by West, Harper
That was admirable, and I shook myself as soon as the thought entered my head.
But it was too late. Last night flashed through my mind as I thought about those strong arms, and then I was flashing back to all the sex we'd had in college, and how easy it had been for him to lift me up and pin me against the wall of the locker room one night when I'd gone to meet him after his practice.
My cheeks flushed, and I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek, clearing my throat to get his attention. The sooner I found out what he wanted, the sooner I could leave and never have to see him less than clothed again.
"Oh, hey," he said, turning his head to look at me. He sounded slightly out of breath, but he didn't stop running. "Sorry about the location, but Kathleen would kill me dead if I let up on my workouts while all this is going on."
I waved a hand and tried to look like I didn't care one way or another. I was sure I wasn't doing a great job of that. "What did you want to discuss?" I asked.
"You want me to do interviews?" he asked, sounding annoyed. "And say what 'I'm sorry my ex-wife is a huge liar'?"
I shook my head. "No, you're not going to be addressing Christine directly at all. You're going to apologize for the other things."
"There's nothing wrong with the other things," he insisted.
I rolled my eyes. "Right, there's nothing wrong with being photographed in every party city in the world with random women, drunk off your ass."
"I wasn't married during any of that," he pointed out.
"That's not the point," I fired back, frustrated. I was sure I'd already been over this. "People were willing to overlook all that because you're good at hitting a ball and then running in a circle." He looked affronted, but I kept talking before he could cut me off. "But that doesn't mean it wasn't bad for your image. You think cereal brands and children’s television want to be associated with someone who seems like a drunken lush? Because the list of sponsors considering dropping you seems to say they don't. So you apologize for being less than family friendly and we move on to the next thing."
He huffed and jabbed at the screen on his treadmill a bit, lowering the incline of it and slowing the speed, all the while not breaking form at all.
"Fine. But what do I say when they bring up Christine? Because you know they will."
I nodded. "They will. And I'm working on that. I'm not trying to get you to grovel for something you claim you didn't do, but you can't go on television and start calling her a liar. That's not going to look good."
"Yeah, I get that," he replied, sounding frustrated. "And for the last time, I didn't cheat on her."
"And also for the last time, I don't really care. Whatever you did or didn't do in the context of your marriage is none of my business. I'm just trying to get you through this."
"Okay," he said with a shrug, but I could tell he was still looking at me, and I wasn't sure why. What was he looking for? Me to believe him? Me to tell him he hadn't done anything wrong, and his ex-wife was horrible and rude, and he didn't deserve any of the mean things she was saying about him?
It wasn't going to happen. I truly believed that he hadn't done the things she was saying he did, but I wasn't going to give in and start stroking his ego. He had enough people doing that, and I wasn't going to be one of them.
My job wasn't to coddle him, it was to fix his image and set him on the path to not being dropped by all his sponsors. That was all I was required to do.
I backed away from the treadmill. "Is that all you wanted? Because I'm pretty sure we could have just talked about this on the phone and saved me the drive over here."
"It's not that far from your office," he pointed out. "And maybe I wanted to see you."
I rolled my eyes. "The more of my time you waste playing whatever little game you're playing, the longer it's going to take for me to get things done, I hope you know."
"Why do you think I'm playing a game?" he asked. "I'm not playing anything. Maybe it's just good to see you after all this time."
"I highly doubt that," I shot back, folding my arms. If he'd wanted to see me, it wouldn't have been hard. He could have reached out at any time, and I was sure if he didn't need me, we wouldn't be talking now. "I have to get to work."
"Fine, fine," he said, flapping a hand at me. "You're no fun."
"Your agent isn't paying me to be fun. She's paying me to be good at my job. That's all you need to concern yourself with."
He started stretching, pulling one arm across his chest and holding it in place with the hand on the other side. All the while he kept running.
His skin gleamed with sweat in the light, and his muscles rippled while he moved, dropping the stretch to do it on the other side.
For a second, I couldn't look away. For just a second, I let myself imagine what it would be like if I gave in and let him seduce me or whatever, taking me back to the locker room. He'd have his way with me, I'd leave satisfied.
And then I'd hate myself afterwards.
That was enough to shake me from those thoughts, and I turned on my heel and left without even a goodbye, not slowing down until I was back in my car.
Only then did I let out a shuddering breath and let my head rest against the steering wheel.
I was supposed to be better than this. Six years I'd gone without pining for Kevin fucking Porter, and then he came back into my life, and six days or so later I was losing my mind.
At least he hadn't seemed to notice. The last thing I needed was him figuring out I was thinking about him that way and holding it over my head.
I could be a professional. I told myself that every time I had to meet with him, and it still held true.
With a sigh, I cranked my car and headed for the office.
Chapter 7
Kevin
I finished my workout with a little smile on my face.
As irritable as Caro could be, it was nice to know she was still human under all that business casual. She still had wants and feelings.
And she wanted me.
Okay, maybe that was a bit presumptuous, but she had definitely been checking me out while I ran on the treadmill. I was an expert at noticing when someone was checking me out, and I'd felt the way her eyes had slid over my body, lingering in certain places. And I'd seen the way her cheeks had flushed.
I didn't call her out on it, because that would have just made everything worse, but there was a flush of pleasure to know that she still thought I was hot.
It had been a long time since we'd been together, but it wasn't like I'd forgotten. Caro was beautiful, and she'd been a little spitfire in bed back then, taking everything I could dish out and then giving it back twice over.
She sucked cock like she was made for it, putting the same amount of energy and effort into it as she did everything else.
I remembered there were nights when I'd felt like she'd sucked my soul from my body, and all I could do was lay there and try to remember how to function while she smirked in the bed next to me.
But it was easy to make her fall apart, too. I knew all her little spots. Like how kissing just right behind her knee had her going weak and wet, and how sensitive her nipples were. How she liked it when I dragged calloused fingers over her clit and ate her out until she came on my face.
My mouth watered just thinking about it, and I chugged from my water bottle, wiping sweat from my face and neck as I headed for the locker room.
I hadn't been intending to find any of that out when I invited her to the gym for the little impromptu meeting. I'd just wanted to talk to her in person. But it had worked out in my favor, because I knew she wasn't as aloof as she appeared. She wasn't immune to the things that made other people want me, and that was comforting.
It took me a bit to realize why. I stretched a little and then shucked off my pants and underwear, heading for the shower.
The locker room was thankfully empty, since it was too early to be packed just yet, so I took my time in the shower, lathering up and washing m
y hair, letting the hot water beat against tired muscles.
The thing was, I'd never stopped wanting Caro. I didn't know if what I'd been feeling back in those days was love, but it was the closest thing to it I'd ever felt.
She was smart and kind and funny and all the things I wanted in a partner, but it had just seemed absurd to think that we could make something work while we were both so dedicated to our own goals.
With the steam rising in the shower, it was hard not to think of the many times I'd fucked her in the shower of my apartment. Or her apartment. Or the cramped and mildew-y locker room on campus. She'd been the kind of partner who was just as into sex and being intimate as I was, and I missed that about her.
I missed the way her breasts were soft and full, her dusty rose nipples going hard and peaked for me when I played with them. I missed how she would tangle her fingers in my hair and damn near pull my head off when I was going to down on her and she was into it. How her thighs clamped around my head, keeping me in place. I missed how her pale skin marked up so beautifully, taking handprints when I spanked her teasingly, or not so teasingly, and fingerprints when I dug my fingers into her hips.
Just thinking about it had my cock growing, and I groaned softly, licking my lips and watching the water slide down my body.
I was already half hard, and I figured, fuck it. Why not deal with it now before I had to go off and continue with my day. I had a check in with Coach that afternoon, and jerking one out would go a long way towards relaxing me before I had to deal with that.
So I wrapped my fingers around the base of my dick, letting the water and suds from the shower slick the slide of my own hand.
It felt fucking good to be touched, and I bucked my hips up, pushing into my fist a bit, taking it slow, even though I was in a semi-public place.
I wasn't expecting to be walked in on, so there was no real reason to rush.
I worked my hand up to the tip, sliding my palm over it and feeling the roughness of my skin as it touched sensitive flesh. My breath caught, and I did it again, bucking up harder.
"Fuck," I hissed, gritting my teeth.
I imagined Caro in the shower with me, her hand around my cock, water streaming down her body, plastering her long, dark hair to her skin.
I knew she had an amazing body under those business clothes, and I wanted to settle my hands in the hollows of her hips and watch her push up onto her toes to kiss me.
Fuck, I missed how sweet her mouth was, the way she leaned deeply into each and every kiss, taking them and letting me push my tongue into her mouth and lay claim there.
I worked my hand faster, caught up in the fantasy. I wondered if she was the same as she'd been back when we were together. Did she like all the same stuff or had she acquired some new interests? Was she still a little bit kinky? Willing to try anything once? Had she tried other things with other people?
I frowned and shook my head. I didn't like that thought. It was stupid to think that she'd hadn't been with anyone else since we'd been together, and basically everyone knew I had, but I didn't want to think about anyone else touching her, kissing her, making her scream.
I wanted to be the one doing those things, and I realized with a jolt that I meant that literally. I wanted to do those things to her. I'd been so busy during the last six years that I hadn't really had time to think about her, and I'd assumed she was living her life and didn't need anything to do with me. And to a certain extent, that was true.
But now that we were back in each other's orbit, I knew I wasn't going to be able to forget about her. She was the kind of woman who stuck in a man's head and wouldn't leave.
I kept focusing on my mental image of her in the shower with me, wet and delectable. I thought about her dropping to her knees, mouth plush and ready, opening to take my cock in.
It would be so much nicer than my hand, but that was all I had, so it was going to have to do for the moment.
I jerked myself off in quick strokes, and when I felt the thundering of my orgasm bearing down on me, I leaned into it, imagining coming down Caro's throat, or painting her pretty face with my come instead.
Either option worked for me.
Fuck. I felt boneless and completely sated as I stood there, slumping a bit against the wall and catching my breath.
It wasn't as good as it would have been with the woman herself, but it was good enough. Good enough to let me know that I needed to have her.
Not just for the sex but because I missed her. I missed her wit and her humor and the way she always knew how to make me feel better.
This antagonism we had going on now wasn't fun, and I wasn't really sure what I'd done to piss her off so badly. Asking seemed like a bad idea, but I wasn't sure where else to start.
She had her hands full working on my image, and I made a snap decision right then and there that I was going to put myself to the task of working on her.
Maybe there was still something there between us, and if there was, I wanted it.
I wanted her.
I was probably less than attentive than I should have been during the check-in session with Coach, ordering something on my phone while he laid out the particulars of what he wanted from me.
Basically for me to clean my act up so I wasn’t an embarrassment to the team. Cool. Could do. Probably.
I assured him I didn’t plan on doing anything that would jeopardize my place on the team, and that seemed to satisfy him enough that he let me go without too much lecturing.
It was the middle of the week, but I was tired of staying in, so I took myself to one of my favorite bars in the city, promising I would behave and not give reporters any cause to write shit about me.
There was only so much 'being good' I could do before I got tired and started to feel cramped.
I liked to be able to be myself, and the real Kevin Porter was not the sort of person who drank alone at home.
The bar was fairly crowded, even for a Wednesday night, and I found a seat at the bar itself, settling on the stool and flagging down the bartender.
She smiled flirtatiously at me, like she usually did, and I winked back, putting extra in her tip jar when she slid me my gin and tonic.
I leaned on the polished surface of the bar, sipping at the drink for a bit before knocking the whole thing back. My eyes scanned the room, looking for anyone I knew or anyone who seemed to be out of place.
It was New York, and famous people were scattered all around the city, so there were always reporters and bloggers and whoever else lurking around, trying to get in people's business.
No one seemed to be paying me that much attention, so I waved the bartender over and ordered another.
"Flying solo tonight?" she asked, giving me that same smile. "Usually you're in here with all your friends."
"Just me, yeah," I said. "I've had a rough week."
"I can imagine," she replied. I frowned, but then remembered that everyone in the world had access to the shitty things my ex-wife was saying about me.
It hadn't seemed to put her off, though, which was promising. Or at least it would have been if I was looking for anything that night. Which I wasn't. I had my eye on a different prize, even if the bartender was the kind of leggy blonde that I usually went for without exclusion.
"Yeah, well," I said, shrugging a shoulder. "Shit happens."
"It does. Here," she said, pushing another drink over to me. "This one's on me. You give me good business, and it's sad to see someone as handsome as you looking so down." She winked and then pushed another drink my way before going to take care of another customer.
I smiled. It was nice to get preferential treatment sometimes. I worked hard at my skill and the thing that made me a top tier athlete, and I didn't think there was anything wrong with taking advantage of the admiration of the people from time to time.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I knocked back the rest of the drink before fishing it out, smirking when I saw the text was from Caro.
What the hell? was all it said.
Short, angry, and to the point. Just like the woman herself. My smirk turned into a pleased grin.
I considered ordering another drink, but instead I left a fifty-dollar bill under my glass, gave the pretty bartender a little wave, and then stepped outside.
There was a chill in the air, and I leaned against the side of the building, one hand in my pocket while I hit the 'call' button on the screen of my phone.
It rang for a second, and then Caro's clipped tones came on. "What the hell are you doing?" she demanded.
"Hello, Caro. I hope you're having a good night. Probably still in the office if I know you, and I'm pretty sure I do."
I could just imagine her scowling.
"I don't have time for pleasantries," she muttered. "Why did you send flowers to my office?"
"Why not?" I responded. "You're helping me out. Fixing my terrible reputation or whatever. Maybe I just wanted to show my appreciation."
There was a moment of silence, while she apparently processed that. "And the coffee?" she asked.
I grinned wider. "Caro. You live on coffee. You're basically a workaholic. I knew you could use it."
She sighed. "Well. Whatever. Don't do it again. You can't send gifts to my office. I'm working as your publicist right now, and it can come off as looking like bribes. I don't need that."
I hadn't considered that, and I nodded. "Okay. Fair. Sure. I'll just send things to your apartment instead. What's your address?"
"I am not giving you my address," she said. "What are you trying to do here, Kevin? And don't lie to me. You're a fucking terrible liar."
"Please," I replied with a smile. I'm an excellent liar. You're just too good at seeing through me. You always have been."
"Not always," she muttered, and I wanted to ask, but figured it was better to just press on.
"Like I said, I want to show my appreciation. I know you're putting in a lot of work for me. And...I want us to be okay, I guess. I know we agreed to be friendly or whatever, but sometimes it feel like you hate me. I want to make things better."
