She didn’t regret what had happened between them. She was an adult and had made an adult decision. She hadn’t been coerced, she’d walked into sex with Garrett more than willingly. Which didn’t mean it was going to be repeated. Falling into a relationship with him—sexual or otherwise—would be a huge mistake. Her job was to focus on his recovery, and that meant getting him on the pitcher’s mound. That was her number one objective, and she couldn’t allow herself to get sidetracked. She had a schedule to stick to, and spending days—or nights—playing with him could be disastrous to that timeline. Which wouldn’t be good for his career or hers.
She was hoping he’d see it the same way this morning. He was probably like a lot of guys when it came to sex. One time was great, more than that meant a relationship. Surely he was more interested in getting back to work than having repeat sex performances, right?
She went into her room to take a shower. When she dressed and came out, he was nowhere to be found. That gave her a reprieve, so she made some coffee and grabbed her notebook. She was in the dining room charting some notes when Garrett came inside from his run.
She chanced a quick glance at him as he headed into the kitchen. His back was turned to her as he reached into the cabinet for a glass to pour his orange juice into. His arms were glistening with sweat, his hair wet from the run. He wore shorts and a tank top and as he leaned against the counter, she could still remember what it felt like when he was moving inside her last night.
Her body responded with a tight coiling. She pushed the feeling aside and focused on her treatment plan.
“I woke up alone this morning.”
She squinted her eyes shut. She was kind of hoping he’d want to avoid the topic. Obviously not.
“Yes. I woke early and didn’t want to disturb you.”
He came over to the dining room table and sat across from her. “It was warm in the bed. We could have taken up where we left off last night.”
Her nipples tightened, her body all over that idea. It was still early. The bed was probably still warm.
No. She wasn’t going there. They weren’t going there, and it was best she suck it up and have this discussion with him now. She lifted her gaze to his. “You know that’s not a good idea.”
He grinned. “Since when is sex not a good idea?”
“Are you really going to make me be the bad guy here?”
He finished off his juice and set it on the table. “I guess I am. Because I don’t see anything wrong with what we did last night. Or with continuing it today. We both had fun. Nobody got hurt.” He moved his arm around. “Even my shoulder survived.”
She resisted the urge to smile. “It’s not a good idea. Your primary goal is pitching. Not having a sexual relationship with your therapist.”
But he did smile. “Oooh, you make it sound dirty when you say it that way.”
She rolled her eyes and stood, then headed into the kitchen to make breakfast. Garrett disappeared, which allowed her to exhale and get her riotous libido under control. She might have mentally resolved that she wasn’t going to have sex with him again, but her body hadn’t yet come to grips with that decision. So it was going to take a little time and probably more than a little mental fortitude.
She never had one-night stands. She’d always had relationships. This time, it would be a one-night stand. They’d had great sex, she’d gotten the release she’d needed, and now she could move on. She was totally over it. She was strong, and she could take working close to him. Touching him and not having him would be hard.
Just like he was hard—his body was hard—and she’d like to glide her hands over him and . . .
“Here, Alicia, let me—”
She almost dropped an egg on the floor as Garrett scooted in next to her to help her cook.
“I can do this.”
“No reason for you to be my cook when I’m perfectly capable.”
He cracked the eggs over the pan then started scrambling.
“I’ll do the bacon, then.”
“Sure.”
She laid the bacon in the other pan, and they worked side by side. She tossed bread in the toaster while he grabbed orange juice. It was companionable. She was conscious of him, of his body brushing against hers in the confined space. Every time he touched her she wanted him to grab her, push her up against the counter, and kiss her like he had last night.
Yeah. She was over it all right. He had taken a shower and he smelled like soap—clean and delicious—and she wanted to lick him all over, then wrap her hand around his cock and slide him inside her. She was practically vibrating just thinking about it.
She couldn’t handle it. His scent, his body close to hers, was driving her crazy. She still wanted him. Last night had just been a sampling, and she wanted more.
She moved away.
“I don’t bite, you know,” he finally said. “Well, I do bite. You might like it.”
She leaned against the counter. “I can’t do this.”
He frowned. “Do what?”
“This. You and me. Last night was a mistake and we both know it.”
“I don’t agree.” He moved in closer, and she backed away.
“I’m serious, Garrett. I’m serious about getting you ready to pitch and I can’t do that and . . .”
“And what?”
“And have sex with you.”
“Why not?”
“Because I have to focus. I have to think about you as my patient, not my lover. I have to be detached and clinical, not emotionally involved. I just can’t.”
“Okay.”
“Have you got this?” she asked him while not looking at him. “I’ll be right back.”