Nope. Not going to think about that.
Pull back on the reins there, man.
Easier said than done. The last two weeks at practice had been fucking torture. Every time I glanced at her, I recalled what she’d looked like that day in the locker room, when she was trying not to stare at my dick. Every time I was anywhere near her, I could smell her enticing perfume. Cherry vanilla. Fuck, it made me want to eat her. And every time she touched any of the other guys, it filled me with so much rage I about lost my goddamn mind.
She’d invaded every part of my brain, every space of my psyche.
I’d made myself take a nap on the plane just so I wouldn’t think about how she sat only two rows in front of me. And I still hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her. In my dream, she’d been massaging my right knee, her nimble fingers working it like they had magical powers.
Before I knew it, she’d been sucking my dick.
Now I had a hard-on that would most definitely be noticeable when I stood up. I didn’t think I could wait a whole thirty minutes to take care of the problem, though. And I was pretty sure it wasn’t about to go away anytime soon.
So, there I was. About to go jack off in an airplane bathroom to a girl that I saw basically every day, yet I would never be able to have.
This was my reality.
I shut the door behind me and secured the lock. Wasting no time, I shoved my hand underneath the elastic waistband of my sweats and grasped my straining erection. My breaths were already staggered with the image of Reese swallowing my shaft whole still fresh in my mind. I braced my hand on the wall above the sink as I stroked with a tight, punishing grip, pulling roughly. I needed this to be over quickly.
In my mind, I saw her on her knees, peeking up at me through those impossibly long lashes. Her expression depicted innocence, yet her mouth indicated expertise. The way her cheeks hollowed out as she sucked me further inside. The way she flicked her tongue down to the base, swiping it over the head as her lips slid up to the tip. She was confident in the pleasure she was giving, like she knew precisely what I liked and how it should be delivered.
Jesus Christ.
I thrust my hips forward, pathetically fucking my own hand out of intense desperation for a release that I knew would never satisfy. The only way I’d truly be satisfied at this point was if Reese herself stepped through that door and fantasy became reality. This was merely a necessary exercise to relieve pressure. Because I knew if I didn’t, I would never be able to play tomorrow, let alone get through the rest of today.
I leaned forward, resting my mouth against my forearm to muffle my groans as I neared the finish line. I couldn’t do anything about my heavy breathing, though. If someone outside the door heard me panting, they’d know exactly what I was doing in here and I’d have no recourse.
What finally sent me over the edge was when Fantasy Reese stood up to whisper in my ear, “Sshh, baby. You don’t want them to hear you fucking me in here, do you?”
That sent me spurting through the air like Old Faithful.
I shouldn’t come that damn much from a freaking hand job. Imagine what actually fucking her would feel like. Yeah. Been there, done that. But I think I’d suffered enough torture for one day.
I tucked myself back into my pants and cleaned up. When I looked in the mirror, I saw a sad sight. My hair was a bedraggled mess from sleeping. My eyes were still glazed over from my arousal. And despite the release I just had, my shoulders were still tense. Probably because my hand was a poor substitute for the perfection that was Reese. Which meant I wouldn’t be fully sated until I had her.
I could practically hear the universe laughing at me.
Now even more pissed off than before, I slid open the bathroom door—
And slammed right into a soft, warm body that smelled exactly like cherry vanilla.
Reese.
Fuck. Me.
“Oh, s-sorry,” she stammered, gazing up at me with wide eyes. Those gorgeous hazel eyes that could probably hypnotize any man.
“My fault,” I said, my voice involuntarily dropping.
I tried to step back, put distance between us, but planes weren’t exactly known for their spacious accommodations. In that confined hallway, our chests touched, and I could practically feel her nipples grazing my skin, even through all of our clothing. This had been an early morning flight, so most passengers still had the blind cover pulled over their windows, shrouding the cabin in darkness.
And damn it, darkness was not what I needed. Things tended to happen in the dark. Things you wanted kept secret. Naughty things that no one else had to know about—things you could even deny to yourself. Nobody else had seen it, which meant it never happened. Right? I could use that excuse right now with Reese. Act on my desires and do something I’d been expressly forbidden from doing, and no one would ever have to know.
I could touch her.
Taste her.
I had a feeling she’d welcome all of it. There was something between us, and I knew she felt it, too. Whatever it was had yet to be defined, but it was real and it was potent.
“You mind stepping aside so I can get to the bathroom?” she asked haughtily.
I smirked, comfortably easing into our snarky banter. “Aw, sweetheart. If you wanted that whole fun at thirty thousand feet experience, all you had to do was say so.”
Her expression told me she had my number. “Mile high club jokes? Really? Those are way too easy, Donovan. I thought you were better than that.”
I have no idea what possessed me to do what I did next.
Stepping closer, I slowly ran my hand down her chestnut locks until it landed on the smooth skin of her delicate neck. She let out a small gasp of surprise, which only fueled me. I ran the tips of my fingers across her heated skin and stopped when I found her pulse. Just as I predicted, it was thumping rapidly and her breathing had shallowed.
I met her eyes. “They might be easy, but they’re effective.”
She swallowed. “What are you doing?”
“Testing out a theory,” I whispered.
“What theory?”
My gaze fell to her lips. “That the closer I get to you, the faster you breathe. And the more I say, the more your pulse quickens.”
I expected her to pull back or push my hand away. But she did neither of those things.
“That has nothing to do with you.”
The look I shot her was full of doubt. “Then why are you breathing fast?”
“I’m hot,” she answered quickly. Too quickly. “It’s hot in here.”
I gave a shake of my head. “Try again.”
“I don’t like flying.”
“Not buying it, sweetheart.” Like an idiot, I pushed the envelope and pulled her in closer by the neck, my grip gentle but insistent. I told myself to stop, but I fucking couldn’t. “I think you like being near me. I think you even like the way I speak to you.”
“Like an arrogant jackass?”
The words had a bite to them, but her voice was breathy. She couldn’t hide her reactions from me anymore than I could hide mine from her.
“You like the things I say to you. When I’m direct.” I brought my face next to hers, putting my mouth right at her ear. “You like when I talk about my cock. Don’t you, Reese?”
I sensed half of her body melting at my words and the other half remaining stiff, as if she were holding herself back. Fighting herself. I guess I wasn’t the only conflicted one. That was good.
Or was it?
“You can lie to yourself and deny it all you want,” I said. “You’ll come to terms with it and accept it sooner or later.”
I pulled back and briefly glimpsed her closed eyes before they sprang back open, widening in panic. She may have been breaking herself out of the spell, but knowing she’d been listening to my words with her eyes closed—thinking about I only wished I knew what—was enough for me. I could walk away from this encounter with a positive outlook.
Just
not a satisfied one.
“You’re out of your mind, Donovan,” she said. “You might want to do something about that ego of yours before it gets so big it forms its own satellite.”
She scooted around me, careful not to touch me, and opened the bathroom door.
I stuck my hand out right before she could shut it, pinning her with a hard expression. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
Her lips thinned. I barely had time to yank my hand back before she slammed the door shut.
I smiled all the way back to my seat.
I guess I was a little satisfied.
10
Cam
It was a damn good thing I didn’t see Reese much for the rest of the day.
When we’d landed in Miami, we were immediately shuttled to the practice gym where we stayed for the next three or so hours. Reese had been there, working with some of the players who had aches and pains, but I made it a point to avoid her. We’d made eye contact a few times, but quickly glanced away.
We both had jobs to do and mine required concentration on the game.
Not on my dick.
And even though the whole team had stayed on the same floor of the same hotel, I hadn’t seen her at all last night. Coach had kept us all sequestered in two adjoining rooms, watching game film and reviewing scouting reports, assessing the competition for today’s game. I hadn’t had so much as a glimpse of her face.
Even though I knew her room number. 218.
The one room I wouldn’t go anywhere near.
Even though I had a feeling it would be like opening the door of the wardrobe from The Chronicles of Narnia. Wonderful, fantastical things happened when you walked through it.
Today was the first day of the Miami Invitational and the team had just arrived at the stadium complex. We came early to watch the games before our early afternoon tip-off against the team we lost to in last year’s National Championship Tournament. So, yeah, we had a bone to pick with them.
But that wasn’t what had my senses on high alert. That was due to the fact that they were also here. Probably already somewhere in the building.
Belvedere. The BelV Wolverines.
Or as I preferred to call them, the BelV Bastards.
Well, one bastard in particular. Warren had just better keep his distance. That was all I had to say.
We entered the main arena through one of the team tunnels to the sounds of bouncing balls, squeaking tennis shoes, and some new hip-hop song blaring over the speakers. A new game was starting and the teams were getting warmed up.
Our team followed Coach Bradley down the sidelines in front of the crowded stands to find enough empty seats for all of us. I waved and smiled when I heard spectators shouting out my name. Fans flashing their Donovan number sixteen NCU jerseys at me. I spotted Reese toward the front of the line, walking behind her dad and the assistant coaches. It took everything I had in me not to lean around Boyd’s body in front of me just to get a better look at her ass. She was wearing some kind of pencil skirt thing that I swear to God had my mouth literally watering when I’d first laid eyes on her.
Shit. Focus, dumbass.
We reached a less packed part of the stands, and Coach turned to walk up the steps to grab us seats, everyone following dutifully. Then I saw them.
That red and black. The image of a Wolverine on their warm-ups.
BelV.
And wouldn’t you know it? The first face I spotted in that sea of dickwads was Trey Warren himself. He was a big guy, with broad shoulders, cut arms, and a thick torso. Tattoo sleeves down both arms. Jet black hair that always had some sort of design shaved into the sides.
And the asshole had the nerve to smile at me. What a prick.
I watched as he quickly took stock of me, probably sizing me up to see if I’d bulked up any since last year. There’d been an intense competition between us even when we were kids. His father had encouraged it more than anything. Always pushing Trey to be as good of a player as me, convincing him that he could never do enough, accomplish enough. Even back then, I’d sensed that Trey hadn’t cared as much about besting me as he did about making his dad happy.
I’d known all of this because we used to be best friends.
Yep. Practically brothers once upon a time. Inseparable.
But I didn’t like to think about any of that.
I saw his eyes suddenly dart away from mine and focus on something toward the front of our line, narrowing in speculation. “Reese Bradley?” I heard him ask. “Is that you?”
Every muscle in my body tensed.
What the— They knew each other?
How? When? Did they—
No. There was no fucking way. I couldn’t let my mind run wild like that.
“Hello, Trey.”
I barely heard her over all the noise. Her voice sounded weird, like she was uncomfortable. There definitely wasn’t any emotion there. In fact, it sounded like the exact opposite. Like she was making considerable effort to remain polite.
But Warren wasn’t looking so uncomfortable. In fact, he was looking pretty damn chipper all of a sudden. There was a gleam of interest—pleasure, even—in his gaze that wasn’t hard to decipher. I recognized it because it was how I usually looked at Reese. It was the type of reaction she incited in any straight man within a one hundred mile radius.
I did not like it. Not. At. All.
And how the hell did they know each other?
“You’re at NCU now?” he asked, his tone hinting at displeasure. Mixed with curiosity. “I hadn’t heard that.”
Why the fuck would he have heard it?
I watched her closely as she kept turning her head from side-to-side, looking for all the world like she wanted to be anywhere but there. She was definitely agitated, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out what had caused the sudden mood shift.
Okay, so she didn’t like being around Warren.
Now the question was, why?
What had happened between them? Shit, I hoped nothing. I prayed her reaction was simply because she didn’t appreciate him leering at her, which he was so obviously doing.
“Um, yeah,” she muttered. “Finishing up my PT degree.”
One dark eyebrow flew up his forehead. “So, you’re the team trainer?” He rubbed a tattooed hand over his jaw. “Interesting.”
“Nope. Not that interesting at all.”
She inched further up the steps to the empty seats. Hell, a blind man could have seen how desperate she was to get away from the tool.
Warren turned his gaze to her ass as she walked away, craning his neck to get a better view. This was in front of all the guys on both teams, most of whom had been watching the awkward exchange. Not that he seemed to care if anyone saw him checking her out.
Boyd let out a low whistle in front of me. “Well, that was…weird.”
That was putting it mildly.
I couldn’t wipe the glare off my face if I tried. Unfortunately, Warren turned his head right at that moment, connecting eyes with me, taking in my pissed off expression. His brow furrowed and he glanced back at Reese. Without thinking, my gaze followed his, landing right on her as she settled herself into a seat. His eyes flew back to me, but mine weren’t quite quick enough. He saw how I’d looked at her. All possessive. Like I’d called dibs on her and I’d beat the shit out of any man who touched her.
He grinned from ear to ear.
Oh yeah, he’d most definitely seen that. And now he was looking like he had a million ideas swarming around in his head. Son of a bitch. I couldn’t deal with this today. Or ever. I heard the Lancaster brothers’ grumblings behind me as we ascended the stairs, heading closer to the BelV players. They didn’t like Warren and his cronies any more than I did.
I made eye contact and attempted to be civil—I deserved a freaking medal—by nodding my head. “Warren.”
The corner of his mouth tipped up. “Hey there, Donovan.” He snapped his fingers and smacked one of his friends on the shoulder. “I m
ean, Your Highness. Bow down, boys. You’re in the presence of royalty.” They all snickered like a bunch of old women playing bridge at tea time.
I didn’t acknowledge them. “You need to come up with some new material, Warren. Your so-called quips are as weak as your scoring average.”
Boyd, Colt, and Jesse flanked me, chuckling in support. The three of them never failed to have my back.
Warren’s face showed no reaction to my barb. But I knew him too well and noticed when he started white knuckling the cell phone in his hand.
“Well, I saw your game against Penn U last week and I’d say you’re looking a little tired there, Donovan.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Maybe it’s you who should be getting some new material.”
What the fuck ever. I’d scored twenty points in that game. And sure, my rebound game had been a little off, but it wasn’t weak. Or tired.
“I’d love to stay and continue this precious bromance moment we’ve got going on here,” I said, letting the sarcasm flow freely, “but I should really get going. Let’s reschedule, though, okay?”
Warren’s eyes lit up. He twisted his upper body around, craning his neck again in Reese’s direction. He turned back to me with a knowing, devious expression. “I see you guys got some new blood this year.” He snorted. “Funny that.”
I knew I shouldn’t ask. Damn it, I knew it. But did that stop me? Nope. Not one bit.
“What’s funny?” I grated out.
He leaned back in his seat and propped his foot on the chair in front of him. “Oh, me and Reese go way back. We have a…history. I was just surprised to see her here, that’s all. It must be fate.”
Even though my temper was simmering—dangerously close to boiling over—I masked it and sighed in feigned boredom. “And I give a shit, why?”
For just one second he looked uncertain. Then, of course, my eyes unwillingly flicked back to Reese again. It was literally a microsecond, practically an involuntary spasm of my eyeballs. But it was enough for Warren to apparently determine I was bullshitting him.
King of the Court Page 8
