Page 50 of Force Play

A damp lock of hair falls forward when he cocks an eyebrow at me. “The mug I set out for you didn’t do the trick.”

Dammit.

“Oh. I didn’t see that.”

“That’s weird. I set it right by the coffeemaker so you couldn’t miss it. Grant told you to stay off your feet. Not to stand around like a Peeping Tammy while I swim. The shows are free, but at least take a seat so you don’t hurt yourself.”

Another droplet of water rolls off his hair, landing on my bare leg. “You’re getting me wet.”

“Glad to hear it. If you want some help taking care of that again, just let me know.”

“What I need is a cup of coffee and a minimum of forty-eight hours without seeing your face.” Not true, that annoying little voice in my head argues.

Shut up, you hussy.

“That’s not very nice. I thought we shared a special moment last night.” He mocks. “You’ll be back for more before you know it.”

“You’re delusional,” I say, rearranging myself in the chair and reaching for the crutches in his outstretched hand.

“There’s a key by the coffee mug. The pool is yours to use anytime you want to rehab your ankle. Show starts at 7 o’clock every morning if you want to try to catch the full performance. On Wednesdays we swim naked,” he teases. At least I think he’s joking, but I can’t be sure.

Not that it matters. I’ll find another way that doesn’t involve being alone with him.

“I’ll drive you home. Just let me rinse off first.”

Chapter 17

Dom

For the second time in twelve hours I’m gripping wood in the shower with Indie just downstairs. Her name pours out of me loud enough that she could hear it if she wandered up the stairs.

My muscles strain and my chest heaves as the last waves of my orgasm fade. Feeling less settled than I’d like after my solo session, I let my head fall against the tile. Warm water washes over me while my heart rate returns to normal. I finish my shower; the chlorine and the evidence of what I did swirl down the drain at my feet.

This is starting to be a real problem. I wish I could say that I’m ashamed, but I’m not. Not after last night.

All that lip service last year about how we were not worth repeating is nothing more than a lie she tells herself. I’ve suspected as much since she walked away. But now I know she was ignoring me because she wanted me—no, needed me. And I’m going to have so much fun making her admit it. Which is why I’m fine with resorting to more drastic measures.

This morning I was about to walk downstairs in my regular swimsuit—the pink one with Dean’s face on it—when I remembered the weenie bikini still buried in the back of my drawer. A gift from my teammates during my rookie year.

To welcome me to spring training, they deemed the banana hammock fitting for a nobody that hadn’t hit his first major league grand slam. I wore that bad boy with pride until I hit a bases loaded bomb right before the All-Star Break. Now it’s got a new purpose, self-objectification to break Indie.

I meant what I said last night, the next time Indie wants me she’s going to have to beg— preferably on her knees. I’ve spent a year trying to get her out of my system and failed miserably. As soon as her hands are on me, she’ll have me wrapped around her finger, so she better damn well mean it. And nothing speeds up the process like exploiting her weaknesses by showing off her favorite parts of me.

Taking the stairs two at a time after my shower I half expect to find the house empty. To my absolute delight, I’m greeted by a stunning Indie—her curls pointing in every direction and her face free from make-up. Nothing is prettier than her sitting at my kitchen island sipping her coffee, and it hits me square in the heart.

She looks peaceful, with her eyes closed, sipping her steaming mug of tar like it’s the best thing she’s ever had. In truth, it’s terrible. The smell is barely tolerable, yet I crave the bitter aroma because it means she’s nearby.

“Look at how well you listened to my directions. I thought as soon as I left you alone, you’d call an Uber and bail.”

“Trust me, I thought about it, but I didn’t want this huge pot of coffee to go to waste. You never drink all of yours. You take one sip and get distracted.”

“Huh . . . I never noticed.” Hopefully her bullshit meter is as wrecked as her ankle. Pouring only a half a cup, I bring it to my lips, hiding my grimace when it hits my tongue.

The glint of gold metal dangling from the magnetic hook on my fridge snags my attention. I know an opportunity when I see one and there is no way in hell I’m passing this one up. Taking it from the hook, I cross the space to where Indie sits, and dangle it between us. “Take it. You’ll be bored off your ass in two days, max.”

“I’m not using your pool.” When she doesn’t take the key, I pocket it to give to her later.

“Why not? Afraid you’ll see me swimming and do something stupid?”

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