Page 167 of Between the Blue
“I guess that was including you,” he corrects himself, rethinking. “So, yes.”
I chuckle against his shoulder, and he punishes me by biting down on mine.
My head falls back against the door, and when my eyes open again, I find Ben gazing down at me.
“You know,” I tell him, “the last time we were in here alone, I thought you were gonna kiss me.”
Ben’s lips pull into a smirk. Slowly, he shakes his head.
“What?” I question him.
“It seems you and I were thinking very different things that day. And your thoughts are much more innocent than mine, Cherry.”
I swallow, glancing down. I see the chain of the necklace he always seems to wear poking out of the top of his collared shirt and reach out, running my finger along it. “Well, do tell.”
“I’m not sure I should ruin your sweet little fantasy,” Ben says.
I lift my gaze to his.
“Ruin it.”
Ben’s throat bobs, his jaw flexing. “The last time you had me cornered in here,” he says, running his hand up my side, “when you were going off on me, putting me in my place, telling me you were done putting up with my shit and that I was a complete asshole prick–”
“Now, I don’t think that’s exactly what I said,” I mutter. “That wouldn’t have been professional at all–” I break off as his hand grazes over my breast, moving up towards my throat.
“Mmm,” Ben tuts. “Well, while you were so busy standing inmylocker room giving me yourprofessionalinput, all I could think about was you…” He trails off, giving my neck a gentle squeeze as his tongue traces his lower lip. “You, in nothing but my jersey, looking back at me as I fucked you against my locker.”
I fight to keep my hold around Ben with the way my knees are now wobbling. My gaze travels over his shoulder, immediately finding what I was sure would be there. I raise my chin, asking, “That jersey?”
“That’s the one,” Ben confirms without even turning his head.
I swallow. “And are you still thinking about it?”
Ben’s lips roll into his mouth, and he sets me down all at once. I find my footing on my shaky legs as he bends down, whispering in my ear, “Every single day.”
I turn my head, muttering back to him, “No peeking ‘til I say.”
“You have thirty seconds.”
I take off, discarding my clothes along the way, the number 24 acting as my beacon as I stumble to Ben’s locker.
I’m only left with my bra and panties when I reach for the hanger, and I find my fingers trembling as I try to remove Ben’s jersey from it.
“Ten seconds,” I hear him announce in a low voice.
When I turn my head to look at him, I see Ben loosening his tie with his back still to me, and, immediately, my lower belly clenches.
I yank the hanger out of the stiff fabric, toss it to the side, and just manage to get my underwear slipped off and the jersey thrown over my head when Ben says, “Time’s up.”
He spins around, not hesitating as he starts to walk towards me. But when I pull my hair from where it’s stuck beneath the jersey’s collar, letting it flow freely over the green material, he stops dead in his tracks.
I muster up every bit of boldness I have, letting a smile graze my lips as I turn my back to him, putting his last name and number on full display as I brace my hands on the sides of his locker and look over my shoulder at him.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he grits.
“Is this what you wanted, Captain?” I ask, looking at him from under my lashes as he closes the distance between us.
“Yes,” he nods, “God, yes. But I need this first.”
