“So, where to?” she asks, looking to me for direction.
There’s a large hallway to our right and I hear yelling and other noises from down the corridor. It looks like the most promising place to find the court. “Um, I’m not sure. Let’s go see what’s down there.”
Hopefully, it’s Savage.
I want to see him in action.
She looks annoyed but follows me anyway. The closer we get to the end of hall, the more nervous I become.
Shit, what if he’s mad I’m here?
We reach the open doors to a large gymnasium. I see Savage on the court instantly. He’s in a different chair than usual. This one is lower to the ground and the wheels are pitched out at an angle. He flies down the court, while simultaneously dribbling the ball. When he reaches the basket, he maneuvers around another player and easily makes his shot.
The cut-off shirt he’s wearing allows me an amazing view of his arms.
Sweet Lord.
His muscles ripple and bulge with every move he makes and it’s sexy as fuck. Those arms have been wrapped around me, held me in place while he devoured my pussy…
“Huh? Savage is here. Imagine that.” Nora’s snide comment breaks my momentary lapse into my sexual daydream.
I restrain myself from rolling my eyes at her. “Well, look at that. He is.” I lace my voice with as much sweetness and surprise as possible, but I know I’m not fooling her. She knows me too well.
“Did you really drag me here to stalk your boyfriend?”
Yes.
“No. Of course not. It’s just a happy coincidence that he has his basketball games on Saturday mornings.” She narrows her eyes and crosses her arms. She’s pissed, and maybe she has a right to be, but there’s no harm in watching, even for her. Although, I guess watching your sister ogle your boss could be a tad uncomfortable.
“I’m going to find a treadmill. Enjoy your stalking.”
I lean against the doorjamb and watch the game continue. I don’t really understand the rules. Like baseball, I never watched or played basketball, so I’m not really following the game. That’s not why I’m here.
My eyes follow Savage.
He’s fucking impressive. I never really thought about the upper body strength it takes to do what he does, but it’s evident on the court. All the players are surprisingly agile in their chairs and all of them exude a competitive spirit I never expected. I guess I’ve been na?ve and probably a bit uneducated in my belief that people like Savage lose all this with an injury like he has. It doesn’t appear to be slowing him down at all. I feel like a real asshole, again, for the way I ran when I found out he was in the chair.
I know he’s forgiven me for the way I acted that day. He’s more than demonstrated his desire to make this work between us, despite my reservations, and I feel the same way.
Still, we haven’t moved any closer to actually sealing the deal and my frustration is growing, especially when I see him like this. While blowing him is pretty fucking incredible, and he never fails to get me off, multiple times, every time, it isn’t enough and I’ve been avoiding it like the elephant in the room.
Instead of focusing on the problems in our relationship, I’ve been taking my mother’s advice and enjoying the things that do work, which is basically everything else. He makes me happy. The problem is, he also makes me hornier than a dog in heat.
The play on the court ceases. He moves to a row of benches and grabs a towel and water bottle before turning toward the door. His eyes flash when he sees me and then a smile spreads across his face.
I felt her eyes on me before I saw her. The moment the game ended, my eyes found hers and my heart began racing even harder than it had during the game. I stop in front of her and stare up into her beautiful face.
How can I miss her so much when it’s only been one day?
“Hey, what are you doing here?”
She smiles and pushes herself up off the jamb. “Oh, Nora and I came to work out.”
I let her obvious lie skate. She’s a terrible liar, but I don’t care why she’s really here. I’m just so damn happy to see her.
“I missed you last night,” The words are inadequate to describe what I was really feeling at the club. With Gabe gone, I was forced to stay all night. I spent the vast majority of it thinking about Dani and wondering why I was so stupid and told her not to come spend the night. Over the last several weeks, I’ve grown accustomed to coming home and having her in my bed.
The sense of contentment I feel when I see her under the sheets, waiting for me, is only broken by the unshakable fear that she’ll see my scars or I’ll have another failure to launch. Keeping her from knowing the truth has been exhausting and I don’t know how much longer I can keep it up.
“Me, too.” The sincerity in her reply and heat in her gaze tells me all I need to know. She’s no longer fighting this thing between us. She’s finally resigned herself that being in a relationship isn’t a bad thing.