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I go to close my door, but she stops me, putting her hand out and blocking me.
“What happened?” She nods towards my shoulder.
The ice has long melted, but I’ve yet to unwrap the pack from my sore muscles.
“Nothing. I’m just banged up from the game.”
“Can I see?”
Hesitating, unsure of what she’s looking for, I cautiously unwrap the ice from my shoulder and put the pack in the sink. Reaching up, Indy’s dainty fingers run the length of my shoulder blade, her thumb following behind and digging in.
I wince, pulling away slightly.
“Ryan, you’re really tight.”
“I’m fine.”
Indy’s hand glides down my bare bicep and forearm until it slides into mine. She begins pulling me to the couch. “Take a seat on the floor. Let me rub this out.”
Let me rub this out.
Jesus. Inhaling a deep breath, I pray away the erection. Ever since the banquet, I can’t stop remembering how good she felt to touch, how natural it felt to have her with me. The fantasies have been on overdrive, and I’ve done everything in my power to will them away, but how the fuck am I supposed to do that with her soft hands rubbing my skin?
Taking a seat on the ground in front of the couch, Indy sinks into the sofa behind me, sitting on top of her crossed legs. Her hands find my shoulders, kneading and manipulating my sore muscles into relaxation. Instantly, I close my eyes from the sensation.
“This is your shooting arm?”
She takes her time on my right shoulder, thumbs pressing into the sore flesh. I can feel my face contort with pain, but it’s equaled out with pleasure.
“Yeah.”
“How’d it get so bad?”
“Repetition, I’d assume. I’m shooting a few hundred shots a day between scheduled practice and my own time on the court. That, and, sometimes I’m not given the same respect as other guys with protective calls, so I can get thrown around in games.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t have a championship or an MVP yet and I’m one of the smaller guys in the league. It’s all politics.”
“You’re 6’3”,” she laughs. “And it’s only a matter of time for the other things to come your way.”
I don’t respond, but also don’t miss the blind confidence she has in me.
Her latest read sits on the coffee table in front of me. As usual, it displays a shirtless man right there on the cover.
“What’s this one about?” I ask, holding it up.
“The female main character hooks up with her ex-boyfriend’s dad.”
“What the fuck?”
“Trust me. The little shit deserved it.”
I’m glad she’s behind me and can’t see the smile pulling at my lips. She’s fucking ridiculous sometimes and I kind of love it.
Her warm hands work into my skin, loosening my muscles. Her fingertips move over the tendons of my neck, creating slow circles before the edges of her nails lightly scratch against my hairline.
My head falls forward with a low moan.
