by Stacey Lynn
We should slow down. We still need to talk mostly about the risks I’m taking regarding my job, but then he comes back and presses his mouth to mine.
As soon as we make contact my mind goes blank.
Risks? What risks?
I forget everything about the fact that I’m with Jude, the guy I’ve measured every man against since, and he still wants me.
“I want to feel you,” he says as one of his hands is at my side, pressing to my stomach, to the waistband of my jeans. “Can I?”
My breathing is ragged and my response is breathy. “Please.” It’s all I can get out before he’s at my button, pushing it through the hole. I adjust so he can slide down the zipper and the whole time his eyes are inches from mine.
We’re not even kissing and yet I’m getting wetter with every second, every harsh breath that passes between us. And then his hand is at my stomach, moving lower and his lips are on mine, his open and I watch them dilate before I close mine because his hand is moving down, beneath the tight space of my jeans and body from my position but I’m too afraid to move any more and break whatever spell I’ve been cast under.
I want this. His thumb brushes over my sex and my hips jerk. I mewl into his mouth and beg for more. “Please.”
He groans into my mouth. “You’re soaked.”
I can’t deny it. I’ve been desperate for him since that text in the Uber on my way here. But I didn’t expect it to end with this. Jude getting me off on his couch and his tongue in my mouth.
My hips press against his thumb, searching for the friction and squirming until he’s at the perfect spot and it doesn’t take long at all until I feel it building. My body grows so warm I want to rip off my clothes and let him see all of me, but there’s no time.
It’s been so long.
And I want him so much. And what he’s doing is so incredible, my thighs are shaking, fighting against the tightness of my jeans. My fingers dig into his bicep, hard as steel and my other hand is clawing at the cushion beneath me. There’s no room to move, so I take what he gives me, pushing as close to him as I can, losing my mind in this moment.
“Close. Harder.” I’m pleading. Begging. I feel no shame over it either.
He’s so damn good at this. I’ve forgotten. The beauty of everything Jude and his skills with my body have diminished over the years.
I’m whimpers and noises, those sounds ripping from my throat into his and when I come, losing myself in the throes of a climax that has stars shining behind my closed eyelids, I dig my teeth into his bottom lip fighting against the scream that wants to tear free.
“Shit,” I pant. I lick his lip as I realize what I’ve done. “I’m so sorry.”
He laughs against my mouth and it’s husky and deep and so beautiful. I shiver as he brings me down until my hips pull back from his touch, my body so overly sensitive.
“Love watching you lose control. And don’t apologize for that. You’ve just reminded me why I’ve always jerked off to the memory of you.”
“Gross,” I say, but I’m laughing, and honestly… it’s a boost to my ego. I’ve seen women he’s been paired with over the years. No one serious. Usually at team events and sometimes I know they’re friends of hockey wives. But they’re all beautiful and elegant and tall and trim, the opposite of my curves.
It’s a thrill to know he’s thought of me, even if it’s only when his dick is in his hand.
He kisses me softly, licking my lips and slowly drags his hand out of my jeans, re-zipping and buttoning my jeans as he does. The move is tender and I smile, watching him put me back together in such a caring way.
His own desire is blatantly obvious in his gray sweats. The sight alone makes my mouth water and I lean forward, pushing him to the couch. He must know what I’m going for because he curses and then moans, covering my hand with his.
“Don’t. Not tonight.”
“But—” He’s so hard. And big. That memory has definitely not diminished. Everything about Jude’s body shows his size and strength. Every part.
“First time you get my dick in your hand I want to be able to see all of you, and I don’t want to do it while I can barely move. Just give me a few minutes to calm down.”
He takes his own hand and presses it against his erection and takes a few deep breaths.
And wow. I’m getting turned on all over again watching him touch himself.
He glares at me and groans. “You like this?”
“Yeah. Watching you jerk yourself off would be better.”
“Then I’ll add it to the things I want to do with you. You can watch me, if you let me watch you.”
My cheeks burn and the heat slides down to my fingertips. My arousal grows at the thought of that. Both of us, together, taking care of ourselves.
I clear my throat. “Want some water? I think I need another drink.”
I need to do something before I jump him, injured knee be damned.
“Sure. And some ibuprofen. Can you grab me some? It’s on the counter by the coffeepot.”
“You got it.” I lean in and give him a quick kiss before climbing off the couch. My legs are shaky and loose, along with the rest of me.
Who knew an orgasm from Jude could evaporate all my stress and worries.
I still have to figure out what to do with him and work, but now it doesn’t seem so scary.
“That’s it, Josiah. How’s the knee feel?”
My twelve-year-old patient shrugs. “It’s all right. Still hurts when I land on it.”
Josiah went up for a layup three weeks ago during a basketball practice, was fouled by a teammate, and came down hard on the outside of his knee. He’s lucky he didn’t end up tearing his ACL, but his bone bruise still has weeks left to heal. Doesn’t help he’s a typical pre-teen who isn’t that thrilled with doing his exercises. Patients who think we can’t tell whether they’re doing their homework or not usually frustrate the daylights out of me.
Good thing for Josiah, he’s one of the nicest kids I’ve seen.
I type some notes into my computer as anxiousness settles. Jude should be here soon and it’s been three days since I saw him Saturday night. We talked last night, but I’d had such a long day of work that I was exhausted. But I did finally gather the courage before I left Saturday night to let him know that when I’m at work and he’s a patient, he can’t let on there’s anything besides friendship and history between us.
He’d scowled at me. “I’m not going to ruin your job for you.”
“If anyone finds out, my career is in jeopardy. I’m not saying you’d do it intentionally…”
“And what about you?” He’d asked, still irritated with me, but now teasing. “Think you’ll be able to hide your attraction to me?”
My blush had almost given me away and he’d laughed.
Now that he’ll be arriving any moment, I realize how screwed I might just be. There’s no way I’ll be able to see him again without remembering what we did, or rather, what he did to me on his couch.
Behind me, Josiah is working on our set of three steps of stairs, bending his knee to reach down and grab a plastic cup. I scan the room, don’t see Jude, but I do see Avery at the reception desk. It might be my imagination but I think she’s actually wearing more makeup on the days when Jude comes in. And it’s possible she’s shrunk her shirt. Either that or she’s the only forty-three-year-old woman I know who stuffs her bra.
She’s crazy and I shake my head, going back to Josiah. “Your knee is still bending in when you do this exercise. Have you been working with the sheets I gave you at home?”
“Yes, Miss Carter.” He mumbles his response and doesn’t meet my eye.
I bump his shoulder. “Liar.”
He laughs and exposes his full smile with teeth still too big for his mouth. He’s at that awkward pre-teen stage where some parts of his body don’t seem to quite fit on his size or frame, but there’s no doubt he’ll end up being a handsome looking guy when he gets olde
r, and tall too, considering at twelve he’s already taller than me at five-four.
“I bet LeBron James does his exercises when he gets injured. Or Anthony Davis.”
He frowns at me. “You know basketball players?”
“Some.” I’m no huge fan but I hear enough talk to know who the best are. “Lakers are fun to watch, though. But what I know most of all is that since they want to be the best and stay the best, they’d do their exercises if they were hurt.”
His full tan lips push out into a pout. “I hear ya, Miss Carter.”
The first time he came in for his appointment, I told him he could call me Kate. Miss Kate if he preferred. He’d slid a nervous look at his mom who kindly shook her head. When he looked back at me, he’d said, “Thank you, Miss Carter.”
I got the hint. His mom was raising a boy who she wanted to have good manners and become a gentleman and I respect the heck out of her for it. She’s a single mom, dad not around as far as I know, and she’s working hard to ensure Josiah becomes a different guy. It’s hard not to like the kid so much when he’s so polite and kind.
“Good. Get the bands and I’ll grab a mat for you.”
He does what he’s told and once I have set him on a yoga type mat on the floor, on his stomach, pulling his foot up behind him with the exercise bands, a shadow falls close to me.
I glance up to find Logan and Jude heading past me. He’s swinging on his crutches, talking with Logan about his pain, how he’s been doing, and as they pass me, he flashes me a quick wink before ignoring me.
It’s exactly what needs to happen, but outside that wink, I don’t like the way he barely pays me any attention.
Yeah… remaining completely professional around him is going to be tough.
While Josiah is working on the last of his stretches, I print out a new set of home exercises for him in case he’s lost the ones he already has and then I print out his checkout form.
“Okay, we can stop for the day,” I tell him and shake the few papers in my hand. Josiah jumps to his feet and trades me the exercise band for them and I guide him back to his mom.
“He’s doing really well,” I say to her as she stands, smiling down at her son. “He should be good to go in a few weeks but I’d still like to keep seeing him twice a week until he gets clearance from the doctor.”
“Sounds good. He’s healing well then?”
I wink at Josiah before saying, “Great. It’ll go faster if he can remember to do the exercises at home as well.”
She frowns at him in that loving way she has with her son. “You said you were doing them before bed.”
“I am.” He shuffles on his feet. “Most, well, some nights.”
His mom ruffles his twisted, black hair and she gives him a gentle shove. “Every night, right? You’re killing me with these fees and missin’ on all this school.”
“Yes, ma’am. Thanks, Miss Carter.”
“No problem. You can check out with Natasha and get those appointments scheduled, go for three weeks but we might not need them all. Better to have to cancel than fit you in later.”
We say our goodbyes and I turn, intent on heading to the break room before my next patient shows. But when I do, I almost bump directly into Avery’s back, who, like the rest of the women in the office, are zoned in on one, beautiful, picture-perfect, sex-tingling image.
Jude.
His back is to us. His brace is removed. Logan has him holding on to the end of the medical bed at his front and he’s squatting.
In black athletic pants that tighten over his gorgeous and plump ass with every small dip he makes, grunting through the pain.
Oh holy Lord. “Oh my.” It escapes me before I can bite it back and Avery turns and laughs at me.
“I know, right? I have a feeling we’re going to see an increase in random female injuries if these ladies go tell their friends what they’re missing.”
She’s not wrong. Eloise, at sixty-three, and is seeing a different therapist today has her eyes trained on his butt. But Angela, her therapist is gaping at the sight as well.
Can he feel the attention he’s getting? I don’t know how he can’t except he has to be used to be stared at. Gawked at is a completely different story.
“Don’t you have a patient?” I ask Avery.
“Uh-huh.”
“Where is he?”
“No idea,” she mumbles and licks her lips.
She’s so nutty. And she’s still not the only one.
It takes Logan noticing, lifting his head and scanning the room. His jaw tightens and uncharacteristically of him and any professional practice, not that the rest of us are being professional at all, he barks out, “Ladies! Focus.”
Jude’s head jerks up and swivels. He sees what’s happening, winks at Eloise like he did to me earlier and when our eyes meet, his gaze turns searing bright hot.
He smirks, drops into another squat and I swear it’s slower than last time, lingering down as low as he can get—which isn’t very far—before he raises, and I swear that look is just for me, so intense and hot, that my body ignites with desire.
Yeah. This is going to go bad.
Fast.
11
Jude
Katie doesn’t know I’ve rescheduled all of my appointments around her breaks and lunch periods and I haven’t bothered telling her. It’s Thursday, and I’m so damn thankful Logan said on Tuesday I could finally remove the brace from my knee unless I really need it after a hard day. He also said I could probably drop down to one crutch which almost feels like I’m normal again.
Two days with the freedom clear of the brace that makes my leg sweaty and another grueling and psychotic PT session behind me, and I’m outside, phone in hand, texting Katie.
I heard her tell the redhead, Avery, she was planning on having UberEats deliver her some food which means she doesn’t have plans.
I’m out front. My ride is here. Come have lunch with me?
I hope she’s on her phone and has some privacy. After two days of being around her and not being able to say much more than hello and see you later when all I want to do is slam my mouth to hers, rub my fingers and other things against her clit to get her off again, and I know exactly why she warned me about being careful at her office.
It’s almost physically impossible, more painful than the pain in my knee, to pretend I don’t know her, know how slick she gets from me, or how much I freaking love kissing her.
And I haven’t seen her in person since Saturday, which is making all this pretending even worse.
Now that my brace is gone, I’m not nearly as gimpy as I used to be which means the next time I get her alone, we’re definitely doing more than stopping at third base.
I need a homerun before my balls explode from built-up overflow.
Can you bring the car around back of the building?
Right. Because she can’t be seen leaving work with me. I should have thought of that, but as much as I understand where she’s coming from and what she’s risking, it still frustrates me. I want to be able to kiss Katie whenever I want, which is pretty much every single time I’m around her. Forced to keep our interactions distant pisses me off.
I type out “done” and maneuver my way into the SUV.
“Change of plans, Paulie, I’m not headed home. Mind hanging while a friend and I get some food?”
“No problems, sir. Where to?”
“Back of the building for now. We’ll figure it out then.”
I get two arched brows in the rearview mirror in response to my strange request but he does what he’s told without further question. As soon as we pull up, Katie hurries out and jumps into the SUV like the frozen cement is melting at her feet.
She’s breathless, her hair flies into her face when she slams the door closed and then she turns to me and breathes. “Hey there.”
My hands, balled into fists relax, but seriously? She’s behaving like she’s sneaking out of her parents’ house before
she’s allowed to date or something. I’m not sure the 007 frantic tactics are the best way to go.
“Ready?” I grit out. It won’t do well for lunch to be fighting and besides, I don’t know when I’ll be able to see her again. She works long hours and is exhausted after work. At her nod, I ask, “Where would you like to go? Somewhere close?”
She chews on her bottom lip and gives out a few places within a ten minute drive, so no… not close.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers.
It’s not her fault. It’s the situation. I reach across the bench and take her hand. “Paulie, can you take us to a pizza place? Not somewhere touristy.” Places like Gino’s or the original Giordano’s and a few others are always filled with Chicago’s visitors. That ups the stakes I can be recognized.
“You got it, sir.” He pulls the SUV out of the parking lot and once we’re finally on the road without Katie’s boss or co-workers chasing her down with pitchforks and termination pink slips, she finally relaxes.
“How’s your knee?” she asks and I don’t realize why she’s asking until she sees me rubbing my other hand down my thigh and over my knee.
“It’s fine. Logan’s a dick.” Really, I’m rubbing my leg to keep from pulling her into my lap.
She laughs and shakes her head. “He’s the best. Trust him.”
“I do, and can see improvement, but I really don’t want to talk about your work right now.” This is our time, and we get so little of it to enjoy and we only have so much time right now.
“Okay,” she drawls. A small smile tips up her lips. With one hand, she adjusts her long, curled hair over the collar of her coat. “Tell me something then?”
“Anything.” When it comes to Katie, I’m an open book.
“What was it like? That first game when you were called up, I mean.”
Wow. This is unexpected and it takes me a minute to remember that feeling I had. The nerves. I almost puked. I’m lucky I had Jason in the locker room. He was still injured, but it wasn’t too bad and by the time I got to Charlotte, he was out of the hospital, recuperating, and limping on a serious sprained ankle. He also had a broken wrist and that was the larger concern.
