Sidelined: A Sports Romance (10 page)

“
T
he shower is ready
,” I called out to the living room. Sam was on the phone. He looked annoyed. I hadn’t seen that kind of scowl on his face before.

“Sorry,” I mouthed. I pointed to the bathroom door so he would know I was going to jump in.

I couldn’t help but pause when I heard him say, “Don’t ever call me again. I mean it.” I strained my ears in his direction. It was none of my business, but I’d never heard him sound so angry before.

“I told you. I’m not going to do it. I don’t care what happened or why,” he seethed.

I felt guilty for listening much longer. Maybe it was a reporter begging for a story about him. I had a feeling it was more personal than that. Maybe it was the anger in his tone, or the way he was trying to shield the call from me. I tiptoed away and headed for the bathroom, trying to focus on what we had shared.

I’d had a dozen fantasies about the mirrors in my studio. They mostly came to me in the middle of the night when I was asleep, and would rouse me with wicked thirst for something I knew I couldn’t have. Until now.

Watching Sam’s eyes as our bodies aligned. As he moved inside me. It sent a shiver through my body. I was still tingling. It was erotic. It was the hottest thing I’d ever done in my life. Each time we were together topped the last time. Not that it was a contest. I didn’t want to have to out-best our sex life. But holy hell, it was amazing.

I stepped into the shower and let the water wash over me. We hadn’t had the safe sex discussion either, but as I soaped up, I was reminded we hadn’t used a condom. I was on birth control, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t sleeping with an AFA player.

When was the right time to have this discussion? Probably before I let him come inside me. I turned the water up, making the steam rise over the glass door.

Sam walked in. “Sorry, I had to take that.”

“Everything okay?” I asked.

“I don’t want to talk about it. Actually, I want to forget that call ever happened,” he grumbled.

I didn’t know what to say. His face was drawn in a frustrated expression. Whoever was on the end of that call had upset him.

“You sure? I’m a really good listener,” I offered.

He opened the door and stepped in next to me. His palms slid to the side of my face and he kissed me. “I’m sure. I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s pretend I never took that call.” He went back to kissing me.

I could get lost in this. His kiss. His touch. The way he looked at me. It was everything out of a beautiful ballet. Although the leading men weren’t anything like Sam. I was used to lithe and limber. Not strong and powerful. He could encompass me and make me feel safe and secure. And I was sure if he gave it a try, he could lift me overhead easily and I could dive into a poisson, one of my favorite holds with a partner. I smiled thinking about it.

“What’s that look?” he asked.

“Just thinking about you dancing.”

He chuckled. “My best dance is in the end zone.”

“When should we order dinner?” I asked.

The water skimmed over his shoulders and I watched the droplets roll over the muscles in his biceps.

“After the shower sex.” He grinned. His mouth moved over mine as my back touched the cool tile.

His erection pressed hard against my leg and I gasped. Was this really happening again? His hands lifted me up gently as I wrapped myself around his waist. The steam billowed around us and I felt the heat between us as he slid me over him until finally he pushed inside. I let out a moan as he filled me.

He rested one hand over my shoulder on the tile while the other clutched my lower back. And when I least expected it, he started to sway. I smiled at him, feeling our bodies move in opposite directions.

“I like that.” It was as if he was rotating inside me, touching everything within.

“You feel fucking incredible. Every time.” He nipped at my neck.

Part of me wondered if this was always what sex was like for him, and the other part knew it couldn’t be. It had never felt like this. Never felt like someone wanted me so desperately, or that I needed them just as much. I held on while he brought us to the brink of ecstasy. This time he pushed in and out with slow strokes. But strokes that tortured me with pleasure.

“Sam, oh, Sam.” It was happening slower than it ever had. The coiling in my belly started to expand and float through my limbs, but not with the fire and intensity I was used to with him. It was exquisite how everything slowed to his rhythm.

I kissed him as my body began to shake and jolt. My legs felt like jelly and my core was burning with the blistering orgasm.

He pressed his forehead against mine. “I love it when you do that.”

I licked my lips from the shower water. I touched the corners of his face as the trickles of water beaded over the sharp lines of his jaw.

Then I saw the lust in his eyes. His speed picked up and a look of determination crossed his gorgeous face. I held up while he pumped in and out of me. His chest heaved rapidly and his hips thrust forward.

“Fuck, Natalia.” He sank into me again and his body stiffened as he wrapped both arms around me, shaking as his came inside.

Slowly, he lowered me to the ground. I looked into his eyes, already missing our bodies being connected.

“You said something about dinner?” he joked.

“Funny.” I grabbed a bottle of body wash for him.

“I’m starving. The practice. The drive. The sex.”

“Poor thing.” I lathered my hands and began rubbing them over his chest. His shoulders were wide and I needed two hands to wash one arm.

He was a lot to handle.

* * *

W
e decided
on ordering Italian and sat in the living room once the driver dropped off our dinner. I lit a few candles and opened a bottle of wine. I poured a glass for each of us.

“I think we should toast to something, don’t you?”

Sam held the glass. “To more nights in your studio.” He winked.

I tapped my glass to his.

“I want to hear more about your audition. When is it?” he asked.

“For the ballet?” I picked up my fork.

“Yes. When do you start preparing? Are you ready?”

“It’s not until March. And I hope that by January my leg will be strong enough that I can complete my routine.” I took a bite of salad.

“What did you injure? Maybe I could help.” He waggled his eyebrows and I didn’t know whether to take him seriously or not.

“It’s my hamstring. It’s not bad enough that I can’t jump around for a few hours cheering. It’s actually gotten much stronger since last year. But I’m worried it won’t support me on my pointe shoes.”

“And those are?”

“You know the shoes ballerinas wear? The ones with the flat toes so we can stand up on our feet. It’s a lot of pressure on the foot, but it takes a tremendous amount of strength in the supporting leg. I’m afraid to try.” I couldn’t believe I had told him that. I hadn’t shared it with anyone.

“I think I know what shoes you’re talking about. Why haven’t you tried it yet if you’re out dancing for the Warriors every week? Your legs seem in good shape to me.”

I was tempted to poke him with my fork. “Because if I put on those shoes and I’m not ready then what was all this for?” I took a deep breath. “Why have I joined a dance squad? Why did I try to get my strength back if it was all going to be for nothing?”

“Hey, you don’t know that.” He put his plate on the coffee table. “You need to put the shoes on and see where you are. That’s the only way you can plan the rest of your rehab.”

I blinked. “You’re talking like you know how I’m going to get back on stage.”

“I don’t know shit about ballet, but I know injuries and I know hamstrings. Do you have a trainer? Are you working with a therapist to get you where you need to be?”

“I can’t afford it right now.” I didn’t want to admit how broke I was. The Warriors didn’t exactly pay a lot and Austin was expensive.

“Then let me help you. I can do that. I know the best physical therapists in the country. I can find someone to get you ready.”

“That’s football. This is ballet,” I stated.

“Hamstrings are hamstrings.” He picked up his wine glass and took a big gulp. “If you need help, let me help you.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know. It’s not like we’re a…”

“A couple?”

“What is this? What are we?” The questions popped out before I could pull them back in.

“Do we have to label it?”

“No, I guess not.” I reached for my glass.

“I’m not saying it’s not something. It’s just… Damn it,” he huffed. “Why can’t we see what happens?”

“We can. We definitely can.”

“This is everything I said I wouldn’t do. And I’m everything you said you can’t do. But I’m here in Austin and I’m thinking that it’s going to suck when I have to drive back to San Antonio tomorrow.”

“You are?” I felt little slivers of happiness dancing in my stomach.

“God, yes. I don’t want to leave you. I want to take you with me. Can’t you quit the Goddesses?”

“I need the paycheck, Sam. I make money doing what I’m doing. And I can’t take charity from you. I wouldn’t feel good about that. It would feel like I belonged to you or something.” I scrunched my nose.

His eyes locked on mine. “Don’t you feel like you belong to me?”

And it hit me—I did. I did every time I went to bed with him. Every time he kissed me. When I saw our reflection in the mirror, and saw my handprint on the shower wall. He owned me with his body and I gave it to him freely, willingly.

“That’s not the same.” I tried to back out of his argument.

“I haven’t thought this through, but I want you. I want you with me in San Antonio. I sure as hell don’t want you around the Warriors.”

“Because they’re your rival?”

“Yes, because they are the rival. I make more than enough to pay for a trainer and a coach and a therapist. Come to San Antonio and train.”

I couldn’t believe he was offering me this opportunity, and at the same time, I was stunned how it made me feel.

“It’s too soon. We don’t know each other well enough. I don’t want to owe you something like that, Sam.”

His gray eyes pierced through the walls I was putting up. “Come with me. Be with me. Let me do this for you.”

He took the glass from my hand and rested it on the coffee table. My heart beat wildly. His eyes dipped to my breasts. He pushed my shirt up, exposing my nipple. He bent his head to take it in his mouth.

He sucked it between his teeth and I whimpered.

“Is this mine?” he asked.

“Yes.” My head leaned back on the cushions.

He rolled the other nipple between his fingers before sucking it into his mouth. “And this, is it mine, Natalia?”

“Oh, yes.” I was already wet and the fire was burning in my core.

He let go and I felt the cool air brush over my wet skin. He left my shirt dangling around my shoulders. His lips moved over mine.

“And these lips.” He kissed me. “Are these mine or not?”

I nodded as he bit my bottom lip. All at once his hand was snaking up the back of my running shorts, squeezing my ass. I squealed. But his grip was firm and his voice was serious.

“I love your ass. Tell me it isn’t mine,” he commanded.

“It’s yours,” I whispered.

One finger and then another slid between my legs, over my slit, and tugged on my throbbing clit.

“Oh,” I moaned. “God, Sam.”

He twisted it slightly and I felt the need building. He was making his point clear.

He pushed his fingers inside me while his thumb rubbed over my swollen nub. “All of this is mine, isn’t it?”

I bit my lip. I was clenching around his fingers while they pushed inside me, curling against my walls.

“It is,” I whispered, clawing at his back.

He pulled his hands away and sat forward to pick up his wine glass. I wiggled upward and watched him.

He looked at me over his shoulder, grinning.

“I want you with me, Natalia.”

I closed my eyes. I wanted it too. He was giving me a chance to pack up and leave the Goddesses for good. But at what cost? Was I his plaything? Some dance girl he bought to get him through the season?

“Are you mine?” I asked the question bluntly.

“What?”

I could play the same games he could. I maneuvered so I was straddling him on the couch.

“You know you own me. But do I own you?” I ran a finger along his jaw and to his bare chest. I didn’t stop there. My nails scraped his sides and I dropped to the floor between his knees. He leaned back while I pulled his warm up shorts from his legs. His cock sprung free and I smiled.

I licked the tip, tasting the freshness of the shower on him. I kissed the silky skin before gliding my tongue over the sensitive spot between his balls.

“Natalia.” He shoved his cock closer to me.

I positioned my mouth over it and sucked him in as he groaned loudly.

I sat back. “Is it mine?”

“Keep going and I’ll tell you.” He reached for the back of my head, but I jerked to the side. My hand latched around his thick shaft.

“No, tell me you’re mine too, Sam. Tell me we own each other.”