Finish Line: A Playing Hard Novella

by Johnston, Marie

  After a solid night of sleep, we were back. Another day of rides and souvenir shops. I bought him another snow globe, one with the castle, and he’d had the same awed expression as when I gave him the one of Pike’s Peak.

  I stared at the night sky, waiting for the fireworks to start. Yesterday, we’d cruised all over the park, going on rides, touring the castle, eating food that hit my gut like a mason stone. But I couldn’t remember the last time I had cotton candy, so it was worth it. We’d done the same today.

  I couldn’t believe I was flying out in the morning. My dad took a few personal days and used the money they’d saved for going to worlds to get a last-minute flight to Oregon to meet the movers and wrap up my place. After this weekend, it’d no longer be my place.

  Lincoln’s arms were around my shoulders, and I was leaning back into him when the first bloom went off.

  “Wow. They’re brilliant.” I hooked my hands on his and watched the show. We were surrounded by people, but it was an intimate moment.

  I don’t think I blinked the whole time magnificent cascades of sparks showered in front of us. He held me the entire time. When it was done, we drifted out with the rest of the crowd, still holding onto each other.

  It was the climax of the week I needed. A clear signal that it was done and it was time to go. One more night with Lincoln and then…

  A lump rammed into my throat. He’d been extra attentive since my comment yesterday. Neither one of us had brought up the race again.

  The drive back to the hotel was quiet. I was tired, my feet ached, and I’d eaten too much junk food, but a nervous energy coursed through me.

  In our room, I slipped off my shoes. Lincoln did the same.

  “Sit down,” he said.

  He didn’t need to tell me twice. I dropped onto the bed. Kneeling at my feet, he picked up my right foot. I groaned and laid back, my feet at the mercy of his strong, capable hands. He kneaded the balls of each foot.

  Once he was done, he moved higher, working his fingers around my ankles, then stroking around to my calves. If he kept that up, I knew where we’d be going—and I wanted it. But I also wanted to wash the grit of the day off me.

  I rolled up, my heart stammering at the desire blazing in his eyes. “I need a shower before bed.”

  “Can I join you?”

  As if he’d have to ask. It was our last night together. There was that lump again.

  I turned toward the bathroom and beckoned him to follow me. Inside, I flipped the water onto warm. Lifting my shirt, I swept it over my head and found him watching me. I was emboldened by the fire burning in his gaze and dropped my pants.

  He was fully dressed, leaning against the sink. There was no other sound in the bathroom other than water. This trip was our vacation, but it was about me. So, I’d make tonight mine.

  I closed the distance between us and gripped his shirt. His chest rose, and he stilled as I tugged it up and off. To get to his shorts, I ran my fingers down the hard planes of his chest, over the ripples of his abs, then dropped to my knees and rolled his waistband down.

  His cock sprang free, and I waited until he stepped out of his shorts. I gripped the base, but he closed his hand around mine. “Let’s get under the water first. I don’t want your knees on this hard floor.”

  So considerate, but poor timing. Regardless, I accepted his help up and let him usher me into the shower. The water was beyond warm. Heat wicked down my body with the spray. Lincoln adjusted the temperature and backed me against the shower wall.

  I smiled at him, water running down my face. “I was supposed to be taking care of you.”

  “Then, I have to confess that I wouldn’t have lasted long staring down at you.”

  “I’ll let it go. This time.” I twined my arms around his wide shoulders, and he pressed me against the wall.

  He snagged my body wash and emptied a dollop into his hand. Drawing me back under the cascade of water, he scrubbed me down. Soft suds drifted down my shoulders and over my belly. I did the same with the body wash. Our hands went everywhere. Over and under arms, between legs, stroking around backs and stomachs. When we were full of suds, we took turns rinsing each other off.

  I was clean, but I was achy and needy. My body was soft and relaxed under the warm water, but coiled tight and ready for him. Before the last of the suds washed down the drain, he took my mouth with his and went straight for my core.

  I rolled my hips against his hand.

  “You’re wet, Nellie,” he murmured and circled my clit.

  My reply was to grip his head and plunder his mouth while I rode his hand.

  His other arm was wrapped around me, my only support in this slippery environment. When I exploded, a cascade of pleasure rippling through me, it was in his embrace.

  I slowed my kiss down until it was only our lips touching, water dripping down our faces. Pulling away, I gazed at him and said, “Now, it’s my turn.”

  “Nellie, I want—”

  But I had already slid down his body and taken his stiff erection in my hand. It was hot and smelled like gardenia. Cupping his balls, I took him into my mouth. He arched back, one hand landing on the wall and the other fisting into my wet hair.

  I wanted him to lose control in my mouth like I had in his arms, but once I got my rhythm going, he pulled away and helped me up.

  “I need to be in you.” He flicked the water off.

  “You were.”

  Palming my ass cheek, he reached out of the curtain for a towel. “I need you screaming around me when I make you come again.”

  I shivered, and it had nothing to do with the shower curtain getting flung back and air wafting over my slick body.

  He wrapped me in a towel and grabbed one for himself. But he only hooked it around his waist and his straining cock and used my towel to dry me off. Slowly, and with purpose. Plush fabric brushed over my breasts, down my torso, paying extra attention to the sensitive flesh between my thighs.

  By the time he was done, I was squirming again. I couldn’t return the favor. He wiped himself off and tossed the towels on the counter. Then he lifted me against him and brought us to the bed.

  My legs were wrapped around him, but we didn’t rush it. His shaft was pressed between us, a hard length of velvet-covered steel.

  He played with my mouth. Licking in, sweeping out, nibbling on my lips. This wasn’t going to be a quick fuck, or even a fun time between the sheets. Lincoln was deliberate, taking his time, stretching this out. If we’d been together for a while, more serious than a week of let’s get away, I’d call this making love.

  But it couldn’t be. Lincoln spent a week with me, half out of guilt and the other half out of a healthy dose of lust—and respect. It was the same for me, minus the guilt. Yet, the way he was making me feel was anything but temporary. This was an experience that I’d take with me forever.

  He kissed his way down my neck and lingered over my breasts, massaging and flicking his tongue over my nipple. Then he’d suck it into his mouth and release it only to softly blow across my fevered skin.

  “Lincoln,” I moaned.

  He only gave me a mild chuckle and worked his way down farther.

  “I don’t think I can—” He’d made me come more than once before, but the first time was so strong.

  “I just want a taste.”

  And he did. His tongue hit my overly sensitive clit, and I bucked my hips off the bed. He wedged my knees apart and anchored me down with a hand splayed across my stomach. But he didn’t hit my bundle of nerves again. Kissing my thighs, he used his fingers to take the focus off my clit. He slid one inside and back out, setting a pace that my hips easily matched.

  When I relaxed and got in the groove, then he was back, licking and teasing until I was drawing my knees up myself and undulating against his face.

  But before I came again, he was surging up and reaching for the condoms on the nightstand. He rolled one on, keeping his body between my legs the entire time. And I di
dn’t mind watching. Seeing Lincoln naked and hard was a treat I didn’t think I’d ever tire of.

  The condom was on, and he was over me. He placed himself at my entrance but didn’t push in. Like everything else, it was slow and deliberate. We were face to face. I saw every play of emotion go through his features, like he was trying to tell me something without using words.

  Then he was seated fully inside me, and he stayed that way for a few moments. I wrapped my legs around him and hugged his shoulders. His brows were drawn down, and his gaze landed on my eyes, my lips, caressed over my face. But he didn’t move.

  “Lincoln. Are you okay?” I could stay like this forever, locked as one.

  “I… Nellie, I don’t want to let you go.”

  “You don’t have to. Yet.” My flight was in ten hours. We’d finish here only because we had to, maybe we’d get some sleep, maybe not, then he’d take me to the airport. “We’re still together.” For now.

  He seemed to hear those words I didn’t say and pulled out, ramming back in, making us groan against each other.

  “More.” My nails curled into his back, and he thrust. There was no slow and deliberate; this was desperate. Frantic. But it was what we both needed.

  My release careened out of me, and I stiffened around him. He jerked and shuddered, curling into me for his climax. I hugged him so hard I could barely breathe.

  I didn’t want to let him go either.

  Chapter 12

  My first thought was that I didn’t hurt as much as I should, but I knew that was coming. I was at the point in my procedure where I was still loaded down with pain meds, and I was okay to stay here for a while.

  Opening my eyes, I looked at Dad sitting across from me. I wanted to ask him something, like where Mom went. How had surgery went? Was there any bad news? But my mind was still groggy.

  I drifted back off to sleep.

  It was hard to say how much time had passed the next time I opened my eyes, but instead of Dad sitting to my right next to the blood pressure machine, it was Mom. I opened my mouth to try to say something, but nothing came out. I cleared my throat and smacked my lips together. My mouth was dry. There was a saline drip in my left arm, so I wasn’t worried about dehydration. But I certainly didn’t regret eating all the good food last week.

  “Hi,” was what I could get out.

  Her pinched expression eased, and she smiled. I wasn’t under the influence of my pain meds too much to not know that it was purely for my benefit. “Hey, honey. How are you feeling?”

  “Oh, you know.” I had to stop and swallow with the little spittle I could summon. “I’m sure it hasn’t changed much since your day.”

  “Well, I can tell you that it sucks on either side of the bed.” Her gaze darted toward the door.

  I blinked so long that I thought I’d fallen asleep again. But I urged my eyelids open and asked, “Where’s Dad?”

  “He is…” The pinched expression came back, a line forming between her brows, her lips pressed together.

  “What?” Were there complications? Was Dad talking to the doctor? I felt as good as I could feel after surgery like this—dog tired and anticipating some hard weeks of rehabilitation—but my gut wasn’t telling me something was wrong.

  Mom huffed out of breath and met my questioning gaze. “You have a visitor.” She didn’t sound happy.

  “Who?” I was about to say no one knew about this, but then I remembered Sean in the TV segments. But that was about me being sick. No one knew I’d been scheduled for surgery other than my parents, Coach Simmons, and—

  No. It couldn’t be. This was just cruel. I didn’t want to wake up from surgery with Lincoln being one of the first things on my mind. The long days between flying out from San Diego and arranging my old bedroom should’ve been enough. I should have earned a reprieve from missing him.

  “I told him you’re not up for visitors.” Her gaze shot back to the door, hard enough to put a dent in the wood. “But he won’t leave.”

  “Who?” I asked again. My adrenaline was pumping to the point where I pondered raising the head of my bed even more, but it was too much effort to find the button. I was going to stay right where I was until a nurse told me the parameters of what I could and couldn’t do.

  “It’s that coach.” Mom’s voice was as hard as the look on her face. “Lincoln Keating.”

  I’d heard her wrong. It was the lingering anesthetics. Lincoln was not here. He was not in this hospital. He wasn’t in Indiana. Lincoln was back in Denver, training his elite athletes, juggling Victa, and forgetting about me.

  Besides, he wouldn’t know how to find me.

  The conversation where I told Mom and Dad everything ran through my fogged mind. Lincoln had heard everything, including where I had planned to have my surgery.

  “I told him he shouldn’t have come here.” The fine lines on Mom’s face collected at her eyes. Her gray-streaked brown hair was bundled off her face into a clip. “But he was already in Indianapolis. Apparently, Coach Simmons gave him my number. Good thing he led with that, or I would’ve hung right up. Now he’s here.”

  I’d play along like this was real. “Why?”

  Another breath eked out of her. “He wants to be with you and doesn’t want to wait five years.” She glanced at me, a brow quirked. “Did you tell him to wait on you for five years?”

  I coughed out a chuckle and stopped, the humor crushed under the bands around my chest. “Five years of cancer-free screenings.”

  “Why such a specific date?”

  I tried to lick my lips but gave up. “You were so excited—”

  “Nellie, that was almost twenty years ago. They’ve made so many advances since then.” She settled her troubled stare on me. “Do you want him around?”

  So much. But this would be my worst, and it wasn’t fair to either of us to start a relationship now. “I can’t have him around.”

  “You didn’t answer my question, Nellie.”

  “Mom…” I was getting so tired. My eyelids were drooping, and I thought that the longer I slept, the sooner I’d be able to drink water. It’d feel faster anyway. “If things were different, I’d want him around.”

  “Things aren’t different. Do you want to be with him?” She folded her arms and crossed one leg over the other. It was her “you’d better be listening” pose. “Because… You haven’t seen what’s on TV, but he’s serious.”

  I lost the battle to keep my eyes open. What did TV have to do with anything?

  * * *

  The next time I woke up, I wasn’t as groggy. But when I opened my eyes, it wasn’t my mom or dad sitting across from me.

  It took two attempts to get my dry tongue to say his name. “Lincoln?”

  Those meds must really be powerful. I was hallucinating. I closed my eyes to give the image time to evaporate. Had I known I’d be taunted with fantasies of Lincoln, I might’ve skipped the week with him.

  No, I wouldn’t have.

  The fresh linen smell of his laundry cut through the sterileness of the room. Could my mind create fake smells?

  I opened my eyes, my gaze landing on him. He hadn’t moved. Perched on the end of the chair, his elbows on his knees, he was staring at me.

  “Hey,” he said.

  I stretched my legs but was hesitant to move any other part of my body. The blood pressure cuff crinkled on my arm. This was real. He was here.

  I’d washed my hair last night, but it was probably lanky and greasy. I didn’t want to smell any part of myself, and my chest had been radically altered from how both he and I had seen it last.

  “I, um… I wasn’t sure your parents would allow me in.” He scooted the chair closer, apparently bolstered by my seemingly mellow response. Was I glad he was here? Upset? Dazed? Too tired to decide? “I waited outside of the recovery waiting room, and they relented to allowing me to tagalong to this floor. Then your dad waited with me while your mom hung out in here. When she came out last, she said I could co
me in.”

  “Where are they?”

  “Getting a coffee.”

  My parents didn’t drink coffee. I dimly recalled Mom’s questions about Lincoln and whether I wanted him around. “Why are you here?” I couldn’t summon the strength to put any inflection on the words. Why are you here? Why are you here? Why are you here? Why are you here? Any way would’ve been accurate.

  “I want to be with you, Nellie.”

  “We were together for a week.”

  “It wasn’t enough. A week would never be enough with you.” He cleared his throat, his gaze flickering to the TV mounted on the wall. “I knew when I went home that I was coming straight here, but I had some things to clear up.”

  He was still staring at the TV, and it reminded me of Mom’s cryptic comment. I hope my story hadn’t gone farther than getting screwed out of a title. I didn’t want to leave the hospital only to get a camera shoved in my face.

  “But I’m going to go through a lot.” I was currently going through a lot, and my raspy voice was the subtlest sign. “You don’t want to be around for that.”

  There was a swab next to a glass of water. I gingerly lifted my arm. Skin tugged and pulled against the wrap, and there was a drainage tube under my armpit. The upcoming days would be filled with education on how to care for those tubes and learning arm exercises. For now, I was thirstier than I was afraid of pain. I swirled the tip to get it wet and wicked it around my mouth. A hint of mint hit my tongue. Heaven.

  “I want to be around for you.” He sat forward until his knees hit the side of the bed and gripped my hand.

  “I’m living with my parents.”

  He lifted a shoulder but didn’t release me. “I got a hotel, but I can find an apartment.”

  “Don’t you have a house or something in Denver?”

  “Condo. It’s up for sale.”

  “Your job?” His job was the ultimate dream for people like us. To go from being an athlete to a respected, in-demand coach that could command top dollar and nail the largest sponsor? He wouldn’t give that up. Even a sabbatical would be hard to negotiate.