

  ‘It’s okay.’ She prodded her thigh gently. ‘Just a dull ache.’ She dropped her head to the side then dropped it over to the other, her left hand sliding to her trapezius, giving it a rub, emitting a low moan which caused Levi’s traps to lock tight.

  ‘My neck and shoulders, however, feel incredible. You have magic in those fingers, Levi.’

  He just nodded as he squatted in front of the fridge and pulled the icepacks from the small freezer compartment. Given a chance he could truly show her some magic, but the less they talked about him touching her, the better.

  Levi grabbed a fresh pillowcase from the pile the hotel had provided. They’d been using the
m to wrap the icepack in to protect her skin from direct contact with the ice.

  ‘Here.’ He walked it over to her, telling himself not to watch as she shuffled herself back against the bedhead, his gaze snagging on the bounce of her breasts beneath her tank anyway.

  He felt like he was fifteen again, when what was inside women’s bras and how he could get into them, had occupied most of his waking hours. And all of his sleeping ones.

  Her wince cut through his trip down memory lane. ‘Could you help me with the pillows?’

  Levi hastened towards her and scooped his arms under the pillows, taking them and her leg as she ground her fists into the mattress and pushed herself back.

  ‘Thanks.’

  He nodded and handed her the pack, aware that he should probably touch her as little as possible right now. She took it and eased it onto her corked thigh muscle, a sigh inflating and deflating her lungs as she settled back against the bedhead, her eyes closed.

  ‘Sure you don’t want some painkillers?’

  She shook her head, not bothering with opening her eyes. ‘Nope. I’m good. Just so... tired.’ And she yawned to emphasis her state.

  ‘Go to sleep. I’ll pull the pack off in twenty minutes.’

  She smiled and, still not opening her eyes, she reached her hand out for his. He took it. ‘What would I do without you, Levi Phillips.’

  Levi stared down her, finally looking peaceful, her limbs loose, her shoulders relaxed, her breathing deep and even, so blissed out she was already asleep.

  The question wasn’t what she’d do without him—she’d be absolutely fine. The question was what would he do without her?

  He never wanted to be in a position to find out.

  ***

  Three weeks. It took Darcy three weeks to recover from her corked thigh enough to start training with the team again. She knew she was damn lucky to have made such a quick recovery—even though she’d been the architect of that, slogging away and pushing herself with her rehab—but it still meant she’d missed three games. Almost half the season. And if she couldn’t prove she was fit to run on at tonight’s training session, it’d be another week on the bench for her.

  Sure, she’d travelled with the team to all the games and come to every training session, sitting on the sidelines growing more and more frustrated, but after two losses on the run, the team needed a win on Sunday against the Adelaide Astors in Sydney and she knew having her back in their ranks would be an incredible morale boost.

  For all of them.

  They had to win their next three games to get through to the semis. Sydney on Sunday. Melbourne the following weekend, meeting the Minotaurs, and then a home game in Brisbane after that, playing the Sirens. They were all critical games and Darcy wanted to be a part of the team.

  So she pulled out all stops at training on Friday afternoon. She’d gone back to work on light duties on Monday, which had been great for her sanity, but this—getting back on the field—was what she really needed.

  And her thigh felt good as Tony rigorously put her through her paces, supervised closely by the team medical staff. She ran, she hopped, she twisted, she stopped abruptly and leapt in the air like the ballerina she still was deep inside her soul. By the end of a gruelling hour, her quad ached a little but it felt strong.

  Invincible.

  The medical staff declared her fit on the sidelines and the whole team picked her up and marched her around the field on their shoulders.

  Levi had been right. It was all going to be okay.

  God knew, she had a lot to thank him for. She’d been a terrible patient but he’d put up with her crankiness and her frustrations this past few weeks like a champ. She’d been all over the place emotionally and he hadn’t faltered in the face of it, remaining steadfast in his conviction that she’d be back on field sooner rather than later.

  He’d been encouraging, supportive and patient even when she’d been stomping around the house like a spurned teenager with out-of-control hormones. She couldn’t wait to get to her phone and tell him she’d been cleared to play in Sydney.

  ‘Darcy? Wait up.’

  Darcy turned at Tony’s voice. She was heading into the locker rooms with Shayla and Wendy but she stopped and they kept going, knowing it was only natural that Tony would want a private word. To make sure everything was good with Darcy without the whole team listening in.

  The sun was setting behind Tony as he approached, gilding his outline, a brilliant halo blazing around his head, emphasising his handsomeness. He smiled at her as he approached, giving his face an extra layer of sexy.

  She could see why she’d fallen for him all those years ago.

  But it had been a long time ago, her tastes must have had matured, because it did absolutely nothing for her now. And if these last few months had taught her anything, it was that they made much better friends than they’d ever made partners.

  She smiled at him as he pulled up in front of her. ‘You did good out there.’

  A flood of relief swept through her belly. It was stupid to need that assurance from Tony when she’d been given all the medical clearance she needed. But he was the coach. He was the one who decided who went on and who sat on the bench and she knew he wouldn’t utilise her fully if there was any doubt in his mind.

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘How’d it feel? Really? I need you to tell me if it didn’t feel right.’

  ‘Good. Really.’ He wasn’t being difficult, just thorough, which was fair enough. Darcy knew he wanted her to be back on field too and he’d been heavily involved in her day-to-day regime for recovery. ‘Like I told the team. I have a slight ache in my quad, but that’s it. It feels like a new one.’

  He shook his head. ‘I can’t believe how quickly you’ve recovered.’ He clapped her on the shoulder and gave it a squeeze. ‘You’re a bloody machine.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Darcy grinned. She definitely took that as a compliment.

  His smile faded a little. ‘I always knew that though.’

  Darcy gave a half laugh, mystified as to how this had turned so serious. ‘You say that like it’s a bad thing.’

  A slight smile remained on his lips. ‘It’s not, I just didn’t realise it at the time.’ His hand tightened on her shoulder as he took a step closer to her. ‘Your brand of determination is sexy as hell, you know that, right?’ He shook his head. ‘I was crazy to walk away from you, Darce.’

  Darcy blinked as Tony loomed into her space. What the? Everything shut down as her brain worked through a web of confusion, trying to compute both his nearness and his words.

  But they just didn’t seem to want to compute.

  He smiled at her again. ‘Maybe we could give it another try?’ Then, his hand slid from her shoulder to cup her jaw and his mouth swooped down to claim hers.

  Chapter 8

  Darcy’s entire body froze as his mouth opened over hers. Her brain was sending frantic signals to her arms and legs. To move. To pull back.

  To kick him in the balls.

  But she was in some kind of shock, her body temporarily powered down as it grappled with this development. His tongue lapping at the seam of her stiff, unyielding lips was the cattle prod to her butt she needed. Finally the signals got through and she jerked her head back, gaping at Tony as his hand fell to his side.

  ‘What the hell?’ she demanded. Her pulse accelerated—and not in pleasure or anticipation but in fright and flight. Flickers of anger had replaced her momentary impotence.

  He smiled at her again, clearly not reading her signals very well. ‘I missed you, Darce.’

  ‘Yeah well. I didn’t miss you.’

  He smiled at her in that boyish way that had always wormed its way past her defences. ‘Not even a little?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘We were great together.’

  She blinked. What the actual fuck? ‘Was. Were.’ Until you blew it. ‘It’s over and done with, Tony. Not going there again. I thought I’d made myself very
clear about this from the beginning.’

  ‘Oh come on, can you really stand there and tell me you have absolutely no residual feelings for me whatsoever?’

  A slightly hysterical laugh escaped her mouth. Was he serious? ‘Yeah. I can. Hand on my heart, I can tell you that I feel absolutely nothing for you other than respect for you as a coach. And, I thought, as a friend. That’s it.’

  He frowned then, the back-off-buddy message finally breaking through. He cocked an eyebrow. ‘Is this about Levi?’

  Still stunned from the kiss, Darcy couldn’t even wrap her head around his question. ‘Levi?’ Where the fuck is he going with this?

  He snorted derisively. ‘You know Levi’s in love with you, right?’

  Darcy’s heart skipped a beat as she gaped at him. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ Her brain was going to explode if it had to deal with one more piece of astonishing data.

  Tony nodded. ‘Utterly, hopelessly, completely.’

  God, she’d never heard anything more preposterous in her life. How typical of Tony that he’d try to drop someone else in the shit while being called on his own. It was all too, too much to take in.

  ‘Levi and I are friends, Tony. That’s it.’

  ‘Trust me, Darce.’ He folded his arms, his mouth a grim line. ‘Guys know this stuff about other guys. He’s had a hard-on for you for a long time.’

  Unbidden, that night in Melbourne came back to her. The night of her injury. She been telling herself she’d imagined the hard press of an erection in the centre of her back when he’d tried to slip out of bed without waking her up. She’d convinced herself it had just been some waking fancy, a part of some sexy dream she’d been having.

  But maybe it’d been real?

  She frowned. No way, that was plain crazy. Levi had never tried anything. Never hinted at anything. Never tried to kiss her or hold or hand or do anything other than just be there for her. He’d been the perfect freaking gentleman.

  A guy with a stiffy in the middle of the night was hardly proof of anything. Stop the press. Adult male gets hard-on in his sleep.

  All that was proof of was primitive diurnal rhythms.