My father seemed to assume I’d follow in his footsteps. He managed a hedge fund in Boston. It would be the path of least resistance, and he made a bundle from it. But it was hard for me to imagine waking up every day and being motivated by that. He got a thrill from money that I’d never experienced. He claimed it was because I was spoiled and had never known life without it. He might be right, but that didn’t change the fact that I wasn’t motivated by amassing money. Swimming was my lifeblood, what drove and fueled me. Maybe there’d be some way to do that professionally, coaching or running a swim facility, or something else I hadn’t thought of yet. I wondered what Emma would suggest.
Emma. She was never far from my mind. But I still didn’t know much about her. I’d frozen right up when she’d tried to talk to me last night. I’d had years of experience not opening up, shutting people down. It was like an automatic reflex. I wasn’t even sure I knew how to go about doing things differently. But she made me want to try.
There was something so humble and sweet about her. She downplayed her own athleticism, but I knew she pushed herself, set her own goals and worked toward them. But she struck me as balanced, too, with a peaceful sort of calm at her center. No, I didn’t know much about her yet, but I knew I loved being around her.
She felt so good, her skin silky smooth, her hair velvety soft when she wore it down at night. I couldn’t help stealing every opportunity I could to touch her. It was like a fever building in me, burning me up. I knew we’d fit together, she and I, her perfect breasts in my hands, her straddling me as I took her against the wall or in the shower or over and over again in bed.
OK. Time to go workout. With a massive erection. I adjusted myself and pulled on baggy athletic shorts and a loose T-shirt to hit the gym. We were due to leave San Antonio in three days. After a weekend off, we’d all meet up again at another training facility in Georgia. Our original plans to head to Rio early had been changed due to concerns over the Zika virus, so we’d be staying in the U.S. until the first of August.
I grabbed a water bottle and headed out into the mid-day near-100-degree heat and humidity. It was a good day to stay indoors, especially if you had the right person with you under the right set of circumstances. I was sure Emma and I could find lots of ways to enjoy my hotel room. But that wasn’t happening, at least not at the moment, so I chose the next best option: pounding it out at the gym.
§
“You’re tense tonight.” Emma worked on my shoulder, the one that had prevented me from competing the last time around. I’d devoted so much time to resting, then stretching and strengthening that shoulder. This summer, it wouldn’t hold me back.
“Opening day is in 18 days. My first event is the day after.” These weren’t days made for relaxation. I felt coiled like a snake waiting to strike.
“But you need to relax so you have the energy to compete.”
“Relax,” I repeated, as if never having heard the word before. She finished, giving me one last stroke. Man, I loved the way she touched me. The woman was magic.
“Yes, relax. It’s this thing people do when they’re not working.” She headed into the kitchen to wash the oil off her hands and get herself a bottle of water. She came back with one for me, too.
“I’ve heard about it.” I nodded, as if considering a strange, foreign concept.
“Seriously, how do you unwind?”
“I pummel my body into exhaustion and then I fall asleep,” I replied honestly. Sex, too. That worked. But I edited that option out for her.
“Have you tried yoga?”
What followed was a ridiculous half hour. First, she modeled yoga poses with grace, balance and insane flexibility. That part I really enjoyed, seeing her twist her limbs into all sorts of contortions. Yes, we could have a lot of fun, she and I.
But then the ridiculousness would kick in, when she tried to guide me into the same poses. In the water, I was Poseidon, king of the ocean. On land, I was less agile. Balance was not my middle name. I felt like a big, dumb oaf next to her, especially after she stood there holding a perfect bow pose, arm extended, hand wrapped around her lifted ankle as she balanced on one foot. I sure enjoyed watching her do that pose. But me? Not going to happen.
Laughing as I tumbled out of yet another failed attempt, she admitted defeat. For now. “We’ll have to work on that,” she agreed.
“As long as you’re the one teaching me, I’m all for it.”
She smiled, then looked away, shyness overcoming her. As much as I loved it, watching a touch of pink steal across her cheeks, I knew where it could lead. Any second now she might pull away, pick herself up and head over to the door to say goodnight. I needed to act fast.
I reached out and took her hand. “Want to hang out and watch a movie?”
She pulled away, not meeting my eye, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I should probably go.”
No! “We could play a game.”
“Do you have Monopoly lying around here somewhere?” She looked around my room, clearly not believing my offer.
“I have a deck of cards.” I stood up, wondering where they were. Or if I actually had them. Maybe we could play poker? Strip poker.
“No strip poker.”
Damn it. “Want a beer?” I headed for the kitchen.
“Are you drinking?” she called after me.
Damn it again. This close to the ultimate competition, the moment for which I’d been preparing my entire life, no, I was not drinking. After the games, hell yeah. But right now I was staying stone-cold sober.
“I’m going to have another smoothie,” I admitted. So sexy. If I were James Bond I’d be mixing an exotic and potent cocktail that would get her out of her clothes in 60 seconds. But I was me, which meant I was making a peanut butter chocolate shake.
“Ooh! Can I have some?”
She came to join me and I gave her a wink and a smile. “Do you just like me for my smoothies?”
“Guilty as charged.”
I worked my magic. I’d figured out how to pack nearly 1,000 calories into a shake. You could do it if you substituted ice cream, chocolate syrup and whipped cream for almond milk.
We settled together on the couch, her sipping at a small glass, me chugging my gallon. I really knew how to impress the ladies. Wiping any possible chocolate mustache from my face, I turned to her.
“So, I’m not sure I have a deck of cards. And I do not own Monopoly. But we could always play truth or dare.”
“That’s a drinking game.”
“I know. I’m sorry I’m not drinking. I know I’m a buzz kill.”
“Are you kidding?” She reached over and put a hand on my forearm. Her touch felt electric. I wondered if she felt it, too. She swallowed, looked down to where our skin touched, then removed her hand. Flustered, she continued. “It’s a nice change of pace. I like to drink, but my last boyfriend hit it pretty hard. It could get kind of scary.”
“Did he hurt you?” I could go find him and hurt him if he had.
“No, it wasn’t like that. He just got out of control. And he liked to fight.”
“Sounds like a great guy.” I still might have to go find him and hurt him.
She shrugged. “When he was sober and trying to impress me? Sure he was. It just took me a while to see through it.”
Yes, I would have to put that at the top of my post-Olympic to do list. Find Emma’s former boyfriend and make him pay. The look of hurt, embarrassment and maybe even shame that crossed her lovely face made my stomach twist into a knot.
“Hey.” I stretched my arm along the back of the couch, letting my fingers caress her shoulder. “It’s not your fault that you wanted to believe in him. It’s his fault for taking advantage of your trust.”
I must have said the right thing because she brightened up, looking at me with gratitude. “So you want to play truth or dare, huh?”
I nodded. Emphasis on the dare. I had some great dares I’d like to try out on her.
“You�
��ll just choose dare all the time.”
D’oh! She saw right through me. “You might be right,” I admitted.
“OK, how about three truths, then one dare?”
“One truth, one dare,” I bargained.
“Two truths, one dare,” she countered.
I took a moment to consider her offer. “Done. I’ll start. What’s your favorite part of your job?”
“That’s easy,” she replied straight away. “Making people happy.”
“Happy? Not healthy?” She was a healthcare professional after all.
“They’re pretty tightly connected,” she reflected. “When you’re in pain and feeling awful physically, it’s hard to feel happy. I love easing people’s stress and injuries. It’s like giving them a window into a whole other way to live.”
And just like that, I fell for her even harder. She was such a good person. “That’s cool.” I got even more eloquent when I felt something deeply.
“Thanks. Now it’s my turn. What’s the hardest part of training?”
“Holding back.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. You have to learn such discipline, how to go at just 60 percent, 80 percent. I’m all about adrenaline, pushing myself to the wall and past.”
“That’s…a little crazy.”
“Yeah, of course it is. All top competitors are off their rockers, didn’t you know that?” I gave her a crazy smile and got one in return. “I’ll tell you what my favorite week is. Altitude training. We do it up in Colorado and at first you feel like you’ve got lead weights tied to your lungs. It’s awesome.”
“Sounds it,” she agreed with heavy sarcasm dripping from her words.
“Now I get to ask another truth. What’s your favorite sexual position?”
“Oh my God.” She buried her face in her hands.
“You have to answer. It’s the rules of the game. I’ve asked you a truth.”
“OK, truth?” She exhaled and seemed to muster up her strength to answer me. “I don’t think I’ve found it yet. But I would like to.”
Was she trying to kill me? The sexual tension was already so thick you could cut it with a knife. Well, someone had to tease her about what she’d said. Guess that would be me.
“It might take a lot of experimentation,” I started. “You’d have to test out all the options.” She laughed, a nice blush covering her cheeks. I loved watching her squirm. “You’d need a partner who’d be fully committed to the process. Someone who could give it his all. It could take a long, long time to really discover the best of all possible answers.”
“OK,” she stopped me, fanning herself, looking out of breath. “Now I get to ask you a question. Why did you start swimming again after you almost drowned?”
I sighed, all the wind leaving my sails. I guess part of me had figured she would go there. She obviously knew about the accident. She’d asked me about it last night. I’d learned long ago that the more you tried to keep something quiet, the more people wanted to know what happened. The thing was, what happened that night wasn’t really my story to tell. There’d been four of us out there, and everyone involved had signed non-disclosure agreements so air-tight I half expected a SWAT team to descend upon me if I ever even thought about violating it. But I guessed I could talk about what happened afterward, for me.
“You don’t have to answer that question if you don’t want to,” she murmured.
My extended silence must have communicated my reluctance. “No, it’s OK. I just don’t talk about it much.” Nearly drowning in the middle of the ocean was the most terrifying thing I’ve ever experienced. Over ten years later I still had nightmares about the cold, dark waves clutching at me like icy hands. If it hadn’t been for Liam, I’d have died.
“After the accident, I was in the hospital for a couple weeks. I couldn’t sleep through the night for a few months. It made me really angry, like the water had gotten the best of me. I had to prove that I was stronger.”
“Stronger than the ocean?”
“That’s right.” I looked at her to see if she was laughing. I knew it sounded crazy. But she wasn’t. She was looking at me with a mixture of fascination and admiration, and it helped me keep talking about something I never discussed.
“I guess I felt like I had to crush the fear or it would crush me.”
“Was it scary, getting back in the water?”
Fucking terrifying. But that felt like too much to talk about. I wasn’t ready for a full-scale psychiatric analysis. “That’s a second question, Emma. It’s time for a dare.”
Her eyes got wide. I smiled at her. “I dare you to kiss me.”
“What?” She looked so good, so nervous and eager at the same time, like she was torn between wanting to bolt and throw herself at me. I’d see what I could do about making the second one happen.
“You heard me. I won’t bite. Unless you like that.”
“Chase!”
I gave her a wolfish smile. “Come on. Are you scared?”
“Yes.” She looked scared.
“It can be quick. Here.” I pointed to my cheek.
Slowly she leaned in. She came close enough that I could feel her soft breasts grazing my chest. It took all my willpower to restrain myself and sit there, not moving, letting her do this the way she wanted.
She stopped before she got up to my cheek. Dipping her lips to my neck, she kissed me there. I nearly lost it. I groaned it felt so good, sweet and brief but the feel of her touch lingered.
She sat back, breathing faster. Heat in my eyes, I sat still, burning up, waiting to see what she’d dare me. She bit her lip and sat there. What would she say?
“Fuck it!” She closed the distance between us, climbed into my lap and threw her arms around my neck. I was down on her in an instant, devouring her lips, tasting her with my tongue hot and wet as she made sounds so eager and desiring, purring with pleasure. She fit against me perfectly.
She tensed as I started to take off her shirt. I pulled it down again. She wanted to go slow. I could go slow. Right? Couldn’t I?
“I’ll just kiss you,” I reassured her, kissing her throat, her eyelids, her lips. Her breasts were so perfect, such plump, round, gorgeous mounds, it took everything I had to keep my hands around her trim waist, fingers stroking but staying away, holding her, just holding. Even though her nipples stood out in two hard points of arousal, begging for my touch.
“I shouldn’t have done that.” She broke away, nearly throwing herself off the couch to stand several feet away. I looked at her, panting. “I should go.”
“Emma.” I didn’t move to stop her. She had to do what she had to do. But I didn’t want her to leave.
“I’m sorry, Chase.” She brought her hands up over her face. This wasn’t supposed to be so complicated. “I don’t mean to be melodramatic.”
And then she left. How was that for drama? First, she leapt into my lap, and then she ran out slamming the door behind her.
I punched my fist into the couch pillow in frustration. Had I done something to frighten her off? I’d held back, hadn’t I?
I was so wound up as I headed into the shower. I pictured her, of course I did, as I took myself in my hand. Stroking my thick, hard cock, I closed my eyes and remembered the feel of her lips, the sweet sounds of her desire. I wanted to consume her. I wanted to fuck her again and again and never come up for air. I could feel it, how good it would be to bury myself deep inside of her. She’d look so gorgeous, screaming with pleasure as I filled her to the hilt. I came with her name on my lips. And it only made me want her more.
CHAPTER 7
Emma
“Too much? Or just right?” Megan, one of the many non-swimming professionals working with the team, twirled around in front of me in a barely-there mini dress.
“You look amazing.” I chose an honest answer, and the one I could give, because I really didn’t know how comfortable she’d feel wearing something like that out to a Mexican restaurant. It would fi
t right in dancing all night at a hot club. Ordering tacos? I wasn’t so sure. But, then again, if it were up to me I might wear athletic clothes 24/7, so I might not be the best judge.
“I don’t want to be too over-the-top. But someone said this place has dancing, too, so...” She scrutinized herself in a three-way mirror, checking out her ass. Which did look great, but threatened at any moment to make a full-moon appearance. She’d better not drop anything.
She, I and a couple of other women affiliated with the team were getting ready together to head out to dinner. And dancing, apparently, which made me more excited. I loved getting my dance on. Plus it felt great to be in the middle of normal, female energy and conversation. The typical laughter, banter and “do I look good in this?” questions were a lot more relaxing than the intense dynamic between me and Chase.
For the past week in San Antonio, it felt like we’d been locked in on each other, nearly sequestered. All that time together in his hotel room, touching. Whew. I needed to head out and blow off some steam. I wanted a night as a carefree 25-year-old woman along for a wild, fun ride to the Olympic Games instead of an undercover reporter trying to scoop a man she was falling for hard and fast. I needed an escape.
The only problem was he’d be there, too. Team management had rented out the entire restaurant for dinner, for every swimmer plus the whole entourage of coaches, trainers, therapists, and the group Megan was part of handling PR/communications/apparel/event coordination and every other logistical nightmare that seemed to head their way. Rio was presenting a whole host of challenges and the coordination team was in overdrive trying to iron out wrinkles before they disrupted the swimmers.
“I think I’m going to go for it,” Megan decided, giving her reflection a nod. “But you can’t wear that.” She gave my T-shirt and shorts a derisive glance.
In Deep: Chase & Emma (All In Book 1) Page 6
