by Piper Rayne
“My hip, but I'm fine.” She waves me off, but my hands unbutton her jeans, pulling them down.
“I'm fine, really.”
“Lift your ass.”
She does.
“Dax, it's nothing that I haven't dealt with before.”
I get her jeans to mid-thigh, and she rolls over. Sure enough, there’s a huge bruise on her left hip and ass.
“Shit, Demi,” My hand hesitantly runs over her injury.
“Remember this next time you think I'm chicken for not wanting to go on a rollercoaster.”
She laughs it off, but I don't find it very funny. It's all black and blue and will definitely affect her upcoming performance in the Classics.
“Demi, it's bad. Did your mom see it, the trainers?”
She nods, sucks in a breath and her eyes are glass so I know she's fighting tears. I just don’t know if it’s the pain from the injury or something else. “It's the cost of competing at this level. You know that as well as I do. Now.”
She holds out her arms, but I can't in good faith handcuff her to the bed like I planned. I had visions of being more on the rough side, but she's already dealt with enough today.
I shake my head getting up from the bed and walk into the bathroom.
“Dax,” she sighs.
I come back out of the bathroom, grabbing her jacket off the hanger on the back of the door. “Pull up your pants.”
Her back is resting on her headboard. “That's not something I ever thought I’d hear you say.”
“Trust me, me either, but we're going to my room.”
Rising to her feet, she buttons her jeans.
“And grab a pair of sweatpants.”
“Sweatpants and Valentine's Day don't really mix.”
“You underestimate yourself. You can make sweatpants sexy.” I waggle my eyebrows.
She stops all movement, her eyes on me, a smile on her lips. “Did you just compliment me?”
I grab her hand, placing her jacket in it. “You act like I never say nice things to you.”
“Well...”
I shake my head, we're not going to start a fight when she needs to get some damn ice on that injury.
“What about the bag?” she asks once we’re half out the door.
I head back in the room, grab bag number one and join her at the door.
“I was thinking bag number two,” she says in a low voice that almost has me turning around to grab it off the bed.
“Are you crazy? There's no sex play tonight.” I grab her hand and we start walking down the hall after she locks her door.
“What fun is that? I want to use all the toys you bought.”
A group of guys looks at us as I'm dragging her down the hall.
“Let her use the toys, man,” one dipshit shouts once he's a good distance away.
“Mind your own fucking business,” I yell back.
The group laugh and head down the stairway.
After a few minutes, we reach the door to my room.
“This seems so unnecessary,” she says. “I get bruises all the time.”
I dig into my jacket for the keys. “Yeah, but you probably didn't have your prelims so soon after.”
She saddles up to me, her fingers raking down the front of my shirt and then she twists her hand and palms my dick through my pants. “I don't want you to take it easy tonight.”
“Good thing it's not your choice.” I open my door. “Now it's not all pretty and nice like yours, but it has what we need.”
She steps into my personal space, her eyes taking in the empty walls, the half-made bed, the clothes thrown over the desk chair.
“I said no judging.” I head to the bathroom to grab the ace bandage and towels.
“It's very minimalistic.”
“Is that a nice way to say ugly?” I ask.
She's sitting on my bed when I get out and I head to the mini fridge and freezer, grabbing a couple of ice packs.
“No. I'm just surprised you have nothing personal here.”
She eyes Grady's side of the room where there’s a neatly made bed, although I guarantee that was Mia. But he does have pictures of his family, all of his shit lined up nicely, whereas my deodorant and hair gel are strewn across my dresser along with spare change and anything else I dig out of my pockets at night.
“We're here for only a few weeks.” I shrug then wave my hand in the air for her to stand.
She obliges, but her eyes are still scrutinizing where I sleep.
My hands move to the button of her jeans, and then the zipper. Her lids grow heavy as she watches. I pull them down to the floor and she steps out of them, her fingers now threading through my hair for balance.
Being eye level with her pussy and seeing the wet spot on her panties, doesn’t exactly make it easy to do the right thing. But more than I want to get laid right now, I want to do the right thing by Demi and I’m choosing to ignore why that might be the case.
I lean forward, inhaling her scent and placing my lips on the wet silk of her panties. Her hands tighten in my hair and for a second, I consider ripping the fabric from her body.
“I'm going to miss you tonight,” I say.
She giggles, and I rise to my feet, kissing her lips.
“You're cockblocking yourself?”
Needing just one more taste of her, I grip the back of her neck and pull her to me. She yelps but the surprise quickly falls away as she meets the frantic pace of my kiss.
I pull away abruptly. “Okay, focus, Dax,” I say to myself. “Lay down on your side.” I nod at the bed behind her.
“Hmm...that sounds promising.”
She lays down on my bed in my sheets and I chastise myself mentally for how much I seem to like that. Demi flinches when I press the towel covered ice pack over her bruise. I've been where she is, and I know it sucks balls, but she's got to heal a bit before her event.
Wrapping the ace bandage around her leg, my fingers graze her panties more than once and my poor, frustrated dick twitches each and every time. She’s not helping—each time my fingers brush against the silk a small moan escapes her. I have to blink to make my eyes focus on my goal.
After she's all set, I put a pillow under her thigh and hand her the remote. “You need to sit there twenty minutes with the ice.”
She takes the remote, resting it in her hand.
I turn to step away, but her hand grips mine. “Dax.”
Her voice is so soft I can barely hear her, but I turn back around.
“Thank you.”
I swear her eyes look watery, but why would they be? All I did was wrap her leg and refuse to have sex with her.
“We're friends, right?” I ask, re-establishing the boundaries we put in place.
Her lips dip slightly before she smiles. “Yeah. Friends.”
I swallow down the lump in my throat and go to my fridge, grabbing us some electrolyte fruit drinks. Maybe I should have just slept with her. Seems like it would’ve been easier.
Chapter Fourteen
Our heads rest millimeters apart, our fingers inches away from one another, our breaths releasing in an even stream. With my laptop propped up on my suitcase, we Netflix and Chill in the literal sense.
“Hey, can I ask you a question?” I turn toward her.
“What?” Her eyes remain on the screen.
“Do you love alpine skiing?”
She doesn't respond right away. She winces, turning her body sideways to look at me.
“Don't.”
She shakes off my concern. “I'm good.” Her hands tuck under my pillow and there's something way too intimate going on right now, but this must be what having a girl for a friend is like.
I've never had a real female friend before and that's half the reason I don't understand Beckett and Skylar. They’re always touching each other without ever getting to the really good stuff. What’s the point? But having Demi in my bed warms parts of me that are normally cold and vacant. Being friends
with a girl is a lot different than being one with a guy.
“I'll answer the question if you answer one of mine,” she finally says.
Of course, I should’ve known Demi wouldn't put herself out there if I wasn't prepared to do the same. The question is, am I? Not many people in my life know about my family situation. Grady and Brandon are the only ones. All Beckett really knows is my family is as absent as his.
“Okay, but be kind,” I say.
She giggles, her hand shoving me. “Sure.”
She thinks for a moment, her eyes staring up at the ceiling and she inhales a few deep breaths. “I did. I mean, I do enjoy it.” Her face scrunches. “I think I'd like it a lot more if my mom wasn't so involved. She makes it hard. It's the classic story of a child never feeling good enough.”
I nod. From the small things she's mentioned I figured as much. “Why don't you ask her to stop coaching you?”
She huffs. “Have you met my mother?”
“I haven't had the pleasure.”
“She’d never let me train solely with another coach where she didn’t have any input. Mother knows best. She's a three-time medalist. Her not being involved is not even a remote possibility.” The smile on her face looks forced and I hate it. “It's not all bad though. I mean I might not be here if it wasn't for her. She pushed me when I wanted to play with Barbies instead. And I do have love for the sport. When I'm on that hill, she's not in my ear and it's just me and my skis. Those are my favorite moments.”
“What would you do if you didn't ski?”
It's a tough question and I don't even have an answer if I was asked myself. During off-season, I freak out about what I'll do when I'm too old to compete in this sport.
A long stream of breath leaves her mouth. “Teach it?” she laughs. “I have no idea. Every winter I've skied. My mom always arranged for me to go to school through summer to have the winters off. I know nothing else.”
“Me either.”
We sit in a comfortable silence for a minute before she speaks again.
“Is it my turn now? You asked two.”
I chuckle, always one to stay on course. “Hit me.”
“Your family, how come they don't come to support you?”
“Man, you're hitting the bullseye first.” I lay my hand over my heart, implying this is the topic I don't really like to talk about. Which is putting it mildly.
“Hey, you hit me where it hurt, too.”
I shake my head because she’s got me there. “Ah, my family. I could say finances. My mom always says she has to work. My brothers both have families.”
“But you're competing to be the best in the world. It doesn’t get any bigger than that.”
This is why I never talk to people about it. It's hard for them to understand.
“I've offered to pay, but they say they can watch it on television. That the money should go to something better than traveling and staying in a hotel.”
Her lips turn down and her forehead crinkles.
Yeah, I don't get it either.
“What does your mom do?”
“She's a waitress.”
That does nothing to change her look. Nope, she's not some high-power attorney who can't get a moment of free time for herself. She's not a doctor on call. She serves drinks at a rundown bar in the middle of Vermont.
“I don't know, I'm the youngest and my mom was so busy working to put food on the table that there wasn’t much time or attention left for me.”
“What about your dad?”
“Nu-uh. My turn.”
She smiles that million-dollar grin I'm starting to become addicted to.
“Julien? Did you, do you love him?”
I'm not sure why I care, but when I saw her face at the karaoke night and how hurt she was, I wondered if there was more to it than just dating.
“God, no.” She rolls onto her back, entwining her hands over her stomach, her chest rising up and falling with deep breaths. Then she turns back my way, but her eyes shift around like she doesn’t want to look directly at me. “I think it was like the last straw, but more like the last guy.”
“Meaning?”
She tilts her head as though I’m supposed to get what she’s saying.
“It was four years ago for us,” I say.
“True...but since then I haven't had a true relationship. All the guys I date seem to like me enough to sleep with me, but that's about it. I mean, I get that we all have crazy schedules and it's hard to get something started, but it's like I wasn't worth it. Being tossed aside—again—it hurts.” A tear slips down her cheek.
Fuck. My heart hiccups, my stomach clenches so hard I swallow down the bile rising from the disgust I feel at being one of the guys who made her feel that way.
“I'm sorry.” I hope she can hear the sincerity in my voice.
“Don't be. It's just...” She pauses, and I let her collect her thoughts rather than interrupting like I usually do in uncomfortable situations. “It probably all stems from my relationship with my mom. I'm sure a counselor would have a field day with my mommy issues. It's like I'll never be good enough in her eyes and I think I find that feeling easy to transfer over to other relationships.”
Makes sense and it doesn’t surprise me that she knows this about herself. One thing about Demi is that she’s not a bullshitter. Not with anyone else and apparently not with herself either.
“That's why I agreed to this thing between us. I needed to have some fun and know that there were no expectations. So, thank you.” Her hand nudges my shoulder. “I've had a lot of fun this Winter Classics.”
Again, the fact that she has no expectations of me gnaws at my gut when it should make me rejoice.
“So...your dad?” she asks, switching topics.
I huff. “Your guess is as good as mine. He walked out when I was one and never returned.”
She blows out a long breath. “Oh, that sucks.”
“Not really. If he doesn't want to be part of my life, then I don't want to be part of his.”
I've always been fine with the fact my dad left. My brothers feel differently but maybe that's because they remember him more. You can't miss something you never had. There were times I'd see Grady and his dad or Brandon and his, and think what if, but I've been on my own for so long that I accept it for what it is.
“That's very untherapeutic. A counselor wouldn't make any money off of you.” She giggles.
“I'm sure if you dug deep enough you could find something worth exploring.”
She slides closer to me, her hand cradling my cheek. “I bet that’s true. You're nothing like what I assumed.”
I knock my forehead with hers. “Is that a compliment?”
“Yeah, it is.”
A spurt of electric energy erupts in my stomach and I suck in a breath because whatever it was, it felt good...too fucking good.
“Your turn,” she whispers. I want to feel her body, but I know the best thing for her is rest, so I try to use all that willpower I have and keep my hands to myself.
“Favorite color?”
She draws her head back, studying my face. “Aqua. You?”
“Black.”
“Heartless, huh?”
“I was kidding, Manatee.”
“Manatee? What color is that?”
I shake my head like I'm disappointed in her. “Have you never read the colors on crayons?”
“No. Typically I stick with the color wheel.” She chuckles.
“You're missing out then. Manatee is a grayish blue. And there's not just Aquamarine, there's Caribbean Green or Tropical Rain Forest. You really need to up your game if we're going to be friends.”
I stiffen my body in anticipation of a playful hit. Usually, when I say some smart-ass remark, her reflex is to hit or kick me. Instead, her lips land on mine, her hand holding me in place by the back of my neck.
Our tongues instantly perfect the dance they've been practicing the past week and soon I'm on my ba
ck with her on top of me.
She slows the kiss. “You're an odd duck, Dax Campbell.”
“You love that about me, admit it.”
I feel her smile against my lips. “Yeah, I do.”
I ease her off my body. “Stop trying to take advantage of me. You need to ice again.”
She falls to her back, her eyes rolling as she does. “The best remedy would be sex.”
I roll off the bed and head over to the freezer. “You really are insatiable.”
She shrugs.
“I must be killer in bed.”
She throws a towel across the room at me. “Cocky ass.”
“It's not cocky if it’s the truth.” I signal for her to roll over and she does as I ask, and I place the ice pack on her bruise. “No worries, babe, once this is better, I plan on making up for lost time.”
“I'm holding you to that.”
Finally, she expects something from me.
Chapter Fifteen
“You ready? This is it.” Coach Fitzgerald slaps me on my back and I fumble forward.
I can already feel how off I am. Demi and I stayed up late, talking about how drastically different our childhoods were. She grew up near Aspen in what I imagine is a mansion on a mountain. Whereas I, scraped change up off the sidewalk just to buy a candy bar on the way home from school. Her bedroom held a canopy bed and mine a twin mattress on the floor in the corner of a bedroom I shared with my brothers.
I didn't tell Demi everything, I didn't want to appear like I was that lacking, but I think she got the point when I mentioned how I loved to go over to Grady's house growing up because there was always drinks and snacks out for their B&B guests. We were poor, but I survived.
Maybe if I would’ve been handed everything I wanted I wouldn’t have strived to be where I am now. I wouldn't be standing on top of this mountain questioning whether I can do enough to make it to the finals.
My body is drained, and it hasn’t escaped me that I didn't sleep with Demi last night which means all the luck is gone. What's wrong with me? Her leg sucks but not that bad, she could’ve had sex. She definitely wanted to have sex and like a moron, I turned her down. Now I'll be dragging ass all day.
