Page 11 of One Goal in Mind

Get some sleep. If you’re still there when I’m done with my workout, I’m having you for breakfast.

Who is this guy? The most selfless man in existence? I never got to touch him, feel the weight of him in my hand, the taste of him on my tongue… and he’s threatening me with another tongue-lashing?

Russ Campbell is trouble with a capital T. I change the name in my phone to just “Bestie” in case someone were to read over my shoulder while in public, then send off a quick text, needing to nip this in the bud.

Hope you have a good workout. Tell my brother I said hi.

The reminder should be enough to keep his flirting to a minimum—or at least I hope it will. There is a missed text from Rachel, and I click over to the conversation.

Rachel

Hey, bitch! I’m starting my walk of shame. Should be at the hotel in twenty.

I check the timestamp—it was sent ten minutes ago. My legs are jelly, but I’ve never hopped out of bed so fast in my life. My underwear is nowhere to be found, and I rummage in my luggage for another pair.

The sheets!

Fuck!

There is no way in hell I’ll be able to explain it as anything other than what it is—evidence of what that beautiful man did to me. It’s Rach, she’ll understand.

Two minutes later, the door opens, and in walks a very drunk Rachel with a bag of… beef jerky?

“Why does it smell like sex in here?” she asks, popping a piece in her mouth.

“I didn’t have sex,” I rush out.

She peers around me to the bed. “Well, at the very least, you had sex by yourself. Damn, girl, that is impressive! I didn’t take you as a squirter, but I thought for sure you’d hook up with your boyfriend last night. Come on, let’s get an early breakfast.”

I gesture to her beef jerky. “Pre-breakfast snack?”

“Yeah, I was already missing meat in my mouth.”

I cough out a laugh. “Seriously, Rach?”

“What? That man filled all of my holes. I can still taste him, and his cum is leaking out of my?—”

“Rach! It’s four in the morning. Can we table the play-by-play until after I’ve had coffee?”

“Fine,” she groans. “Put on some pants, we’re going out. I worked up an appetite and need to hydrate. Then you’re going to tell me what happened with Campbell after I left.”

The memory of his face between my legs skates across my mind, making my thighs clench. If he’s true to his word, he’ll come by after his workout, and any hope of remaining friends with him will be thrown out the window. I quickly dress and pack my bag, needing to be as far away from the crime scene as possible. Witha final glance at the soaked sheets, I follow Rachel out of the room that I’ll never forget, no matter how hard I try. Admittedly, I’m jealous of Rach. My only regret from last night is I never touched him. It’s for the best. I’m sure if he had done to me what her hockey boy did to her, I’d be ruined for life.

We make our way to a small, twenty-four hour diner. There are six booths and four small square tables, but only two of the booths are occupied. As soon as we’re seated, Rach begins recounting how she was twisted like a pretzel and fucked for hours. She pulls her hair to the side, revealing a dark purple bruise on her neck that definitely wasn’t there yesterday.

“Doesn’t that hurt?” I ask curiously.

She smirks and sips her coffee. “A little, but he’s a biter, and I was into it.”

“Shit, Rach, he bit you?”

“Sure. But don’t worry, I left my own marks. Poor guy is going to have some explaining to do in the locker room when he looks like a cat attacked his back. So, what happened with Campbell.”

“Nothing happened. He stayed the night but had to be up early.”

“Bullshit. He stayed with you, and you didn’t take him for a test drive? Not even a mustache ride?”

“No,” I laugh, shaking my head. “I didn’t ride his face.”

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