Page 30 of Tame the Player

Holden has his hands on his head, sucking in deep breaths. “You’re fuckin’ killing me today, Cat.”

Damn it. Am I being harder on him now? Shit, see, I can’t do this. All this cooped-up physical energy is making me crazy. I’m overthinking things,questioning the whole workout now, and Holden puts his hands on his hips. “You’re thinking too hard, Cat. You’re not being too hard on me.”

“How did you—”

He comes over and puts his finger on my forehead and draws a line down it. “Because you’re all scrunched up here, and you do that when you’re worried about something.”

I cross my arms over my traitorous chest. Just being near Holden and him innocently touching me has my body reacting. “Get back to work, Gray.”

He holds his hands up and chuckles. “Got it. I’ll listen to what you tell me to do, honey, but just know in the bedroom, I like to be the one in charge.”

I suck in a breath, and it’s like I’ve been hit right in the stomach. The images that come to mind are too much, and I have to shake my head to clear it. “Come on, I’ll run it with you.”

I take off running, and he falls in step beside me. The rest of the workout is uneventful, and I’m thankful that he keeps it professional. I’m weak when it comes to Holden, and I could easily see myself giving in to him without a lot of pressure.

We get back to the house, eat, shower separately,and then we meet back in the therapy room and do more bands for recovery.

“How’s it feel?”

He rolls his shoulder to test it out. “It feels perfect.”

I take a deep breath. “Okay, let me massage it and then we’ll be done for the day.”

I wanted to make sure we don’t cut therapy time short and it looks like we’re going to actually go over a little bit. I put the ointment on my hands and then start on his shoulder. The way he groans has my stomach pulled tight, and I can’t help but wonder what he sounds like in bed.

I have to force my mind elsewhere or else he’s going to know exactly what I’m thinking. I work the muscles in his arm, and we’re both silent while I work. When I can’t stand the quiet a second more, I ask him, “What do you have planned for the rest of the day?”

Shit. That is the wrong question to ask when I’m trying to get my mind off of things. Instead of answering me, he asks his own question. “Are we done here, Cat?”

I grab a towel and wipe off his arm. “Yeah, we’re done.”

I’m turning away from him when he wraps his hand around my arm. “Stay.”

I take a deep breath and turn around to look at him. I want this, but I didn’t expect it to happen quite like this.

“Lie down.”

I look at the therapy bed he’s getting up from and I point at it. “You want to do it here?”

He pulls me against him, and his hand goes to my waist. I’m not a small woman, but the way he touches me makes me feel almost dainty and protected. “Fuck, Cat. All I’ve thought about is getting inside you, but I’m not going to bend you over a table and fuck you—”

He stops talking, and his eyebrows raise as he takes in my reaction. My heart is racing and my breath is coming in little pants. Just the thought of him bending me over the table has me wet with arousal. He leans down and kisses my forehead as I try to suck a breath into my lungs. “You like that, don’t you? You want me to fuck you on this table, Cat?”

All I can do is blink up at him. My nipples are hard, and with every breath I take, I feel them graze against his chest. His voice is husky, and his hot breath hits my ear as he whispers, “My plan isto fuck you in every room of this house, Cat. But right now, I want to make you feel good. Get up there.”

He pats the therapy bed, and I look between it and him.

He laughs, puts his hands at my waist, and lifts me up on the bed. “Lie down on your stomach.”

I open my mouth to argue with him, and he shakes his head. “Lie down, Cat. Let me take care of you for once.”

I reluctantly move to lie down on my stomach. “But I don’t need—”

He puts his palm on the small of my back and pushes me until I’m lying flat on the bed. “You’re always taking care of me, let me make you feel good.”

As soon as his hands smooth across my back, I realize this is a bad idea. The satisfied groan leaves my mouth before I can stop it, and I bite my lip to hold back anything else that may come out. He pats me on the back. “Take your shirt off.”

I flip my head around to look at him. “What?”

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