Page 41 of The Naughty Week
And slowly but surely, he’s beginning to be nothing more than himself around me, too.
“Ready to get your ass kicked?” he asks as Josh spins his racquet in his hand.
“Ready to kick your ass. You wait.”
“May the best man win.”
Josh laughs. “Don’t put it like that, Heath, or you might have to nail it by default.”
“Don’t be mushy, please. I’ll feel worse for thrashing you.” Heath pats Josh’s ass with his racquet, but the blush of his cheeks shows just how much he’s loving it.
“Go, guys!” I shout as they open the glass door to the court, and Josh tuts at me.
“You’re supposed to be on Team Joshua, Ells. I’m the one who’s your boyfriend, remember? You need a ‘go, Josh’placard, not a penchant for the greatCount, out to kick my ass on the squash court.”
“And theCountis also my client who owns the villa. I’ll be a double cheerleader. Why choose, right? I want you both hot and sweaty and out to win the crown, not just one of you.”
“I’m not just out to win the crown,” Josh says. “I’m going to take it, stick it on my head and wear it all night long.”
“You reckon?” Heath says, as he steps inside. “Let’s see.”
The door closes behind them, and my heart races at the beginning of what’s going to be such an amazing game. Heath Mason against my boyfriend. Jeez. It’s another crazy experience that people would die for.
Oh my fucking God, how the guys go for it on that court – even through the warmup. The barometer of tension is off the scale, way more intense than it was on the loungers earlier. Sweat is dripping within minutes, despite the fact that Josh hasn’t even found his true bearings yet. He’s still finding his feet as the pair of them dash back and forth after the ball, which is unusual. Josh normally takes the lead from the off. For a player who usually practices solo, Heath can clearly knock it out of the park. Which is quite an apt analogy really, considering that Heath usually practices solo on a lot of fronts, not just sports related…
He definitely manages to knock it out of the park on those.
They both get in position after their warmup, Josh ready to serve first in game number one, and I may have thought they were going for it in the warmup, but I’d underestimated them. The lunges are insane, the leaps beyond this world, and the way they stride and jostle across the court gives me butterflies all the way down to my toes.
Now. Here. In Heath’s man cave basement-cum-sports-hall, these two could just be two hot guys from a normal walk of life playing a match together. Heath’s icon status and Josh being a hooker means nothing. They are just two men giving their all to a squash match.
The way they grin at each other between rounds makes the butterflies ramp up even harder.
The competition is definitely raging, but so is the lust.
And more.
There is more than testosterone, lust and competition at play on the court.
The guys flash me smiles and waves between rounds, but their hearts aren’t with me right now. They are all for each other.
I like that.
Scrap that. Ilovethe way they are so consumed with each other. Even though I’m out of the spotlight. I don’t care.
I probably love it a little too much, in fact.
It gives me weird ideas about how things could be on the outside world. If we were just regular people in London, and Josh was free to grab his sports kit and head out for a game of squash with Heath at a local gym. Maybe they’d go for a bite to eat after. Maybe some drinks. Maybe I’d join them. We could hang out until we decided whose place we were going home to.
Because that would happen.
We’d always go home together…
I banish the thought, because it can’t be. It will never be. Heath is a client. A famous client. And we are just paid whores out to entertain him for a week between stints of filming.
So why are both my heart and gut telling me otherwise? Tempting me with a crazy dream?
My attention gets tugged back to the court when Josh lets out an especially loud cheer at a victory. I’ve lost track of the scorecard, but they haven’t. Josh is two points up.
