Personal Foul

by Hayley Faiman

  Taking a deep breath, I try to calm myself down before I turn around and head back into the restaurant. I check on my tables, and when I make my way back to Cole’s, I’m surprised to see that his companion has left and it’s just him.

  “Got a minute?” he inquires before I can even ask if he needs anything else.

  Biting the inside of my cheek, I nod. His hand wraps around the outside of my thigh, and my eyes widen in surprise. His fingers dig into the back of my leg, and it takes everything inside of me not to moan at how warm his hand is, how firm his grip is, and yet how gentle he is.

  “Cole?” I whisper after what seems like a full minute of staring into his pale green eyes.

  He shakes his head as his hand falls from my leg, but not before his fingertips skim all the way down to the back of my knee. “How do you get home after your shift?” he asks weirdly.

  “I walk.”

  His eyebrows tug together in confusion, and his straight white teeth sink into his lower lip. “Alone?”

  I nod my answer and his brow furrows deeper.

  “What time do you get off?”

  “Three, usually,” I admit. His eyes widen in surprise before he nods. “Is there anything else I can get you?” I say. It sounds breathy, and I feel as though I’m panting.

  “No. No, thanks, Jessa,” he murmurs.

  I set the bill down and hurry away, unsure of what just happened between us. His touch, it felt so good, and I shiver just remembering it.

  I spend the rest of the evening going through the motions, trying to forget about Cole—about his fingertips as they dragged along my skin, about him. I fail, miserably.

  When it’s closing time, I help clean up the bar and count my till. I made a good amount in tips, and I can’t help but grin. Winter will be here before I know it, and I’ll need good snow shoes and a heavy coat, especially if I’m going to be walking to and from work every night. I wave goodnight to my coworkers as we all separate outside of the front door, and I begin to walk back toward campus.

  “You know it isn’t safe for a woman to walk around at three in the morning alone,” a deep voice rumbles from behind me.

  I suck in a breath and turn around slowly only to find Cole leaning against the side of a building. He’s wearing a pair of track pants and a tank top. My eyes move to his biceps, and I squeeze my legs together, trying to keep my knees from knocking at the sight of his muscular arms. He’s more than I’d imagined. I’ve seen him in t-shirts before, but nothing on earth could prepare me for the sight of his arms bare. I don’t think I could survive if I saw his naked chest.

  “I haven’t had any issues,” I murmur.

  He shakes his head with a smile on his lips and then closes the distance between us. With his head tipped down, I hold my breath as he wraps his hands around my waist. My chest touches the top of his stomach, and I press my lips together to keep from sighing, or whimpering, or making any other noise.

  Cole’s nose runs alongside mine, and I inhale his spicy scent. “Why can’t I stay away from you?” he whispers as his mouth moves toward my ear. One of his hands gently slides up my spine to tangle in my hair.

  “Why don’t I want you to?” I admit on an exhale as my eyes flutter closed.

  His lips touch my earlobe and goosebumps break out over the flesh of my entire body, all the way down to my toes. Then, as suddenly as he was in front of me, he takes a step back. I’m instantly aware and miss his heat. My face turns hot as my eyes open to look at him. He looks as though he’s thinking. He reaches out, taking my hand in his. Without another word, he turns us in the direction of the school, and we start to walk back to campus together.

  “Cole?” I ask quietly after a few beats.

  “You should tell me to stay away from you,” he mutters, looking straight ahead. “You should tell me for a million reasons.”

  I think about the main reasons I have to tell him to stay away, which aren’t even what he’s talking about, I’m sure. Telling him to stay away, even thinking it, it feels wrong. I don’t want to never see him again. In fact, I want to see him again and again.

  “I can’t,” I admit.

  His fingers squeeze mine, but he doesn’t say anything else until we’re right in front of my dorm building.

  Once we’re stopped, I turn to face him, my hand still in his. His other hand lifts to the side of my neck, and he wraps it around me, his thumb running up and down the center of my throat while his eyes travel its path before they meet mine. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Jessa,” he murmurs as his face dips even closer, his lips so close to mine that I can practically taste him.

  “Cole,” I moan.

  His lips touch mine, and I gasp as his tongue fills my mouth in one swift motion. He’s warm, his tongue firm, and his strokes even. I wrap my hands around his bare biceps as I press my chest against his, trying to get closer to him.

  He lets out a groan, as one of his hands glides from my waist to my ass. The other slips from around the side of my neck to the back of my hair. We kiss, our tongues meeting stroke for stroke, his fingers digging into the cheek of my ass, and his hand tightening in my hair, tugging against my scalp.

  My belly flips and warms, and I feel a tingling sensation between my legs. I want him to touch me, to kiss me—everywhere. I have never felt like this before in my entire life. I ache, my pussy aches, and I feel like I need him to relieve that ache.

  “Fuck,” he curses as he gently backs away.

  His teeth nibble my bottom lip before he rests his forehead against mine, and lets out a long exhale.

  “What was that?” I ask.

  He releases me as he takes a step back, his head dropping. I watch as his hand runs through his hair, and his pale green eyes meet mine from beneath his lashes. “I don’t know, but I want to find out,” he murmurs.

  “Me too,” I breathe.

  He nods as though he’s made some sort of decision within himself, and he lifts his head. “Come to me?” he asks, sounding almost hopeful.

  I shake my head, suddenly feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders, the weight of what I’ve just done and what I want to do. My mouth betrays my own actions, “When, where?” I whisper.

  His fingers reach out to me and trace my lips before he holds out his hand. “Phone?”

  I reach into my small purse and take it out, unlocking it before I hand it to him. I watch as he punches some buttons before he slips it back in my hand. “I’ll text you. Now get inside,” he grunts.

  I nod and reach for my keycard, sliding it through the device next to the door. Wrapping my hand around the handle, I tug it open before I turn to him.

  “Thank you for walking me home,” I whisper.

  “Get inside, Jessa,” he mutters as his jaw clenches. I hurry inside and upstairs until I’m locked safely inside of my room.

  It’s dark, Ines is asleep, and all I want to do is squeal like a fool. I should be feeling massive amounts of guilt, and I will, but not tonight. Tomorrow, reality will hit; but tonight, tonight a beautiful man walked me home because he didn’t think it was safe that I was alone.

  Tonight, that beautiful man kissed me, and I swear my body was seconds from going up in flames.

  Tonight, I felt something I’ve never felt before. Not only did I feel desired, but I felt desire itself.

  Holy shit.

  COLE

  I PICK UP my phone for the tenth, maybe the twentieth time, and stare at the text messaging app. I want to text her, but I know that I shouldn’t. Just like I shouldn’t have kissed her last night, felt her tits against my chest, or grabbed her ass with my hand. All things I shouldn’t have done, yet I did, and they felt fucking phenomenal.

  “You going to call her?” John asks from the seat across from me. I didn’t even notice he’d walked in.

  I lean back in my chair and stare at the ceiling. “I fucking shouldn’t.”

  “Probably not, but you want to; and if I read her right, she wants you to,” he chuck
les. He has no idea.

  “Boys in the weight room?” I ask, arching a brow.

  He shakes his head at me as he stands. “Yeah, c’mon.”

  Walking into the weight room, I see the normal guys lifting weights. They’re throwing the weight balls back and forth between squats. Then, there’s Keller—his ass on the ground and his back against the mirror. He’s a cocky, lazy fuck, but with some direction, the fucker can play. I hate it, too.

  “Keller,” I shout. His head pops up. “Give me a hundred pushups for sitting on your ass.”

  He grumbles something, but I ignore it. Today, we’re going to watch a video of the last scrimmage we had, and I’m going to show them exactly what they look like out there.

  They look good, but they could look better. A win out of the gate, will set the tone for the rest of the season. I want victory after victory, and the only way to have that is to continually improve.

  I ignore Keller and his pushups as I check on the rest of the players. Then I announce that it’s time to take notes. They all grumble, none of them wanting to sit for any length of time. A little later in the season they’ll be happy to have the break. Right now, they’re in the zone, and they don’t want to stop training for anything. I don’t give a shit. I’m not here to hold their hands and be their friend. I’m their coach.

  Once we’re inside of the dark room, John starts the tape and stops it every time he wants to talk to them. I pull out my phone and decide to send a text to Jessa.

  It’s Cole. Did you sleep well?

  I feel like a fucking dumbass, but I press send anyway. I then watch it, waiting for the word delivered underneath to show read. I grin when it does, almost immediately, and then those three little dots appear as she types her response.

  Jessa: Dreamt all night long.

  My lips twitch as I imagine her tossing and turning, dreaming of me, of us, of our kiss.

  You work tonight?

  Jessa: 9-2. Every night, except Sunday.

  I frown, wondering how she has time for her classes, for her homework—then I realize that she won’t have time for me, either. I don’t know how to respond. I want to see her again. I want to touch her, feel her beneath my hands, make her completely come apart with my touch.

  My phone buzzes, and I pick it up, sneaking outside as John continues to lecture the team about their plays. “Hello,” I murmur as I lean against the wall next to the door.

  “Cole,” Jessa breathes. I close my eyes to fight my cock from going rock hard in my pants.

  “Baby,” I murmur.

  “I have breaks between classes, usually from two to nine every day. Sometimes I catch up on work, sometimes I take a nap…” her words trail off, and I know what she means without actually saying it.

  “Tomorrow? I have a break from three to five,” I murmur. “Meet me at the Campus Rec Center, Suite 230 at three,” I state.

  “Okay,” she says, sounding hesitant.

  I sink my teeth into my bottom lip for a moment before I continue. “I’ll already be there, the reservation will be under Cole, and nothing is going to happen, Jessa. We’ll talk,” I state, not telling her the exact truth.

  “Yeah,” she exhales.

  “Tomorrow, suite 230, Campus Rec Center,” I repeat. She agrees. “Can’t wait to see you, baby,” I add, not wishing to play games.

  I want her, and I’ll take her however she comes—until it’s no longer enough for one or both of us.

  I end the call and turn back to the video room. When I open the door, John has the lights on and he’s explaining a few of the plays he wants his guys to make when they get down to the practice field. I watch as they break into small groups where each coach talks to his specific players.

  A few minutes later, they all stand, murmuring amongst each other, and file out of the room, splitting off to go where they’ve been instructed.

  John raises his eyebrows at me. I’ve never walked out of any aspect of our training before, and yet, I did—for Jessa. It’s as though he knows exactly what I was up to when he gives me a grin.

  JESSA

  NOTHING IN MY closet is good enough. Not a damn thing. I rifle through my clothes halfway to tears as I try to find something to wear. My last class ended at two-thirty, and I took a quick shower, but I need to get dressed and get a move on it if I’m going to meet Cole at three. I still don’t know why I’m going exactly, except I’m drawn to him—which seems like a really stupid excuse.

  “What’s your deal?” Ines asks from her place at her desk.

  I huff out a breath of air as I turn to her. “I have nothing to wear.”

  “It’s asshole Trent. Who cares what you wear?” she says, arching a brow. I bite my cheek and pull the towel tighter around me. “Unless, it isn’t?”

  I grab my faded skinny jeans, slipping them on under my towel. Then I take a navy, wide-scoop neck, loose fitting shirt and throw it on, tucking it into the front of my jeans before I slip my feet into a pair of flat shoes.

  “Jessa?” Ines asks as I gather my purse and walk toward the door with my head down. When she calls my name, I lift my eyes and look at her.

  “I consider us friends, and friends don’t judge,” she whispers.

  “Thanks,” I mutter as I wrench the door open and hurry out of the building. I keep my pace quick and steady as I make my way toward the Campus Rec Center.

  When I arrive at the building, I brush my hair behind me and take a deep breath before I open the door. My eyes widen when I see a sign that says massage. I check the suite number, and it’s the same as the one Cole texted me this morning. I press my lips together as I make my way to the front desk.

  “Cole?” the girl asks before I can even open my mouth. I nod and she smiles. “You can change into your robe in the locker room back there. You can leave your panties on, but please take your bra off,” she explains as she points toward a door that says women. “The rest of your party is waiting for you in room three.”

  I smile and thank her as I make my way toward the locker room. I don’t think about the fact that, apparently, I’m getting naked and Cole is already waiting. At least, I hope it’s only him and nobody else.

  I find a satin robe that’s hanging up and hurry over to a locker. I quickly strip down to just my panties, before I slip my arms inside of the robe, tying the tie, of the robe tightly at my waist.

  I’ve never done anything like this before. Not just meeting another man, but a massage, either. I’m completely out of my element and totally uncomfortable. I hesitantly walk toward room three and wrap my hand around the handle, pulling it down with a deep breath, and pushing it open as I exhale. Then I let out a squeak.

  Cole is sitting on a table, a sheet only, wrapped around his waist. His head is tipped down, but his chest, my god, his chest is bare. He is cut, and there is a dusting of light brown hair in the center of his chest that goes out to his pecks; then there’s nothing until you get to the trail leading down from his belly button. His skin is golden brown and he looks perfect.

  “Baby,” he mutters, his voice deep and husky. I let the door close behind me, but I am frozen in my spot.

  Cole stands, his hand wrapped around the sheet at his waist, keeping it in place as he closes the distance between us. “Kiss me, Jessa,” he demands in a grunt.

  I tip my head back as he lowers his own down, and I press my lips against his. They’re soft and warm. Tentatively, my tongue traces his lips and he opens for me. I slip my tongue inside as I press my torso against his. I can feel his chest hair through the robe against my nipples, and I moan at the sensation.

  He lets out a moan of his own as he takes over the kiss, his tongue sweeping through my entire mouth and tasting every part of me. Then he takes a step back, his chest rising and falling, as I’m sure mine is, too.

  “This was a really fucking bad idea,” he grunts as his hand shifts in front of him. My eyes widen when I realize what he’s doing, attempting to hide his hard-on.

  “I’v
e never had a massage before,” I admit, trying not to smile.

  Cole’s eyes shift from mine to my chest and then back. “And if you don’t get over there on your table and keep those nipples out of view, you won’t today, either,” he mutters.

  I look down and notice that my nipples are hard and pointed straight at him. With a squeak, I turn around and rush over to my table. Cole chuckles behind me, and I hear him rustling around as well. “I want to know more about you, and I didn’t want to be tempted to kiss and touch you.”

  “Well, we won’t be able to touch,” I whisper as I lay down on my stomach before I pull the warm thick sheet up to my waist and remove my robe. Turning my head to face Cole, I notice that he’s doing the same. He smiles, and his teeth show. It completely melts me.

  “Where are you from, Jessa?” he whispers.

  “Grant, you?” I ask, keeping my voice low as well.

  “Colorado Springs. I was hired on about five years ago. Before this, I was a football coach at a community college; before that, a high school,” he says. I can’t believe how much life he’s lived. I feel so young next to him. Not in a bad way, but in an inexperienced way.

  “How old are you?”

  He clears his throat before he lets out a chuckle. “Thirty-eight. Is that a problem?”

  The masseuses walk in and explains to each of us what they’ll be doing. We both have women, and for some reason, the thought of another woman massaging oil on Cole makes me irrationally upset. I bite the inside of my cheek in an effort to tamp down my jealousy.

  “It’s not a problem for me,” I admit, returning back to our conversation.

  I like that he’s older.

  There’s something about him that feels right. He’s seemingly calm, level headed, and in control. Trent is none of those things. I hate that I immediately compare Cole to Trent, or Trent to Cole. I don’t want to think about Trent at all, not in the slightest. When Cole touches me, I don’t. Nobody and nothing exists but him and me.