“Why apologize?” I say with another wink. “It’s hot.” And as I turn away from him with sweats in hand, my legs quiver with yearning. I toss the sweats in the closet where the washer and dryer are and then open his bag to pull out his dirty laundry. “Did you happen to use any of the condoms I packed you?” I ask as he stands next to me. From the corner of my eye, I catch just how muscular his thighs are, and for some reason, it’s a huge turn-on for me. Like stick a watermelon between those thighs, and he’s cracking it open on one pulse.
“Uh, no,” he says.
“Oh, that’s sad. Couldn’t find a willing participant?” I ask.
“Didn’t look for one.”
“No?” I reply as I gather his dirty laundry and take it to the closet. “Why not?”
“Distracted,” he says from his bedroom, still just standing there. “Uh, you know, I think I might take a shower.”
“Good idea, get that plane off you.”
“Yeah, sure.”
I hear him move into the bathroom and click the door shut. I shove the laundry in the washer and then grab my phone.
Wylie:He’s frazzled, Sandie. He has stared at my breasts at least a half dozen times since he’s come home.
Luckily, Sandie is quick to text me back.
Sandie:Excellent. *Insert evil laugh* What’s he doing now?
Wylie:Taking a shower.
Sandie:Seems to me like you need to walk in there and ask him a question.
Wylie:OMG, should I?
Sandie:If we’re conducting erotic torture, then yes, you need to walk in there while he’s soaping up.
Wylie:And this is why we’re friends. I’ll report back.
I pocket my phone, and with some mustered-up courage, I open the bathroom door.
“Uh, hello?” he asks.
“Hey, just me,” I say casually, helping myself in.
“Can I help you?” he asks, his back toward me. The shower is foggy so I can’t see anything other than his silhouette. Shame. I was hoping to see a little ass at least.
“Just came in to grab your underwear. I assume you want this washed as well.”
“Sure,” he says in a tense voice.
“Oh, and I checked on the food. Should be here in the next twenty minutes.”
“Yup, that’s great.”
“I can set it up on your favored placemat if you want. Dining room or kitchen island?”
“Kitchen island is fine,” he answers, not moving.
“Sounds good. Can I get you anything else?”
“Just some privacy,” he says through clenched teeth.
“Oh.” I laugh. “Sorry about that.” I grab his underwear and head toward the door. “Enjoy your shower.”
And then I leave, smiling brightly to myself. Yup, this is going to be a lot of fun.
“Ooo, you smell amazing,”I say as I walk by a freshly showered Levi, who is now wearing a pair of shorts and a simple heather gray T-shirt with an Agitators logo on the front. The sleeves strain around his biceps and chest while the torso clings to his muscled body. I lean into him. “Is that your soap or cologne?”
He clears his throat as he takes a seat at the island. “Soap.”
“Wow. It’s amazing,” I say as I let my hand drag over the contours of his back before I move to the fridge to grab him a drink. “Would you like a soda?”
He’s silent for a second, and when I look over my shoulder, his eyes revert from my ass to me. “You, uh, you don’t have to serve me, Wylie.”
“Oh, I don’t mind. I’ll grab you a Diet Coke.” I grab one for myself as well and take a seat next to him at the island, but I angle my body to face him and rest my feet on the rung of his chair. “Here you go.” I slide the soda over to him, not really giving him any space from me. “Hope you don’t mind if I eat here with you. I hate when my little bedroom smells like food. Stinks up my clothes. Also, we can catch up.”
“Sure, yeah, you can eat here.”
“Great.” I pull the food out of the paper bag and say, “Hope you don’t mind that I got myself a salad. I can pay you back later. Just thought it would be easier.”
“You don’t have to pay me back, Wylie.”
“Oh, I’m not going to be a freeloader. I’ll pay you back . . . somehow.” I wink, and he quickly looks away as he picks up his fork and knife, ready to eat. “How was the trip? Do anything fun? We already know that you didn’t do anybody fun, but perhaps you did something else while you were away?”
He shakes his head. “Just hockey.”
“Not even a fun meal with the guys?”
He shakes his head again as he opens his container and stabs one of his potatoes with a fork rather aggressively. “All the guys went straight to their rooms. OC met up with a friend, so I was kind of on my own.”
“What were the guys doing in their rooms?”
“Calling their girls.”
“Oh,” I say as I pop open my steak salad. “Like frisky FaceTimes?”
“Pretty much,” he says on a sigh, then cuts into his steak, which cuts like butter.
“You say that as if it makes you sad. Do you wish you were FaceTiming someone?”
He looks over at me and says, “Sometimes, yeah.”
“Well, you can always FaceTime me,” I say. And then for the hell of it, I shimmy at him and say, “I could make it fun for you.”
He glances down at my bouncing breasts and then back at his steak. “You sure as hell could.”
“Ooo, I take that as you’re interested. You know, topless FaceTimes will come at a surcharge, but I’ll make it worth it.” I joke around, but from the tension in his shoulders, he’s anything but in a joking mood, which means I’m doing my job.
Not so fun being played around with, is it, Levi?
When he makes no attempt at a comment, I say, “Well, if interested, we can add it to my duties. Shimmy for boss. I actually have some pretty great lingerie. I have this one set that ties together like a bow in the front. With one tug, it’s hello breasts.”
The grip on his fork tightens as he says, “Yeah, we’re not crossing that line, remember?”
“I know, but just putting it out there, though.” I run my hand over his back. “You seem so tense, like you need someone to loosen you up. I can’t have my boss unhappy.” I run my hands over his shoulders. “Ooo, you’re really tense. Everything is all bunched up here. Do you need me to massage you? Because I can. I used to give out massages all the time in college.”
“What kind of massages?” he asks when he glances my way.
“All kinds . . .” I wiggle my brows. “Obviously not for money, but the few guys I dated loved my hand—”
He bounds out of his chair, startling me back as he grips his forehead in distress. He turns in a few circles, almost confused as to what he should do next. After a few seconds, he says, “You know, maybe we should change the subject.”
“Oh, why? Did I say something bad?” I act innocent even though I’m the furthest thing from it.
“No . . . I mean, yes . . . ugh, not really.” He pinches his brow. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m just distracted.”
“Anything I can help you get off your mind?” I say as I puff my chest out just a touch more.
His eyes take the bait, and I catch him wet his lips right before he starts shaking his head, almost as if he needs to convince himself. “No. Nope. Nothing you can do. I can, uh, I can handle it myself.”
“Why are you so jittery?” I ask.
“Because.” He pushes his hand through his hair. “Just . . . fuck, I wasn’t expecting you to be here when I got home, so I’m a little jumpy is all.”
“Oh, okay. Well, I can leave.” I stand from my chair. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“You’re not. You’re fine.” He mumbles. “Fuck, you’re so fine.” He drags both hands over his face, and I can see the strain in his body. I can see his will coming close to snapping. When his eyes open again, they land on my breasts, and I know my nipples are hard because I’m turned on. Turned on from having this much control over a man. I’ve barely done anything, and he’s squirming. There’s something so empowering about that.
“Well, how about I just take my salad and give you some space. I’ll be back in an hour to change the laundry.”
“I can do that,” he says quickly. “I can change it out.”
“Are you sure? I don’t mind coming back.”
He shakes his head. “Just take the night off. You’ve done a lot.”
“Okay, if you insist.” I start to gather my dinner when I remember the book. “Oh, almost forgot.” I walk over to his living room and pull the bound book I made of Vermont for him. “Here’s everything typed up and put in Arial font. I added some pictures just to make it interesting for you. I hope you enjoy it.”
He stares down at the book, dumbfounded, then back at me. “You put it in binding?”
“I’m efficient, Levi,” I say as I poke his chest. “Ooo, that’s strong. I probably shouldn’t say this, but you have an amazing body. I noticed when I took your sweatshirt off. Too bad for the girls who missed out the other night, right? Oh, by the way, if you want, I can handle any type of dating profile you want to put together. I can swipe left or right for you, choose girls I think you might like.”
“Yeah, not interested in dating at the moment.”
“Right,” I say, booping him on the nose. “Only fucking. Well, I can put that in the profile. Looking for one-night stands.”
Once again, he shakes his head. “Not necessary.”
“Okay, well, the option is there. Now I’m going to take my salad back to my room, despite not liking eating in there. I’ve been working on a design for a contest. Have you ever heard of Patty Ford?”
His eyes widen a little as his cheeks flush.
Oh, he so looked her up. I like that he did.
My only question is, did he get off to her?
I hope so . . . because I know I did.
“Uh, no, who is she?”
Such a liar. Adorable.
“An erotic entertainer. And I know what you’re thinking, that’s a fancy way to say porn star, but she doesn’t do it with other people. She is more about trying to have a one-on-one experience with the fans. Sort of like an OnlyFans account, but she’s designed her own website so she takes all the money. Brilliant if you ask me. Well, she’s looking for a new logo, and I decided to enter the contest. I’ve been working on some designs and want to finalize them tonight. Studying her has been fun. There’s something about her that just gets me so hot.”
His cheeks redden even more. “Uh, really?” he asks.
“Oh, yeah. I must have gotten off three times already just working on this logo.”
He pulls on his neck, the strain in his chest and forearms evident. “Cool, yeah, I’ll, uh, I’ll check her out.”
“You should. There’s this one video where she tells you what to do, could be for a man or woman. And as she talks to you, she starts stripping. Oh my God, it’s so hot. A must watch. I was throbbing by the time I allowed my fingers to finish myself off.” I smile brightly at his tortured expression. “All right, I’ll leave you to it. Let me know if you need anything, oh . . . before I leave, are you going to need bagels tonight that you won’t be eating?”
He slowly shakes his head. “No. I think I’m good.”
“Great. Okay, have a good night.”
And with that, I’m out of his apartment feeling fully satisfied with myself.
Chapter Eight
LEVI
This is what modern-day hell would be.
This right here.
Sharing a living space—not sure how that happened when I specifically told her to stick to her room—with a girl who apparently doesn’t own any bras. Oh wait, no, that’s not correct. She does own bras, but they tie into a bow in the front and with one tug . . . breasts. Pretty sure that’s how she put it.
This is day two of being back from my trip, and this morning, she walked into the kitchen in nothing but a threadbare tank top. I saw the definition of her nipples and had to retreat to my bedroom where I took some calming breaths and attempted to subdue the blue balls that are squeezing me to death.
I refuse to masturbate to the image of her in my head. Absolutely refuse because the moment I do it, is the moment I lose all control. I have to keep her out of my mind.
That’s how I found myself alone in my hotel room the other night, playing Phase 10 on my phone and swearing at an online player who I didn’t know. Player4756. The motherfucker kept skipping me. Several times, I almost chucked my phone against the wall.
Luckily for me, I could take out some of my pent-up aggression on the ice, and it did me well because it was a shutout game for us. No one was getting by me, and certainly not Eli, either. It was a much better showing than before, and Coach even complimented me, which he never does. Sure, his compliment was a nod of approval, but still, I counted it.
But now that I’m back home, it’s like she’s trying to make me hard every chance she gets.
And it’s working.
Last night, I was hard while eating steak.
I went to bed hard.
I woke up so fucking hard.
And now as I sit here in my living room, staring at the tiny fiddle leaf fig tree she got for me, my balls ache, wanting relief.
“Hey, you in here?” I hear her call out from the kitchen.
Here we go. How is she going to torture me now?
I lean back on the couch and say, “Living room.”
“Oh, hey.” She steps up, and when I look to the side, I find her wet with a towel barely wrapped around her body.
Fuck.
Me.
“What are you doing?” I ask, averting my eyes.
“Sorry, I tried calling you, but you weren’t answering.”
“Oh, my phone is in my room,” I groan because fuck me, she’s wet.
She’s in a towel, and she’s wet.
“Well, I ran out of soap, and I was wondering if I could borrow some of yours. And I know what you’re thinking, I’m making this up because I was saying how great you smelled last night and I want to smell the same. And whereas a part of that is true, I don’t have any soap and need some.”
Keeping my eyes averted, I say, “Yeah, you can borrow some.”
“Awesome. Thank you. Is it okay if I just finish in your shower since I’m already naked and wet?”
“Finish?” I gulp.
Do you need help finishing?
Because I know a few ways I can get you off in that shower.
“Yeah, finish showering.”
Oh fuck, duh.
Jesus Christ, man. You are way too horny to be having these conversations.
“Oh yeah, sure. Showering. Can’t, uh, can’t just walk away from the water without soaping up, and since you don’t have soap, how can you soap up?”
She cutely tilts her head to the side, her towel dipping just a centimeter. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” I say quickly. “Fine. Really just doing fantastic. Are you . . . uh, are you okay? Not that I care if you are because you’re my assistant and I shouldn’t be asking you that kind of stuff, but are you okay?”
“Why shouldn’t you care if I’m okay?”