Page 15 of Possession

He studies me for a minute, and fishes a pill bottle from his sweatpants pocket. I hand him my water bottle and he swallows the pills as I’m parking outside his building. “Let’s get you comfortable,” I tell him.

By the time I have Bax on the couch with the bag of ice strapped to his shoulder, he’s drowsy and loopy from the pain meds. As he dozes off, I order takeout and perch on the edge of the couch.

My timer goes off to remove his ice, and as I’m pulling the plastic from his skin, his eyes fly open. His pupils are dilated and I know the meds have kicked in. “Liv,” he says. “Do you have any idea how fucking beautiful you are?”

I blush. “That’s awfully nice of you to say, Baxter Morgan. Thank you.” I tug the bag of ice free and toss it on the coffee table. “Let’s get your shirt back on.”

But he yanks me against his chest with his good arm. “No,” he says. “I want to feel you, Livvy.” His speech is slurred and I know he’s not thinking clearly. But god, it does feel nice to have my hands pressed against the warm, muscled expanse of his chest.

His good arm is wrapped tightly around my waist, holding me close against him. I wriggle around a bit, not wanting to hurt him, and I realize his muscles aren’t the only thing that’s hard right now.

I can’t help myself. I glance down at his sweatpants, where he evidently has a baseball bat stashed in his boxers. “Want you so bad,” he mutters, and then he thrusts his hips up against me.

I flush from the top of my scalp to the tips of my toes. This is everything I’ve fantasized about, except he’s messed up on pain meds and has no idea what he’s saying. “Bax, why don’t you let me get up and get you a drink, ok?”

But he doesn’t let me get up. He rolls his hips against my jeans, moaning a little and when I meet his chocolate eyes, they’re molten. “Always want you,” he says, his tongue thick from the medication. His hand slips from around my waist and he takes my hand in his, bringing it to the stiff, throbbing erection under his sweats.

I suck in my breath. He’s so hard. So hot. He presses my hand against his dick and groans with need. “Olive,” he says. My breath comes fast and shallow. I can feel my heart beating in my ears. I have no idea what to do, except I know that this can’t happen. Not now. Not when he’s messed up like this and has no idea what he’s even asking me.

He lifts his head from the couch and captures my mouth in a gentle kiss and I feel a moan begin deep within me, escaping into his soft lips as they press against mine hungrily. How many times have I fantasized about kissing Baxter? Oh god, I’m kissing him back now, my tongue searching and roaming over his teeth. This is so wrong, but it feels better than almost anything I’ve ever done before.

“Delivery!” I hear a knock at the door and I spring up from Baxter’s grasp. My heart is racing and his head drops back down on the arm of the couch.

I open the door and snatch the food bag, thanking the delivery guy, and I set everything on the counter. I stand in the kitchen, catching my breath, smoothing out my hair.He won’t remember any of this,I tell myself.This is all the pain meds.

“Think you can eat, Bax?” I stick my head around the corner to the living room, and I see that he’s sound asleep on the couch, still shirtless.

I pick at the food and put it away, never taking my eyes off him. He doesn’t stir. As I stare at his crotch, I notice with mixed emotions that his erection has gone down, too. Eventually, I toss a blanket over him and turn off the television. Not wanting to leave him alone, I decide to crawl in his bed, just so I’m close by if he needs me.

I wake up sometime in the middle of the night and Baxter is in the bed with me, his chin nuzzled against my shoulder, his good arm draped around my waist.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Bax

I WAKE UP with Olive in my bed, like some fucking fantasy come true. She must have brought me home and taken care of me last night. I can’t remember anything past the car ride when she told me to take my meds. My shoulder hurts less this morning—more of a dull ache than an acute, stabbing pain.

I think Doc said I was supposed to come in this morning to start rehab stuff. My stomach grumbles and I realize I’m fucking starving. Olive starts to stir so I do what any good friend would do, and I flick her. “Hey,” I whisper. “I’m going out for bagels. You want one?” She nods and rolls over.

I pat her on the shoulder and close my eyes, fighting back the urge to drop a kiss on the skin of her neck, right behind her ear where I bet it’s soft as silk. I dreamt last night that I kissed her, that she wanted to kiss me, too.

As I slide into my sneakers, I remember the dream, me telling her how much I want her, Olive hesitating, but then returning my kiss and running her tongue along my teeth. I felt so safe, so natural, so happy. Definitely the best damn dream of my life.

In the living room, I see the melted bag of ice she must have been putting on my shoulder, and my shoes are neatly arranged by the door. Shit, she must have really taken care of me last night. I owe her a lot more than a bagel.

When I get back, she’s still asleep, so I write her name on the bag and open the fridge—where I see she has neatly arranged takeout containers from last night, too. What did I even do to deserve this girl? There’s no fucking way I’m ever going to have a girlfriend who treats me this well.

I sure as shit don’t deserve this much kindness after I run off my mouth the way I do to everyone who gets on my nerves. And that’s everyone. Except Olive.

It’s important for me to remember that these fever dreams of grinding my dick against Olive? Those have to stay what they are: fantasies.

I whisper to her that I’m going to the training room and she nods. She’ll let herself out later, I guess. Hopefully she will get some sleep while I’m out.

The dickhead Justin isn’t in this morning, thank god. The girl Olive knows—Julia I think—has me strip to my shorts in the training room and start out with a deep tissue massage, which is fine by me after a game like yesterday. I’m in my own world, hooked up to the stim, when I feel someone slap my ass.

“Hunh?” I turn over to see Kevan grinning, hopping up on the table next to mine.

“How’s the shoulder, dude?”

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