by Kyra Lennon
“Sorry,” I said. “I’m sorry.”
“I didn’t -” he began.
“I know. I’m sorry. I guess I’m over-emotional today.”
I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. I went back to the other bed, feeling like a complete idiot. Really, it was no surprise that I was defensive after all the times he’d tried to touch me, or drag me into an embrace but it didn’t stop me trying to figure out a way to polite go back to my own room.
“You’re not gonna leave now, are you?” McCoy asked.
“You want me to stay?”
“Yeah, I do. I feel like crap and I don’t want to be on my own. From what I can tell, you don’t either.”
He had a point. Spending the evening alone would mean suffering from homesickness and missing Miguel. At least if I stayed with Radleigh, I’d have someone to talk to.
Once I’d relaxed again, I took my shoes off and curled up on the bed. As Radleigh was bed-ridden, we ordered food then watched part of a comedy movie, which we had to turn off half way through because the laughter made his head hurt.
“I was enjoying that,” I said as I switched the television off and went to sit beside him on his bed, where he was covering his eyes with his arm.
“You’re a bitch,” he moaned. “I’m in pain. This is your fault for making me watch that movie.”
“You’re such a drama queen. Besides, you were enjoying it too.”
“Until it gave me a headache.”
“Because you were laughing, because you were enjoying it,” I finished, with a smugness that rivalled his own.
He peered up at me from behind his arm. “You’re not half bad to be around when you’re not being uptight.”
“Well, you’re not half bad to be around when you’re not being a sleaze.”
Before he had a chance to respond, my mobile bleeped, alerting me to a text.
I grabbed my phone and clicked to read.
I think you are well fit. Did I get that right? :D
I threw my head back, dissolving into giggles. Clearly Miguel was taking his British slang lessons seriously.
Very good! You’re a top bloke. Xx
A few seconds passed before his reply. Oh come on, you’re really testing me now! Xx
Keep practising! Xx
I put my phone down on the bed, amused and warmed by Miguel’s messages. After reading them, all I wanted to do was curl up in my own room and talk to him, so I stood up and said, “I think it’s time for bed.”
“Why? You need to go and talk dirty with your boyfriend?”
So much for him not being a sleaze.
Choosing to ignore his comment, I slid my phone into my pocket and picked up my laptop. “Is there anything you need before I go?”
He finally put his arm down by his side, allowing me to see just how tired he looked. “You could stay here.”
“I don’t think so,” I told him. “That would be unprofessional.”
“I’ve built a career out of being unprofessional.”
I almost smiled. He certainly didn’t gain his nickname for playing fair.
“I built mine by working hard and gaining a good reputation.”
He shrugged, and I took that as my cue to leave. After a relatively drama free day, I didn’t want it to end in an argument neither of us had the energy for. We were both still alive after eight hours together. I figured I could chalk that up as a win.
.
Chapter 6: There's A Teenager Inside Every Man
I woke up the next day more rested than I’d felt in ages. Perhaps it was because I’d fallen asleep knowing I wouldn’t have to fight with my alarm clock in the morning.
Or perhaps it was because I’d spent two hours on the phone to Miguel, making plans for our date.
Time couldn’t move fast enough for me, but going home heavily depended on how quickly Radleigh recovered from his head injury.
He had a visit from the doctor in the morning and I sat with him, every muscle in my body tense throughout the examination. Thankfully, the doctor gave him the all clear to fly home the next day, as long as he promised to take things easy.
McCoy pretended to be cool but he was obviously relieved to be on the mend. He called Richard to tell him the news, while I called the airline and booked us seats on the afternoon flight to Los Angeles.
Even though the doctor gave us good news, Radleigh was still under strict orders to keep resting which sort of limited our activities. After lunch, he asked me to accompany him for a walk around the hotel grounds and I wasn’t cruel enough to make him go alone, especially when he was still so unsteady on his feet.
We wandered at a leisurely pace along the pathway through the beautifully mowed lawn towards the river that flowed at the bottom of the gardens, the sunshine on my back warming me through the thin material of my khaki shirt. We sat down on a bench overlooking the stream where ducks were swimming, and dipping their heads under the water in play. Radleigh leaned back rubbing his neck, completely oblivious to the beauty surrounding him.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, my neck’s a bit stiff from being in bed for so long. I’ll be fine when I can move around again.”
“You can’t rush it. You’ve still got to take it slowly for a while.”
He nodded, obviously just humouring me. The man thought he was a superhero.
“Your dad was a soccer player too, right?” I asked, remembering a profile I’d read on him. I had no idea I’d retained any of the information until the question slipped out of my mouth.
“Yeah, and my grandfather too. One day I’d like to have a son following in my footsteps.”
“After all the women you’ve slept with, you might already have a whole soccer team you don’t even know about.”
A jolt of guilt hit me hard, unexpectedly. Nope, still not okay to joke about that.
“Ha ha,” Radleigh said, blind to my discomfort. “My dad played with Richard in Missouri for a while until Richard transferred to Westberg.”
“Wow, so Richard’s known you your whole life?”
He nodded. “Pretty much.”
Richard had never given any indication that he knew McCoy before he played for Westberg. In fact, my boss showed mostly disdain for him in matters that weren’t directly related to his talent on the field. I suspected his complete lack of respect was the biggest problem.
“I screwed his daughter,” Radleigh said in response to my unspoken question.
I rolled my eyes. “Of course you did.”
As he attempted to explain his behaviour, I walked around the bench to stand behind him and gently batted his hand away from his neck so I could massage his shoulders. I wasn’t quite sure what had possessed me to do it. I guess healing pain was instinctive to me.
“Oh God,” he moaned, halting his piss poor excuses for defiling the boss’ daughter.
I ran my thumb slowly but firmly up and down the back of his neck, trying hard not to enjoy the feeling of his muscles beneath my fingers. “Control yourself.”
“If you knew how good this feels, you’d understand.”
“It’s supposed to feel good, it’s not supposed to be a turn-on.”
“Okay, let’s swap places and we’ll see if you can still make the same statement.”
“Shut up or I’ll stop.”
“Don’t even think about it.”
Knowing my touch had such an effect on him made me feel … powerful, like it was finally me who was in control. Dominance wasn’t usually my thing, but when it came to McCoy, I really got a kick out of it. I hoped he’d keep quiet because I wanted to continue torturing him for a bit longer.
“What would Miguel say if he knew you were giving me a massage?” he asked. “If I found out my girlfriend had been rubbing some other guy’s shoulders, I’d be pretty pissed.”
With two short sentences, he took the power back again. Just like always.
“First of all,” I said, increasing my force on his shoulders, “until
you stop screwing around that’s something you don’t need to worry about. And second of all, I’m fairly sure Miguel would understand this is a massage, nothing more.”
“Hey, take it easy,” Radleigh said, hunching up at my vice-like grip. “I get the message. I shouldn’t have said anything, and I can’t take an argument right now, so please can you forgive me and maybe ease the pressure?”
I dropped my hands down to my sides and sighed. “Why do you always need to annoy me just when we’re actually managing to have a conversation?”
“I enjoy flirting with you. I went too far.”
“You always go too far.”
“Well if you weren’t so damn hot, I’d be able to control myself.”
“You’re not a horny teenager, you’re a grown man!” I said, ignoring the stirring sensation inside me.
Hypocrite.
“There is a teenager inside every man,” Radleigh stated. “Even Miguel.”
“Miguel is nothing like you.”
An internal battle was happening inside him, I could see it in his eyes. To his credit, he kept his thoughts to himself but it didn’t mean I couldn’t hear and feel every one of them.
The same way he seemed to hear and feel every one of mine.
****
On Tuesday morning, I did something a little crazy. To prove I didn’t buy into Radleigh’s unspoken theory that I had more in common with him than Miguel, I agreed to spend the morning exploring Phoenix with him. I needed to pick up a tacky souvenir from Arizona for my collection anyway. Perhaps if he got to see me at my dorkiest, he’d realise we were worlds apart in terms of, well, everything.
Radleigh came to my room just after nine, while I was trying to straighten my hair. I let him in and told him to make himself comfortable while I finished off.
My hair was being particularly stubborn, and looking at the frizzy mess in the bathroom mirror, I sighed. Some days it was easier to avoid the hassle and scrape it back out of the way. It wasn’t like I had anyone I needed to look good for.
When I stepped out of the bathroom, Radleigh was sitting on the edge of my bed, talking on his mobile phone. I put my straighteners into my suitcase then hunted round the room for my key card.
“No, she’s out of the bathroom now,” I heard him say, and the words halted my search. Why is he talking about me? A jolt of realisation made me spring in to action and I snatched my phone from his hand, shooting him a poisonous glare. If I hadn’t been so considerate and stopped myself listening in, I might have realised sooner that he had answered my mobile.
“Hello,” I said, annoyance prominent in my tone.
How the fuck dare he pick up my phone without permission?
“Leah?”
“Hi Bree, sorry about that.”
“Um, why is Radleigh McCoy in your room so early?”
“We’re going to have a look around Phoenix. Why?”
“Are you dressed?”
“What?” I laughed. “Of course I am!”
“He said you were in the shower.”
Suddenly, everything slid into place. Radleigh leaned back on my bed, smirking. I picked up the nearest thing to hand, which happened to be my hairbrush, and threw it at him, enjoying the satisfying smack it made as the wooden handle hit his arm.
“Bree, I was not in the shower! McCoy is just being a pillock. You don’t think I would have let him in here while I was …” I trailed off, reluctant to use the word ‘naked’ in front of him, “ … showering.”
“Well, I … no. But I panicked when he answered the phone because it’s early and he lied and-”
“You thought I’d gone over to the dark side? Bree, I am immune to sexual predators like McCoy.”
He grinned at me as if he was proud of the title. I had to turn away because his smug smile made me want to throw something else at him.
The next nearest thing was a heavy lamp.
“So, everything’s okay?” Bree asked.
“Everything’s fine.”
“Oh good. It would be so icky if you did anything with him!”
“The only thing I plan to do with him involves a shovel and a big hole in the ground. Can I call you back later?”
“Sure,” she giggled. “Bye Leah.”
Taking a long breath, I turned back to Radleigh. “What the hell did you think you were doing answering my phone?”
“I thought I was doing you a favour,” he said, smiling.
“No you didn’t, you smug piece of crap. You were trying to cause trouble.”
“Relax. Bree wouldn’t have told anyone.”
“That’s not the point! I don’t want anyone getting the wrong idea about us!”
“Maybe she got the right idea,” he said, tilting his head back slightly the way he always did when he was challenging me. “Maybe the reason she believed what I said is because she knows you’re in to me.”
“Or maybe you have way too high an opinion of yourself.”
I tried not to think about the unavoidable fact that he had every right to. For the first time since he’d arrived in my room, I looked at him properly. The dark circles under his eyes had gone, and the colour had returned to his cheeks. The tattoos on his upper arms were just visible, peering out from underneath the short sleeves of his black t-shirt, and my eyes kept drifting back to them as he spoke.
“That doesn’t stop what I said being true,” he said, standing up. “You could have gone home with Miguel but you chose to stay here with me. And I saw the look on your face when you came to visit me. You were worried.”
“You were in pain. I’d have been worried about anyone in that condition.”
“It was more than that.”
“You’re delusional,” I told him, forcing my gaze back to his face.
“Cut the crap, Leah. You didn’t stay here because you had to. You stayed because you wanted to.”
“I stayed because nobody else wanted to be stuck here with you!”
I turned away, ready to open the door for him to leave but he grabbed my wrist and pulled me to him. As I stumbled against him, my fingers twitched with longing as they gripped the taut muscles beneath them. Without giving me a second to think, his hands grasped my hips.
His lips were infuriating. Soft, full, and unquestionably hungry. Every time they brushed against mine, my anger was replaced by excitement, and something resembling relief. His tongue found mine, dancing in rhythm as his hands dug into my sides, keeping me close.
‘No, no, this can’t happen!’ a voice said from the depths of my mind. ‘Stop. Now.’
I moved away from him slightly, my heart racing. I couldn’t speak. I could barely breathe.
“Don’t even try telling me you want me to stop,” Radleigh said.
Desperation tinged his voice and while I hesitated, he lowered his face towards mine and kissed me again.
Oh God!
My head spun, my legs weakened and when his hand snaked underneath my shirt and touched my bare skin, for a second I was more than willing to let him keep going.
Are you insane? He tried to have you fired for Christ’s sake, and now you’re letting him grope you?
It was like being doused with a bucket of cold water and I pushed him away.
“Leah-”
“Don’t, okay?” I snapped, holding my hands up. “Don’t ever do that again.”
Radleigh stared at me for a moment with an expression I couldn’t read. I hated how he read my thoughts so well yet I didn’t have a clue what went on inside his head. You know, apart from, ‘Girl pretty. Must shag her.’ After letting his eyes burn through me for a moment, he turned and walked out.
I threw myself down on my bed, trying to slow my racing heartbeat. Trying to shift the feeling of his hands on my hips, and the taste of his kiss firmly out of my mind.
It was too late.
Letting out a groan of frustration, I rolled over on to my back, wishing I could rewind the morning and start again. With one kiss, he’d forced me to
face up to what I’d been denying since the moment we met. I wanted him. Purely physical, but I wanted him all the same. I recognised the pattern only too well. The instant attraction, the flirting, the sheer aggravation of being in a situation like this with a guy I hated.
There weren’t many guys like McCoy. Sure, there were thousands who had misplaced cockiness and charm, but not so many who had a reason for it.
Growing up in England had been dull. All through my schooldays I kept the same bunch of friends, and every weekend we struggled to find ways to entertain ourselves.
When I turned sixteen, we started hanging out in one of the two local pubs in Zellor on Friday nights. We were allowed in, provided we kept out of trouble and stuck to non-alcoholic drinks. That was okay with me. I got drunk on the atmosphere. For me, the best part of our nights out was the men. The variety. It was like being in a sweet shop with permission to take whatever you wanted.
So I did.
I lost my virginity a week before my seventeenth birthday in the alleyway alongside the pub. Not my finest moment, I admit. In one year I bedded guys my age, older men, married men. I didn’t care about seeing them again, I just wanted the buzz from being with someone new.
In short, I was just like McCoy.
I let out a deep sigh, moving my focus back to the present. To Radleigh. I wasn’t a teenager anymore and my decisions needed to be made on more than a passing physical attraction, however strong. I had so much more to lose. My job which I loved more than any I’d had before, and Miguel.
I hugged my pillow close to me as I thought of him. I’d missed him since we’d been apart, and I’d been so looking forward to seeing him. Now it would be tainted by the guilt of what I’d done. I couldn’t even justify it by saying, “It was only a kiss” or “Miguel and I haven’t even been on an official date yet”. Nothing excused my actions. I was no longer a clueless eighteen-year-old, and I should have stopped the kiss sooner than I did.
