All the ways I could make Indy speechless flood my mind, but I think I’d rather make her scream. My name, preferably. Goddamn, and now I’m remembering how fucking pretty she is when she comes. But imagine more than just her dry-humping my leg. Is that chaotic girl even more wild when she fully unravels? Would those lilac fingernails dig into my back and maybe draw blood? Would her bare legs wrap around my waist, her ankles twisting together to pull me tighter? Fuck, I hope I get to find out.
There’s a shit ton of blood rushing to my dick and I’m in a bar of my colleagues. Not exactly the moment I need a fucking hard-on to make an appearance. Indy’s not wrong. That little image she put in my head is begging for my right hand to get to work.
I tell Dom he’s paying for my beer and I’m halfway out the door when I see one of the rookies, Leon Carson, towards the perimeter of a crowded half circle the team is making around the bar. The last time we hung outside of work was at team dinner where Ethan so kindly pointed out that the kid feared me.
Yes, I want respect, but I don’t want anyone I play with to be afraid of me. That’s reserved for any guy wearing a jersey other than Chicago’s.
“Leon.”
He stands straighter, eyes bouncing away from my face, having a hard time connecting. “Hey, Shay.”
Jesus. Even when I was a rookie, I was never this timid. I came into the league with humble confidence, knowing what I was bringing to the game. But Leon is a bench guy. He’s our backup point guard and only plays in the fourth quarter if we’re blowing out another team or getting blown out ourselves.
“On Tuesday I’m going to stay late after practice and work on some footwork drills. Get some shots up. Do you want to join?”
“For real?”
“Yeah, a couple of the guys on the coaching staff usually stay late with me once a week to work on individual stuff, and if there’s anything you’re having trouble with we can go over it together. If you need some pointers on—”
“Yeah! Hell yeah. That would be incredible.”
He’s looking me in the eye now, a bit more self-assurance coming through.
“Good.” I nod towards his empty beer before heading towards the door. “Get yourself another beer. Dom’s buying.”
21
INDY
Indy
Daily update—this is a few days late, but I gotta tell you something. I dry-humped your brother’s leg like a dog in heat.
Stevie, why aren’t you answering?
AM I BLOCKED?!
Stevie Renee Shay! You were the one who wanted me to live with him!
Kidding. This isn’t your fault. I LOVE YOU!! Are you mad at me?
It’s been a week since Ryan offered to help me out. It’s taken as many days for the words to sink in, for my body to come down from the hurried orgasm thanks to his thigh pressing into me. I’ve been fantasizing about that man since I moved in. Hell, I’ve been fantasizing about him since the day we met—the same day I caught Alex with someone else.
I’m not sure what it says about me or our relationship that I was looking at another man hours after my relationship ended with the person I thought I was going to marry, but I’m beginning to wonder if the love I had for Alex was genuine and true, or simply a convenient avenue to the life I wanted.
If I’m being honest, the notion has rocked me this last week because even though I’ve flirted with Ryan since I met him, it all became too real the night I went on a date with someone else. That date was meant to get me out there again. To prove to myself whatever I was feeling towards Ryan was fleeting. I couldn’t have genuine feelings for someone else only eight months after who I thought was the love of my life. Anyone would make me feel the same way as I was feeling towards the man across the hall.
Alarmingly enough, it proved the opposite.
Ryan came home this morning, but I haven’t seen him yet. He dropped his bags, made a coffee for me and stuck it in the fridge to cool down, then headed to get some shots in before interviewing with the media all before I was awake. A typical Saturday for superstar Ryan Shay. I wonder if he gets tired of it all. His life might seem glamorous to an outsider, but seeing the daily grind, I’m exhausted for him.
Stevie and I went shopping two days ago and I’ve been dreaming of the scarlet-red satin hanging in my closet ever since. Red isn’t typically my shade, but I’m in need of the boldness the color brings. Straps wrap into bows over my shoulders, and the hemline ends mid-shin. Conveniently, I need a second pair of hands to zip the dress up all the way, so I throw on my new pair of nude pumps until I can ask Ryan to help with the rest.
This secret party he refuses to discuss is in an hour and across town so when I hear his bedroom door open, I give myself one last long look in the mirror, take a deep breath, and head to the living room.
The click of my heels against the hardwood floor gains his attention, mid-drink with a glass of scotch in his hand.
Blue-green eyes follow a path up my legs, taking their time gliding up my body, lingering on my chest, not that I have much in that department, but this dress is doing a fantastic job of displaying what I’ve got. Ryan’s kissable lips part, wetting the bottom one in a slick slide of his tongue.
I watch his Adam’s apple bob in a swallow when he finally meets my eye. “Wow.”
“Hi.”
He nods, reminding himself to speak, and I’ve got to admit, having his undivided attention like this is quite the ego boost. “Indy, you look incredible.”
I turn around, giving him my back. “Could you zip me up?”
There’s a slight rattle in my knees from adrenaline coursing through me and my palms are sweaty with nerves. I don’t consider myself a nervous person, but the idea of seeing this restrained man lose control has had me on edge all week.
Gathering my hair above my neck, I hear his glass touch the counter before one, two, three leisurely steps pad towards me. Heat instantly warms my back from his proximity, and we share a sharp inhale of breath when Ryan’s palm slides against my hip.
The shift between us is evident, a new energy in the air around us. What was once a flirty friendship has turned into an awareness that there’s more going on. It’s only a matter of time before one of us decides to act on it.
Ryan’s fingertips dust the skin of my neck, pushing away any stray hairs. The sensation instantly floods my body with goosebumps and the bastard begins to chuckle from it.
“I hate you,” I tell him, though my breath is slightly labored.
“Mm-hmm. Seems like it.”
The fingers that were on my hip dig into my skin, the fabric of my dress bunching in his grasp. He zips me up with his other hand, tracing the column of my spine with his fingertips, and taking his time as he does. When the zipper reaches its destination, holding me secure, the pads of Ryan’s fingers snake around my back to my neck before curving around my throat.
A firm chest is molded to me now as his thumb traces the thrumming pulse point in my neck. “Did I buy this dress?”
I nod.
His throat releases a gravelly noise in satisfaction.
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a little possessive, Shay?”
His chest rumbles against my back in a silent laugh. “Never. But then again, no one else has ever made me feel quite as greedy as you do.”
Oh God. I like him controlling like this.