“Just one thing,” I whisper, my lips mere inches away from her ear and the tiny gold earrings that decorate it.
This moment is too much of a prime opportunity to pass up. Stevie’s phone is right there on the counter in front of us, unlocked, as she tries to keep herself preoccupied by scrolling on it.
Standing behind her, I take control, find her Instagram app, open it, and immediately go to her follow requests.
There’s only one—me.
“I’ll just pretend like you didn’t see this.”
I watch as the small smile lifts at the corner of her lips.
I accept the request for her. Then, without hesitation, I press the little blue button that says, “follow back,” adding Stevie to my ridiculously long list of Instagram followers.
Closing the gap between us, I make my chest flush to her back. “When you change your mind.” My tone is low, my lips ghosting the shell of her ear. “This is how you’re going to get ahold of me.”
I watch as Stevie’s body slightly trembles from a shiver, but her eyes stay glued down at her phone, avoiding eye contact with me.
“Got it, sweetheart?” I ask, needing the confirmation that I’m not crazy. That this is a two-way street. That she wants a night with me as badly as I want one with her.
The air is thick with tension and anticipation as I wait for Stevie’s response. The very subtle, almost nonexistent nod of her head is my confirmation, telling me that’s it’s going to happen, and it’s probably going to happen soon.
She ever so slightly melts into my body, her head resting on my chest. Leaning forward, I press into her as much as I can, needing to feel her, and needing her to know just how fucking badly I want her.
Stevie pushes her ass out subtly, rubbing against me, her hips moving in a small torturous circle, and I can only hope that the low groan I accidentally release is too quiet for anyone else to hear.
“Hey, Stevie?” Rio asks from behind me, startling us both.
The interruption causes Stevie to jump back and away from her phone, her ass rubbing against my dick even more. A quiet hiss escapes my teeth from the sensation, and there’s no chance in hell of hiding the hard-on I’m sporting because of it.
“Can I get a Gatorade?”
Rolling my eyes, I quickly turn to face the side of the airplane where the exit door is, needing to hide the fucking rock forming in my sweatpants.
“Sure thing, Rio.”
What the hell? She’s never that nice to me when I ask her to do her job.
“It’s in the fucking cooler, Rio!” I say much too loudly, completely frustrated. “It’s right there, man.” I motion over my shoulder to the giant white cooler less than a foot away from him. “Right fucking there.”
When Stevie’s eyes lock on the action happening in the front of my pants, her face sweeps with amusement. “Oh. So, you do know where it is?”
“Do not mess with me right now, sweetheart,” I warn, trying to readjust myself without my teammate seeing what I’m packing. But apparently, my warning isn’t all that stern because all it does is cause Stevie to chuckle to herself, fully satisfied with the effect her body has on mine.
15
STEVIE
I’ve almost successfully made it through this fourteen-day road trip without giving in to Zanders. But let me tell you, the purple vibrator I keep in my travel bag has really had to put in the work these last two weeks.
Every flight we are on tempts me that much more. At this point, even the way he asks for his stupid sparkling water makes me want to jump his bones.
I need to get laid, and I don’t think just anyone will do.
I locked myself in my hotel room in Philly, Buffalo, and Jersey. And here I am in DC, lying in bed, refusing to leave my room. I just have to make it through tonight, and we’ll be back on a flight to Chicago tomorrow evening.
And I’ll be home free.
At least for the time being.
I’ve succumbed to ordering my food via delivery apps to avoid leaving the safe space of my hotel. With our track record, I already know that if I so much as step outside, I’ll run into Zanders. The universe is testing me, willing me to give in.
And fuck, do I want to.
But I can’t. And not just because of my job, but because of the promise I made to myself. After Brett essentially used me for three years in college, I said I would never date an athlete again. And that means not sleeping with one either.
Right? Or is that some kind of loophole? That sounds like a loophole. That sounds like a really tempting loophole.