Page 20 of The Rookie's Sister

Morning sunshine filters through the blinds, stirring me from a restless sleep. I blink up at the ceiling, slowly coming back to my senses. The events of last night replay in vivid technicolor—the glitz of the ballroom, the dazzling smiles and air kisses, the champagne bubbles dancing across my tongue. And one moment seared into my mind on an endless loop: my mouth capturing Xavier’s, his fingers threading through my hair, my pulse thundering in my ears.

My hand slips between my legs, a horny smile tugging at my lips. I can almost still feel the ghost of that electrifying kiss. A reckless, impulsive move, but so very worth it to see the look on Rachel’s face. Point one to Emma Thompson.

My phone buzzes on the nightstand, jolting me from my pleasant memories. I reach for it, squinting against the brightness. It’s a text from Xavier. My pulse quickens.

Xavier: Thanks again for being my date last night. You were amazing. Looking forward to our next public appearance, girlfriend ;)

I bite my lip, heat creeping up my neck. Our little scheme is becoming dangerously convincing, in more ways than one. This man has a knack for knocking me off-kilter. I’m already dreading and anticipating our next “date.” Such a tangled web we’re weaving.

With a sigh, I roll out of bed and shuffle to the bathroom. As I brush my teeth, my mind still replaying that impulsive kiss over and over. Obviously, it was just for show, a way to stick it to Rachel after she tried baiting us. But the way Xavier responded, pulling me fiercely against him, left me breathless. No man has ever kissed me like that before—with a hunger bordering on desperation.

Get a fucking grip, Thompson. It was pure smoke and mirrors, a convincing performance for the cameras. Nothing more. Xavier Johnson is not a man who loses control. Especially not over an arrangement as transactional as ours.

I turn on the shower as hot as I can stand it, as if I can scald away these dangerous thoughts. But as steam fills the bathroom, I can almost feel Xavier’s strong arms around me again, his cologne enveloping my senses. A treacherous part of me hopes our next “date” comes very soon…and that I’ll have someone else to ease this throbbing ache inside me.

For right now, however, it seems like I’m the only option available. And if I’m being completely honest, it’s been that way for quite a while. Which means I know exactly what I need to do to find relief.

Closing my eyes, I give myself over to fantasies that have been playing through my mind in one way or another since I left that limo. I slide my hand down my stomach, imagining thicker fingers, strong ones. Dexterous.

A shiver goes through me as I imagine him looking down at me through hooded eyes that miss nothing.

He watches my face as his fingers part my folds, finding me slick and wet—and not because of the shower. His touch ghosts over my clit, sending a zing of pleasure through me.

I breathe out a sigh as that bundle of nerves swells under my fingers. My free hand comes up to cup my breast. My nipple pebbles against my palm and when I take it between my thumb and finger, I imagine that it’s Xavier plucking at the sensitive flesh.

As the water flows over my body, I picture what it would be like to see Xavier go to his knees in front of me, those dark eyes full of promise. The knowledge that he will totally and completely take care of me.

His tongue is hot, moving over silky skin as he uses his thumbs to part my lower lips. He presses his mouth more tightly against me, working his tongue into me, then moving up to circle my clit.

I press my fingers more firmly against that nub of flesh and think of what it would feel like to have him take it in his mouth. To have him peer up at me, his hands on my hips, holding me in place as he draws out every ounce of pleasure. I let the cry spill from my lips as I come, the sound muffled by the water.

It takes me a couple minutes to recover, but my legs are still shaky as I wash my hair. It’s only as I lather up my body wash that my pulse returns to normal, and I finally feel like the tension inside me has eased.

Freshly showered, I towel off and throw on yoga pants and a Thunderhawks T-shirt. My wet hair soaks the back, but I’m too lazy to blow dry it. As I’m pulling it up into a messy ponytail, my phone rings. It’s Jeff.

“Hey little bro, what’s up?” I ask, wedging the phone between my shoulder and ear as I rummage for socks.

“Just wanted to check in after last night,” he says. “How was the big charity ball with all the hoity toity football folk?”

I snort. “You make it sound like I was hobnobbing with royalty. It was fine—good food, free booze. Oh, and Xavier behaved nicely.”

“Yeah? How’s that going, you two ‘dating’ and all?” Jeff asks. I can hear the smirk in his voice.

“It’s...going. It’s for show, as you know. All for your benefit.” Even as I say it, my lips tingle with the ghost of Xavier’s kiss. Down, girl.

“Uh, huh. I know the plan. Just don’t go falling for my teammate, sis. Could make for an awkward Thanksgiving dinner. Also, I don’t want you getting hurt for my sake.”

I roll my eyes. “You forget you’re talking to your big sister. You know me, Jeff. My head’s always on straight.”

Mostly straight. Definitely attached to my shoulders. Not fantasizing about Xavier’s muscular arms wrapping around me again. Not thinking about what he looks like without a shirt. Nope, not at all.

Jeff’s voice turns serious. “But really, I wanted to say thanks. Xavier took me aside at practice yesterday and gave me some great tips. I think having you close to him is rubbing off. My field awareness has gotten so much better this week.”

I pause midway through lacing my sneakers. “Well, I’m glad to hear he’s helping you. But you got here on your own merit, Jeff. Don’t sell yourself short.”

“I know, I know. But it’s nice to have someone like Xavier in my corner, you know? I think this whole arrangement is gonna work out.”

I chew my lip, sensations at war within me. I’m thrilled Jeff feels supported, that our gambit seems to pay early dividends. But there’s an undercurrent of something less definable rippling through me. Almost like...guilt?

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